"I'm sorry I spoke as I did about the old lady," he said, after a
moment's reflection. "I was thinking of the way in which she left you
out of her invitation to breakfast."
"And yourself, incidentally," she smiled.
"Miss Courtenay, I'm--I'm a confounded ass for not thinking of your
breakfast. It's not too late. We are both hungry. Won't you come with
me and have a bit of something to eat? We'll try that farmhouse
ourselves. Come, let us hurry or the crowd will get in ahead of us.
Ham and eggs and coffee! they always have that sort of breakfast in
farmhouses, I'm told. Come."
[Illustration: Seated side by side...two miserable partner in the
fiasco]
She sprang up cheerfully, and followed him across the meadow to the
farmhouse. The Van Truder party was entering the door, smoke pouring
forth suggestively from a chimney in the rear of the house. The sudden
desire for ham and eggs was overcoming, in a way, the pangs of
outraged love; there was solace in the new thought.
That breakfast was one never to be forgotten by four persons; two
others remembered it to their last days on account of its amazing
excellence.
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