"I was asleep," interrupted Toaster.
"Who are you talking to, Mary Frances?" asked her father. "Aren't you nearly ready?"
"Sh—sh!" Warned Mary Frances, with uplifted finger—then aloud:
"Oh, Father, I'm so disappointed! I had everything ready so nice and hot, and now everything's burnt up! Oh, de—ar, oh, oh, oh, de—ar!"
"Never mind, Honey," said her father, kissing away her tears. "Never mind! There's no hurry this morning, I'll fix the fire and you do it all over again."
"But I've wasted all the eggs—they're as hard as bricks—they cooked twenty minutes. I forgot them."
"They'll be fine in our salad to-night," said Brother; "I love hard-boiled eggs that way."
"Brother, you run out in the garden," said her father, "Sister is going to have our breakfast ready in a very few minutes."
"I'll do that," cried Billy, "and I'll have a fine appetite."