"Why, of course!" retorted Polly.
"Why shouldn't we?" asked Mrs. Brewster.
Sary could not explain, so she turned to the stove while mumbling to herself the doubts she had over the sanity of the women-folks of this queer family—excepting herself of course!
Anne had gone to the guest-room to call the girls, and to her relief, found them both dressed and ready for breakfast.
"It's a lovely morning," said she, in greeting to them.
"Yes, I've been sniffing the sweetness at the open window," replied
Eleanor, but Barbara stood unresponsive.
Anne noticed the simple-looking house-frocks they wore, and felt relieved at the simplicity of color and lines, although she knew that the name-tag inside of those dresses spoke silently of their cost.
"We're going to breakfast out on the lawn—it is perfectly charming there," explained Anne, leading the way from the living-room by way of the front door in order to avoid Sary and her scrub-pail.
But Sary had been anxiously peeping from the crack of the kitchen door, and felt mortally offended when the company went out by the front way. "Was it not enough that the folks were too far removed from the kitchen to permit Sary to overhear what was said at table, but now they have to walk out at the Sunday door?"
So thought the widow as she left her peep-hole back of the door and stood watching from the open window by the cupboard.