“Oh, Maudie, not cake for breakfast,” remonstrated Daisy. “I never heard of such a thing.”
But Maud was firm.
“I always thought I should like cake for breakfast,” she maintained. “It would be so different, you know.”
Daisy looked grave, but Molly was rather inclined to agree with her younger sister.
“People do have queer things for breakfast sometimes,” she reminded them. “Don’t you remember Papa told us about that place in Maine where he went fishing, and how they gave him pie and doughnuts every morning at seven o’clock? He said they were rather good when you were hungry.”
So Daisy’s scruples were silenced, and Dulcie volunteered to make the necessary purchases.
“I don’t believe we’d better all go,” she advised. “People stare so, and I suppose we do look a little queer, with all our parcels. I’ll leave the bag here on the sidewalk, and you can watch it till I come back.”
Nobody had any objections to offer, so Dulcie departed on her errand, returning in the course of a few minutes with two well-laden paper bags.
“I bought some rolls,” she announced; “they’re right out of the oven, the woman said, and I’ve got some nice fruit cake for Maud. I’m sorry I couldn’t get any butter, but the rolls are so fresh, I don’t believe we’ll mind eating them dry.”
But though her voice was cheerful, Dulcie’s face was grave and troubled, and when they had found a seat on the steps of a church, and the two younger children had begun on their impromptu breakfast, she drew Daisy aside to whisper anxiously: