Early the next morning as Vickers stole softly through the corridor, on his way for a stroll, a door opened and Isabelle looked out.
"You'll find coffee downstairs, Vick. I remembered your dawn-wandering habit and asked Mrs. Stevens to have it ready for you. I'll join you in a few moments."
Before he had finished his coffee, Isabelle appeared and sleepily poured out a cup for herself. The servant was making ready a tray at the sideboard.
"Tom is one of your sleepless kind, too," she explained. "He does his writing before the house is awake, so as not to be disturbed, or he says he does. I believe he just turns over and takes another nap!"
"Cairy seems at home here," Vickers observed, sipping his coffee.
"Of course, Tommy is one of the family," Isabelle replied lightly. "He is much more domesticated than John, though, since his great success last winter, he hasn't been up very much."
"Has he made a great success?" Vickers inquired. "What at?"
"Haven't you heard of his play! It ran all the winter, and this new one they say will also make a great hit."
Vickers, who remembered Cairy in college as one always endeavoring after things out of his reach, looked mildly surprised.
"I hadn't heard that he was a dramatist," he said.