eight o'clock
Breakfast was on the table . To Irene , who came down in her dressing gown with her hair just bundled up and her face coated with powder , eight o'clock was an unearthly hour at which to begin the day . In New York she slept until eleven , read the paper until twelve , cooked and disposed of a combined breakfast-lunch at one , and if it was a matinee day , rushed round to the theater , and if it was n't , killed time until her work called her in the evening . A boob 's life , as she called it , was a trying business , but the tyranny of the bustling woman with whom she lodged was such that if breakfast was not eaten at eight o'clock it was not there to eat . Like an English undergraduate who scrambles out of bed to attend Chapel simply to avoid a fine , this product of Broadway theaterdom conformed to the rule of Mrs. Burrell 's energetic house because the good air of Devon gave her a voracious appetite . Then , too , even if she missed breakfast , she had to pay for it , `` so there you are , old dear . '' Tootles , up with the lark as usual , was down among the ducks , giving Farmer Burrell a useful hand .