"Mercy goodness!" Montagu ejaculated, and dashed for the door that led into Mr. Wycherly's room. On this he thumped loudly; without waiting for permission to enter, he opened it just wide enough to thrust in his head, and repeated, "They've all three come," in a penetrating whisper.
Mr. Wycherly, who was shaving, dropped his razor and turned a soapy and astonished countenance towards Montagu, exclaiming, "What! al——!" when he hastily changed his remark to: "They've come to breakfast with us, have they? How exceedingly kind and friendly; run down at once and ask Mrs. Dew to lay three more places."
Herrick staring at Edmund, heard this and said slowly: "They don't generally lay for them."
"What?" cried Edmund, immensely interested. "Don't you have plates and knives and things?"
"I do," said Herrick; "at least not knives 'cept a silver one, but they never do. They will be pleased."
"But do you mean to tell me," Edmund exclaimed, appalled at the eccentricity of the Wycherly ménage as revealed by their daughter, "that they eat things right off the cloth? Whatever do they do when there's gravy?"
"They never has gravy, poor dears," said Herrick sadly.
Edmund sighed. As old Elsa would have said, it was "ayont him"; and they both looked so nice too. It was impossible to imagine Mr. and Mrs. Wycherly gnawing cutlets without so much as a plate between them. He got into his waistcoat and jacket in thoughtful silence. Montagu, who had not paid any attention to these astonishing revelations, being filled with hospitable concern as to whether there would be sufficient bacon and eggs for three extra persons, gave his hair one final thump with the brush and prepared to go downstairs.
"Stop!" cried Edmund; "you haven't said your prayers; hurry up!" Both boys knelt down by the bed, side by side, while Herrick watched their bowed heads with solemn interest.
"Why don't you begin?" she asked impatiently after a minute's silence.