The Senora never came downstairs so early.

Isabel had wavering inclinations, and generally followed them.
Sometimes, even her father had his cup of strong coffee alone in his study; so the first meal of the day was usually, as perhaps it ought to be, a selfishly-silent one.

"Too much enthusiasm and chattering at breakfast, are like too much red at sunrise," the doctor always said; "a dull, bad day follows it"-- and Antonia's observation had turned the little maxim into a superstition.
In the Senora's room, the precept was either denied, or defied.

Antonia heard the laughter and conversation through the closed door, and easily divined the subject of it.

It was, but natural.