Breakfast was the least formal of all the informal meals at Crownlands. Bottomley was never in evidence until the late luncheon; mail and newspapers, and the morning gaiety of the young people all made for cheerful disorder.
"If you're going into town at ten, Father, we'll go, too," Nina suggested. "But I can't," she was heard to murmur in an undertone to the disappointed Bruce. "I have to get CLOTHES, don't I?"
"Oh, Brazil--Brazil--Brazil!" the youth said, disgustedly. "I hate the sound of it!"
"THESE clothes are for the ranch," Nina said, smiling. Both her father and Harriet augured well from the youth's instantly transformed face.
"Say--honestly?" he asked, ineloquently, with an irrepressible grin.
"I think so," Nina murmured. The rest of their conversation was inaudible; they presently wandered forth to finish it on the tennis court. Ward followed his grandmother upstairs, and Harriet and Richard were left to finish their breakfast alone.
"You look tired," Harriet said, rising, when his omelette came in, and pausing beside the head of the table for an instant on her way to the pantry.
"I had a bad night," Richard admitted. "But that's not all you're going to have for breakfast?" he protested.
"I never have more!" Harriet smiled. "I'm sorry about the bad night," said she.
"I couldn't help thinking----" Richard began.