Horace attempted comfort. “You’ll feel better when you’ve had breakfast.” “I shan’t. I shan’t ever feel better. You oughtn’t to have brought me. You know I’m not responsible after midnight.” “But you were so keen on waking in the country.” She swept by him indignantly up the uncleared path, kilting her skirt. “Could I wake when I haven’t slept?” In the door a young man was standing--a very stolid and sensible young man. He wore oiled boots and corduroy breeches; he was coatless; his sleeves were rolled up and, despite the cold, his shirt was unbuttoned at the neck. In an anxious manner Mr. Dak was explaining to him the situation. As the others came up he was introduced as Sam; he at once began to speak of breakfast. “I don’t want any breakfast,” Fluffy pouted ungraciously; “all I want is a place to lie down.” Sam eyed her rather contemptuously--the way a mastiff might have looked at Twinkles. “The wife’s bathing the babies; but I daresay it can be managed.” He stepped back into the hall and shouted, “Mrs. Sam! Mrs. Sam!” Mrs. Sam appeared with a child in her arms, which she had hastily wrapped in a towel. She was a wholesome, smiling, deep-breasted young woman, with a face as placid as a Madonna’s. Three beds were promised and the ladies immediately retired. “Cross, aren’t they?” said Sam, before the last skirt had rustled petulantly up the stairs. “Rather,” Horace assented. “It’s to be expected,” said Mr. Dak. “Expected! Is it?” Sam scratched his head. “Well, all I can say is if a woman doesn’t choose to be agreeable, she can go somewhere else, as far as I’m concerned.” It was a rambling old house, paneled, many-windowed, and full of quaint furniture. The room in which breakfast was set was a converted kitchen, with shiny oak-chairs and a wide open-fireplace in which great logs blazed and crackled. It was cheerful with the strong reflected light thrown in by the newly laundered landscape. From the next room came the rumble of farm-hands talking; as the door opened for the maid to bring in dishes, the smell of baking bread and coffee entered. When the guests had seated themselves, their host became busy about serving. “I used to be a bit wild myself,” he said. “I knew Broadway as well as any man. But it made me tired--there’s nothing in it. If you want to be really happy, take my advice: settle down and have babies.”