Robinette entered the dining room five minutes late, as usual, pretty as a pink, breathless with hurrying. She wore a white dress again, with one rose stuck at her waistband, “A little tribute from the gardener,” she said, as she noticed Lavendar glance at it. She went rapidly around the table shaking hands, and gave Carnaby’s red cheeks a pinch in passing that made Lavendar long to tweak the boy’s ear.
“Good morning, all!” she said cheerily, “and how is my first cousin once removed? Is he going to Weston with me this morning to buy hairpins?”
“He is!” Carnaby answered joyfully, between mouthfuls of bacon and eggs. “He has been out of hairpins for a week.”
“Does he need tapes and buttons also?” asked Robinette, taking the piece of muffin from his hand and buttering it for herself; an act highly disapproved of by Mrs. de Tracy, who hurriedly requested Bates to pass the bread.
“He needs everything you need,” Carnaby said with heightened colour.
“My hair is giving me a good deal of trouble, lately,” remarked Lavendar, passing his hand over a thickly thatched head.
“I have an excellent American tonic that I will give you after breakfast,” said Robinette roguishly. “You need to apply it with a brush at ten, eleven, and twelve o’clock, sitting in the sun continuously between those hours so that the scalp may be well invigorated. Carnaby, will you buy me butter scotch and lemonade and oranges in Weston?”
“I will, if Grandmother’ll increase my allowance,” 131 said Carnaby malevolently, “for I need every penny I’ve got in hand for the hairpins.”
“I hope you are not hungry, Robinetta,” said Mrs. de Tracy, “that you have to buy food in Weston.”