Breakfast was nearly completed when we returned, and the party at the table looked up in amazement as we entered the room.
"I should admire to know," exclaimed Ella Wynkar, who affected Boston manners, and "admired" a good deal, "I should admire to know where you two have been! Mr. Arbuthnot declares that Mr. Viennet has been up since daybreak; and as for you," she said, turning to me, "I heard your door shut hours ago."
"Restrain your admiration, Miss Wynkar," said Victor, as he placed a chair for me. "We have been taking a short turn on the terrace for the fresh air. I wonder you did not emulate our example."
"Terrace, indeed!" exclaimed Phil. "I've been on the piazza for half an hour, and I'll take my oath you weren't within gunshot of the terrace all that time."
"Don't perjure yourself, my good fellow," said Victor, coolly, "but assist us to some breakfast. The terrace has given us an appetite."
"How is your headache, my dear?" said my aunt, from across the table.
"My headache, ma'am? Oh, I forgot—I beg your pardon; it's better, thank you."
"How serious it must have been!" said Josephine. "Oh! by the way, Mr. Rutledge, it isn't worth while to ask them to join us in our party this morning, is it? They didn't ask us to go with them."
Mr. Rutledge shrugged his shoulders. "I think, Miss Josephine, we are safe in asking them; they wouldn't accept, of course, and we should save our credit, you know."
"I would not trust them, sir. It's my advice that they're not asked."