The second bell was beginning to chime as the Channings entered the
cloister gates. Tom and Charles had gone on before. Panting,
breathless, almost knocking down Annabel, came Tod Yorke, terribly
afraid of being marked late.
"Take care, Tod!" exclaimed Hamish. "Are you running for a wager?"
"Don't keep me, Mr. Hamish Channing! Those incapable servants of ours
never called us till the bell began. I have had no breakfast, and
Gerald couldn't find his shirt. He has had to come off in his dirty
one, with his waistcoat buttoned up. Won't my lady be in a rage when
she sees him?"
Getting up and breakfasting were generally bustling affairs at Lady
Augusta's; but the confusion of every day was as nothing compared with
that of Sunday. Master Tod was wrong when he complained that he had not
been called. The servants had called both him and Gerald, who shared
the same room, but the young gentlemen had gone to sleep again. The
breakfast hour was the same as other mornings, nine o'clock; but, for
all the observance it obtained, it might as well have been nine at
night. To give the servants their due, breakfast, on this morning, was
on the table at nine--that is, the cloth, the cups and saucers: and
there it remained until ten. The maids meanwhile enjoyed their own
leisurely breakfast in the kitchen, regaling themselves with hot
coffee, poached eggs, buttered toast, and a dish of gossip. At ten,
Lady Augusta, who made a merit of always rising to breakfast on a
Sunday, entered the breakfast-room in a dirty morning wrapper, and rang
the bell.
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