"I breakfasted at quarter to eight," said Miss Hancock with a scarcely perceptible emphasis on the "I."
"I know we're awfully late as a rule," said Fanny, as they sat down near the window, in and out of which the wasps were coming, and through which the sun shone, laying a burning square on the carpet, "but I hate early breakfast. When I breakfast at eight I feel a hundred years old by twelve. Did you ever notice how awfully long mornings are?"
"My mornings," said Miss Hancock, laying a scarcely perceptible accent on the "my," "are all too short; an hour lost in the morning is never regained. You cannot expect servants to be active and diligent without you set them the example. We are placed, I think, in a very responsible position with regard to our servants: as we make them so they are."
"Do you think so?" said Fanny, trying to consider what part she possibly could have had in the construction of James and the helpmeet Susannah.
"I am sure of it. If we are idle or lazy ourselves they imitate us; they are like children, and we should treat them as such. I ring the bell at half-past five every morning for the maids, and I expect them to be down by six."
"What time do you get up?"
"Half-past seven."
"Then," said Fanny, laughing, "you don't set them—I mean they set you the example, for they are up before you."
"I spoke figuratively," said Miss Hancock rather stiffly, and eyeing the handmaiden who had just appeared at the door to remove the things.
"Give the fish to the cats, Susannah," said her mistress, "and be sure to take the bones out; one nearly choked," she said, resuming her conversation with her visitor, "the other morning."