Her effusions were stopped short by a cold and disapproving "Hush!" from Aunt Myra. It was as though someone had shot a skylark in its upward flight. Rebecca was silenced. She bowed her head in mortification, not knowing that the others at the table also were bowing theirs, until she heard Aunt Evelyn in devout tones asking that the Creator might bless the food to their use and them to His service.
"I—I beg your pardon," she faltered when Aunt Evelyn finished and the business of eating was begun. "I have never said my prayers at the table and—and did not know."
"Do not be sacrilegious," commanded Aunt Evelyn.
"I did not mean—" But what she did not mean was of no importance to her relatives and Rebecca's remarks trailed off into empty space.
Breakfast progressed in solemn silence. The child was big-eyed over the quantity and variety of food. Accustomed to a breakfast of chocolate and rolls and in affluent days maybe an orange or half of a grapefruit, this old Virginia breakfast seemed to her like a feast. There were strawberries and cream, roe-herring, ham and eggs, fried potatoes, fried apples, batter-bread, and then when all was over seemingly, stacks of waffles made their appearance.
