Chapter XX
Carroll had arrived home very unexpectedly that Sunday morning. The family were at the breakfast-table. As a usual thing, Sunday-morning breakfast at the Carrolls' was a desultory and uncertain ceremony, but when Major Arms was there it was promptly on the table at eight o'clock. He had not yet, in the relaxation of civilian life, gotten over the regular habits acquired in the army.
“It isn't hard you'll find the old man on you, sweetheart,” he told Ina, “but there's one thing he's got to have, and that is his breakfast, and a good old Southern one, with plenty to eat, at eight o'clock, or you'll find him as cross as a bear all day to pay for it.”
Ina laughed and blushed, and sprinkled the sugar on her cereal.
“Ina will not mind,” said Mrs. Carroll. “She and Charlotte have never been sleepy-heads.”
Eddy glanced resentfully at his mother. He was a little jealous in these days. He had never felt himself so distinctly in the background as during these preparations for his sister's wedding.
“I am not a sleepy-head, either, Amy,” said he.
“It is a pity you are not,” said she, and everybody laughed.
“Eddy is always awake before anybody in the house,” said Ina, “and prowling around and sniffing for breakfast.”
“And you bet there is precious little breakfast to sniff lately, unless we have company,” said Eddy, still in his resentful little pipe; and for a second there was silence.