When is bacon bacon, and eggs eggs? When is coffee coffee, and the
despised pickerel, fresh from the cold water of the shaded lake, a
glorious brown food, fit for the gods?
Answer, while Molly (whose real name is Aunt Martha) serves them to
us, forty-five minutes later.
Oh, if we only had time to eat, as that breakfast deserves to be
eaten! If we only had time!
But we haven't; no; Sandford says so, in a voice that leaves no room
for argument. The sky is beginning to redden in the east; the surface
of the water reflects the glow, like a mirror; and, seen through the
tiny-paned windows, black specks, singly and in groups, appear and
disappear, in shifting patterns, against the lightening background.
"No more now, Aunt Martha--no. Wait until noon; just wait--and _then_
watch us! Ready, Ed?"
"Waiting for you, Sam." It's been a year since I called him by his
Christian name; but I never notice, nor does he. "All ready."
"Better try the point this morning; don't you think, Johnson?"
"Yes, if you've your eye with ye. Won't wait while y' sprinkle salt on
their tails, them red-heads and canvas boys. No, sir-ree."