“What an unearthly hour,” he said, unable to check the yawns. Yates’ years on a morning newspaper had made seven o’clock something like midnight to him. He had been unable to sleep until after two o’clock, his usual time of turning in, and now this rude wakening seemed thoughtless cruelty. However, he dressed, and yawned himself downstairs.
They were all seated at breakfast when Yates entered the apartment, which was at once dining room and parlor.
“Waiting for you,” said young Hiram humorously, that being one of a set of jokes which suited various occasions. Yates took his place near Miss Kitty, who looked as fresh and radiant as a spirit of the morning.
“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long.” he said.
“No fear,” cried Mrs. Bartlett. “If breakfast’s a minute later than seven o’clock, we soon hear of it from the men-folks. They get precious hungry by that time.”
“By that time?” echoed Yates. “Then do they get up before seven?”
“Laws! what a farmer you would make, Mr. Yates!” exclaimed Mrs. Bartlett, laughing.
“Why, everything’s done about the house and barn; horses fed, cows milked--everything. There never was a better motto made than the one you learned when you were a boy, and like as not have forgotten all about:
“‘Early to bed and early to rise Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.’
I’m sorry you don’t believe in it, Mr. Yates.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” said Yates with some loftiness; “but I’d like to see a man get out a morning paper on such a basis. I’m healthy enough, quite as wealthy as the professor here, and everyone will admit that I’m wiser than he is; yet I never go to bed until after two o’clock, and rarely wake before noon.”
Kitty laughed at this, and young Hiram looked admiringly at the New Yorker, wishing he was as clever.
“For the land’s sake!” cried Mrs. Bartlett, with true feminine profanity, “What do you do up so late as that?”
“Writing, writing,” said Yates airily; “articles that make dynasties tremble next morning, and which call forth apologies or libel suits afterward, as the case may be.”
Young Hiram had no patience with one’s profession as a topic of conversation. The tent and its future position was the burning question with him. He mumbled something about Yates having slept late in order to avoid the hearing of the words of thankfulness at the beginning of the meal. What his parents caught of this remark should have shown them how evil communications corrupt good manners; for, big as he was, the boy had never before ventured even to hint at ridicule on such a subject. He was darkly frowned upon by his silent father, and sharply reprimanded by his voluble mother. Kitty apparently thought it rather funny, and would like to have laughed. As it was, she contented herself with a sly glance at Yates, who, incredible as it may seem, actually blushed at young Hiram’s allusion to the confusing incident of the day before.