rooms.' And a knowledge of the appointments and customs of the
breakfast are often data enough to stamp the status of the
household.

In the Embury home, breakfast was a pleasant send-off for the
day. Both Sanford and Eunice were of the sort who wake up
wide-awake, and their appearance in the dining-room was always an
occasion of merry banter and a leisurely enjoyment of the meal.
Aunt Abby, too, was at her best in the morning, and breakfast was
served sufficiently early to do away with any need for hurry on
Sanford's part.

The morning paper, save for its headlines, was not a component
part of the routine, and it was an exceptionally interesting
topic that caused it to be unfolded.

This morning, however, Miss Ames reached the dining-room before
the others and eagerly scanned the pages for some further notes
of the affair in Newark.

But with the total depravity of inanimate things and with the
invariable disappointingness of a newspaper, the columns offered
no other information than a mere announcement of the coming
event.

"Hunting for details of your wild-goose chase?" asked Embury, as
he paused on the way to his own chair to lean over Aunt Abby's
shoulder.

"Yes, and there's almost nothing! Why do you take this paper?"