The long night's rest had driven from her mind all thoughts of the statue. Was it really only yesterday that she had broken it? The thing seemed to have been on her conscience forever!
"'Girl Reading a Book,'" she said disdainfully, as she began to brush her hair vigorously. "Horrid old thing! I suppose she was a grind anyway, like Amanda Peabody."
The thought of Amanda did not serve to lift her spirits any, and it was in a rather gloomy mood that she finally descended to the breakfast table.
To make things worse, she found that all the rest of her family, including Chet, had breakfasted bright and early, which meant that she would have to eat her breakfast in lonely state.
The room was cheerful with sunlight, for Mrs. Bradley had often said that a bright dining-room had more to do with making a happy home than any other one thing. But this morning Billie did not even notice it.
She opened the swinging door to the kitchen and peeped in cautiously to see whether Debbie, their black and much pampered cook, was in a good enough mood to cook her some breakfast.
A cheerful aroma greeted her, and she sniffed at it longingly. Bacon and eggs and—was it corn bread that Debbie was just taking out of the oven?
"Oh, Debbie, give me something to eat, quick," she cried. "I'm starving."
Debbie turned and favored her with a large black stare.
"Dem dat gets up at nine o'clock in de mo'nin'," she declared, "done deserves to go hungry, Miss Billie, beggin' your pardon." Her tone matched the severity of her gaze.