"Horror!" shuddered Nathalie. "The very thought is pain."
"They are spoiled," spoke Helen, "and even I am getting into bad habits. I simply gave up struggling, and set the breakfast hour a half hour later, with the desperate hope that it might bring them down on time."
"Girls, you ought to be ashamed," said Eleanor, with well-feigned reproach in her tone.
"What nonsense! You would do exactly the same yourself if Mrs. Moffins were not such a disciplinarian. You can't make me think you are so superior," laughed Nathalie.
Helen rose, and, pushing open the blind door, stepped out on the veranda. It was a beautiful June morning, bright and sunshiny. The air was soft and warm, and the gentle south wind felt like a caress. The fragrance of roses and honeysuckles was almost intoxicating. Every now and then the delicious stillness was broken by the soft plaintive song of a bird. The old manor looked more beautiful than ever to Helen, who loved every nook and cranny of it. She stood for a moment, shading her eyes with her hand from the sun.
"What a pretty day," she murmured to herself. "Oh, I wish——" but then a voice called her, and she went back into the house.
"Helen," said Jean, coming out from the dining room, "ask Auntie if we can go in bathing. It is so warm, and we are wild to go in."
"Very well," nodded Helen, as she went upstairs.
Mrs. Dennis was in her chair by the window, with her breakfast tray on a small table at her side.
"Good-morning, darling," she said cheerily. "Where did these delicious strawberries come from?" glancing at the pretty cut-glass dish which was filled with them.