“What an unearthly hour,” he said, unable to check the yawns. Yates’ years on a morning newspaper had made seven o’clock something like midnight to him. He had been unable to sleep until after two o’clock, his usual time of turning in, and now this rude wakening seemed thoughtless cruelty. However, he dressed, and yawned himself downstairs.
They were all seated at breakfast when Yates entered the apartment, which was at once dining room and parlor.
“Waiting for you,” said young Hiram humorously, that being one of a set of jokes which suited various occasions. Yates took his place near Miss Kitty, who looked as fresh and radiant as a spirit of the morning.
“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long.” he said.
“No fear,” cried Mrs. Bartlett. “If breakfast’s a minute later than seven o’clock, we soon hear of it from the men-folks. They get precious hungry by that time.”
“By that time?” echoed Yates. “Then do they get up before seven?”
“Laws! what a farmer you would make, Mr. Yates!” exclaimed Mrs. Bartlett, laughing.
“Why, everything’s done about the house and barn; horses fed, cows milked—everything. There never was a better motto made than the one you learned when you were a boy, and like as not have forgotten all about:
“‘Early to bed and early to rise
Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.’
I’m sorry you don’t believe in it, Mr. Yates.”