you
out. And Bruce, too. I have enough to do without having a husband who
makes fun of me and a dog who sticks his tail into everything under my
feet all the time. Hurry on," and she pushed her protesting, laughing
husband and the reluctant dog out through the open door and into the
brilliant sunshine beyond.

"Are you going to call us in time for breakfast?" Mr. Danvers called back
to his wife over his shoulder.

"Of course," she answered. "I'll send Connie after you." And she
playfully waved a frying pan at him.

"She put us out, Bruce," said Mr. Danvers laying a caressing hand on the
dog's beautiful head as he walked gravely along beside him. "But we love
her just the same, don't we?" And Bruce's answer was to press close to
Mr. Danvers and wave his tail enthusiastically.

Hardly had Mrs. Danvers had time to put the bacon in the oven to keep
warm and break the eggs into the pan when there was a sound of
skirmishing on the stairs, and a moment later a whirlwind broke in upon
her.

"Mother, Mother, Mother, everything smells good!" cried Connie, dancing
over to her mother and hugging her so energetically that she almost sent
the eggs, pan and all, on the floor. "Is there anything we can do to
help?"

"Yes--go away," cried Connie's mother, seeing with dismay that one of the
eggs in the pan was broken--and Connie's mother prided herself upon
serving perfect eggs. Then, as she saw the surprise in the girls' faces,
she relented, left the eggs to their fate, and hugged them all.

"You're darlings," she said. "But you're awfully in the way. Billie, for
goodness sake, hand me that pancake turner. Quick! These eggs are going
to be awful!"

But Billie had jumped to the rescue, and when the eggs were turned out on
the platter with the bacon surrounding them on four sides, they did not
look "awful" at all, but just about the most appetizing things the girls
had ever laid hungry eyes on.

"Oh, let me carry them!"

"No, let me!"

"I'll do it!"

And to a chorus of a score or so other such pleas, the eggs were borne
triumphantly into the dining room and set carefully on the table.

"Now the biscuits!" cried Connie, running back into the kitchen where her
mother was just heaping another platter high with golden brown
deliciousness.

"Oh, Mother," said Connie, darting a kiss at her mother that landed just
exactly on the tip of Mrs. Danvers' pretty astonished nose, "everything
you cook always looks just exactly like y