“Dollars, to be sure! But what is it Shakespeare says?”
“Don’t know, mothery; but it’s getting light, and I must get up and see about breakfast.”
“Yes, and we’re to have Indian; Thorne insisted on it.”
“What in the world is that?” thought Floy, raising her head to look at Hetty, who was making a hasty but very quiet toilet.
“Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!” they cried simultaneously, ending in a merry laugh.
“We’ll exchange Yankee sixpences when we get our faces washed,” said Hetty. “Breakfast in twenty minutes precisely. Indian all hot and hot!” and with the last word she darted from the room.
“Thorne gives a good bit o’ trouble one way and another,” observed Mrs. Goodenough, who had risen also and was dressing much more deliberately than Hetty had done; “he’ll have what he wants in spite of everything (in the line of trouble to other folks ’specially). But then there ain’t many that’s equivalent to him in learning. There isn’t anything but what he’s read; he knows everything. So it’s quite natural Prue should be proud of him and spoil him with humoring all his whims.”
“Do we all breakfast together this morning, Mrs. Goodenough?” asked Floy.
“Yes; but I’m going to wear this thick wrapper; it’s not handsome or dressy, but the comfort supersedes the outward appearance.”
With this remark she left the room.