It was Sunday. I never get up early on Sundays. I sometimes stay in bed until lunch time. Last Sunday I got up very late. I looked out of the window. It was dart outside. 'What a day!' I thought. 'It's raining again.' Just then, a telephone rang. It was my aunt Lucy. 'I've just arrived by train,' she said. 'I'm coming to see you.' 'But I' m still having breakfast,' I said. 'What are you doing?' she asked. 'I'm having breakfast,' I repeated. 'Dear me,' she said. 'Do you always get up so late? It's one o'clock!'
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