Greatly to Marjorie's relief, no Hortense appeared with offers of assistance, and she performed her morning toilet in peace. She put on the gray flannel suit, which Elsie had pronounced "good enough for breakfast and luncheon," and then once more glancing at the clock, discovered that it was still only five minutes past seven. "If they breakfast at seven I shall be only five minutes late," she said, with a feeling of satisfaction; "I should have hated to be late the first morning. Perhaps they won't have it till half-past, and then I shall have time to write a few lines to Mother first." She opened her door, and crossed the hall to the drawing-room, where her aunt had told her the family usually breakfasted, in preference to going downstairs to the restaurant, but somewhat to her surprise, she found the room just as she had left it on the previous evening, and the whole apartment seemed very quiet. She went to one of the windows and looked out. "What a lot of people there are in the street," she remarked reflectively, "and they all seem in such a hurry. I wonder where they are going. How pretty the park is. Oh, how I should love a gallop on Roland before breakfast." The door behind her opened, and a woman with a duster in her hand came in. She looked very much surprised at finding the room occupied. "Good morning," said Marjorie, with her friendly smile; "it's a lovely day, isn't it?" "It's very pleasant," returned the chambermaid, still looking surprised. "You are up early, Miss," she added politely. "Am I?" said Marjorie, surprised in her turn. "I didn't know I was. At what time do my aunt and uncle generally have breakfast?" "Never before half-past eight, and sometimes later. Mrs. Carleton generally has her breakfast in bed, but Mr. Carleton and the young lady have theirs in here." "Half-past eight," repeated Marjorie in dismay, "and it's only a little after seven now. I should say I was early." The maid smiled, and began dusting the ornaments without making any further remarks. She did not appear to be a very communicative person, and Marjorie decided that she might as well go back to her room, and write the letter to her mother, which could now be a much longer one than she had at first intended. But on the way she suddenly changed her mind. "I can write later just as well," she decided, "and it really is much too beautiful to stay indoors. I'll go and have a walk in that lovely park. I shall feel much more like breakfast when I've had some fresh air and exercise." Marjorie had not the least idea that she was doing anything unusual as she ran lightly down the broad marble stairs five minutes later, and stepped out through the open street door into the fresh morning air. The Carleton's apartment was on the fifth floor, but Marjorie scorned to use the lift, which had struck her the evening before, as a very wonderful but unnecessary invention.