"The eggs will be like snowballs," cried Miss Jacky, popping them into the slop-basin.
"The tea will be like brandy," observed Miss Nicky, as she poured more water to the three teaspoonfuls she had infused.
"I wish we saw our breakfast," said the Laird, as he finished the newspapers, and deposited his spectacles in his pocket.
At that moment the door opened, and the person in question entered in her travelling dress, followed by Sir Sampson, Philistine bringing up the rear with a large green bag and a little band-box.
"I hope your bed was warm and comfortable. I hope you rested well. I hope Sir Sampson's quite well!" immediately burst as if from a thousand voices, while the sisters officiously fluttered round their friend.
"I rested very ill; my bed was very uncomfortable; and Sir Sampson's as sick as a cat—humph!"
Three disconsolate "Bless me's!" here burst forth.
"Perhaps your bed was too hard?" said Miss Grizzy.
"Or too soft?" suggested Miss Jacky.
"Or too hot?" added Miss Nicky.