The Elk County advocate. [volume] (Ridgway, Pa.) 1868-1883, 1881-05-19
AN INVITATION TO BREAKFAST

"Walk out to my house, and have
breakfast with me some morning"
Such was the invitation given to me
one day by Mr.. Robertson, a genial,
middle-aged solicitor to whom 1 was
articled, in the thriving town of Abbey
ton.
Now, 1 had only been articled for
q few weeks and what 1 had seen of
Mr.. Robertson in business, made me
wish to know him and his in their
private life; hence 1 was much delight
ed to have this opportunity of gratify-
ing my wish. A few days afterward,
waking up and finding glorious sum-
mer sun streaming into my room, L
speedily decided that this was just the
kind of morning on which L should ac-
cept the invitation to breakfast at Alb
hey Grove; and in few minutes was
on my way thither.
Abbey Grove was situated about two
miles from the town, and consisted of O
small cluster of villas, built in prettily
situated spot, which, generations ago,
had formed part of the grounds of an
old abbey. The only remains of this
ancient building, however, were a few
yards of crumbling wall, with here and
there vestiges of what at one time had
been traceIied windows; these, with
numerous mounds of stones and ma
sonry, were all that was now left to tell
OF what had been there centuries ago.
Most of these mounds were now cov-
cred with grass and shrubs and trees,
20 Il n1i oh f1111 1E Ind Il
retreat, which the inhabitants of Abbey
Grove villas enjoyed in common.
The invigorating charms of an early
walk on summers morning need no
description The pure air, the genial
sun, the twitteling birds, the sparkling
dew, and soft low breeze, all tend to ex-
hilarate ones spirits and to make the
day pleasanter and happier throughout.
All these experiences were mine on the
day [ write Of As approached Abbey
Grove and saw the houses peeping from
out the surrounding trees, commenced
wondering as to what kind of a residence
would be occupied by Mr.. Robertson,
how it would be furnished, what kind
of people his wife and family would be
like, and the kindred things that you
speculate upon when going to visit a
house for the first time. Last, but by
no means least, as my walk continued,
I wondered what kind of breakfast
there would be to appease the appetite
stimulated by the breeze.
1 walked down the short avenue lead
ing to the houses, and then began to
wonder which of the half-dozen villas
I was bound for. This small COM
munity dispensed with numbers to their
houses, nor did they even distinguish
them by the ambitious and ridiculous
names which you see stuck up on most
suburban residences. No; nothing SAVIOR
ing so of the town for this group of
country residents; they all called their
several houses by the common name of
Abbey Grove; and the stranger had to
take his chance of having to go to each
of the houses in turn, before he found
the particular one he sought. Fortune
favored me, however, by sending across
my path a travelling directory in the
shape of the local milzman; and in re-
sponse to my inquiry as to which house
was Mr.. Robertson's, L received the
straightforward reply: "This ere one
as I've jist come from, sir" Walking
up the path I found the door invitingly
open, and the housemaid putting the
finishing touches on the bell-handle.
"Master is not down yet, SIR" she
replied to my inquiry as to whether he
was at home, which, considering the time
of day, really appeared an absurd ques-
tion to ask the girl; but we get accus-
toned to use stereotyped phrases under
ONE circumstances.
sob, then, 1 will come in and wait, :"
I replied.
"What name shall say, sir?" asked
the girl.
"Just tell him Mr.. Brooks has called,
and he will understand"
So saying the girl showed me into a
snug little breakfast-room, where the
sunbeams and the fresh morning air
seemed to be vying with each other as
to which should have possession of the
room, with such friendly rivalry were
they streaming through two wide
French windows, which opened upon a
tastefully arranged lawn and fower-beds
outside. While noticing these things
the housemaid had gone upstairs to an
nounce me, when something like the
following dialogue ensued:
Please, ma'am, Mr.. Brooks is down.
stairs"
Mr.. Brooks Who is he ?" was the
response, in muffied female voice.
81 don't know, ma'am," the maid re-
piled. "Tve never seen him here be-
fore. But he's young gentleman, and
says he'll wait till master comes down"
Whoever can he be, and what can
he want, bothering here, at this time of
day?" continued the muffied voice; and
thereupon the door was shut.
Now, this was not exactly pleasant to
me-. but when / reflected that most
probably Mrs. Robertson would be un-