The breakfast-gong rang at eight o'clock, but it was a good ten minutes later before Cornelia came sauntering downstairs, singing an unknown ditty at the pitch of a sweet, if somewhat nasal voice. She was dressed in white of the most elaborate simplicity, and her shaded hair looked even more crisply conspicuous than on the night before. The last line of the song did not come to an end until she was half-way across the dining-room floor, and so far from being dismayed by her aunt's stare of disapproval, she only laughed, waved her hands, and threw an extra flourish into the rallentando. Then she swooped down upon the stiff figure, hugged it affectionately, and planted three kisses on the cold, grey face; one on the lips, one on the brow, a third--deliberately--on the tip of the nose. "Cornelia, please! Recollect yourself, my dear! Have a little respect. You must never do that again!" cried Miss Briskett, irritably, but the girl showed not the faintest sign of being awed. "It's the nose of my father, and I've just _got_ to kiss it! It's not a mite of use promising that I won't. I've got to kiss it regularly every morning, and every night, until he comes over to be kissed himself!" she announced calmly, seating herself at the opposite side of the square dining-table, and peering curiously at the various dishes. "Poppar says you never have anything for breakfast in England but bacon and eggs, but I don't see any here. What's under this cover?--Fish?" "If you wait a few minutes your bacon will be brought in. It had grown cold with waiting so long, so I sent it away to be kept hot. The breakfast hour is eight; not a quarter past." "It's not a mite of use telling me the hours. I'm always late! I don't suppose I've ever been down in time in my life, unless by a mistake," returned Cornelia, cheerfully. "I like to stay in bed and let the day get sorter warmed up and comfortable, before I begin. What makes you want to get up so early, anyway? I should have thought nine would have been heaps early enough, when you have nothing to do." It was not a promising beginning to the day. In her own household Miss Briskett was accustomed to an authority as complete as that of the general of an army. She was just, and she was generous; her servants were treated with kindness and consideration, but if they wished to retain their places, they had to learn the lesson of dumb, unquestioning obedience. She might be right, she might be wrong, she might remember, she might forget--no matter! it was not their business to enlighten her. "Theirs but to do, and die!" She would not brook a question as to her own authority. It was, therefore, a distinct blow to the good lady to find her decrees ignored by her young guest with a smiling good-nature, more baffling than the most determined opposition.