"Now, never mind; she's just a little bit tired and excited over this
'Amazon' thing," Mrs. Toland assured him cheerfully, "and she'll have a
little talk with Mother by and by, and be her sweet self again by lunch
time!"
The little episode was promptly blotted out by the rising tide of
laughter and conversation that was usual at breakfast. Miss Toland
presently drifted into the study for some letter writing. Jim took a
deep porch rocker, and carried off the morning papers. Richie, sitting
at his father's left, squared about for one of the eager rambling talks
of which he and his father never tired. The doctor's blue eyes twinkled
over his theories of religion, science, history, poetry, and philosophy.
Richie's lean, colourless face was bright with interest. Ted
volunteered, as she often volunteered of late, to go for the mail, and
sauntered off under a red parasol, and Mrs. Toland slipped from the
table just in time to waylay her oldest son in the hall.
"Not going to catch the 9:40, Ned?" she asked.
"Sure pop I am!" He was sorry to be caught, and she saw it under his
bluff, pleasant manner.
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