“That's good. I judged you was makin' a pretty good try at it when I thumped on your door this mornin'. Somethin' new for you to be turned out at seven, eh?”
“No, sir.”
“Eh? It wasn't?”
“No, sir. The rising bell rang at seven up at school. We were supposed to be down at breakfast at a quarter past.”
“Humph! You were, eh? Supposed to be? Does that mean that you were there?”
“Yes, sir.”
There was a surprised look in the gray eyes now, a fact which Albert noticed with inward delight. He had taken one “rise” out of his grandfather, at any rate. He waited, hoping for another opportunity, but it did not come. Instead they sat down to breakfast.
Breakfast, in spite of the morning sunshine at the windows, was somewhat gloomy. The homesickness, although not as acute as on the previous night, was still in evidence. Albert felt lost, out of his element, lonely. And, to add a touch of real miserableness, the housekeeper served and ate like a near relative of the deceased at a funeral feast. She moved slowly, she sighed heavily, and the bandage upon her forehead loomed large and portentous. When spoken to she seldom replied before the third attempt. Captain Zelotes lost patience.
“Have another egg?” he roared, brandishing the spoon containing it at arm's length and almost under her nose. “Egg! Egg! EGG! If you can't hear it, smell it. Only answer, for heaven sakes!”
The effect of this outburst was obviously not what he had hoped. Mrs. Ellis stared first at the egg quivering before her face, then at the captain. Then she rose and marched majestically to the kitchen. The door closed, but a heartrending sniff drifted in through the crack. Olive laid down her knife and fork.