“What for?” she continued, searching his face.
“To enlist.”
She made no reply, but applied herself quietly to her task of preparing breakfast. When Bard came in he saw Mauney sitting on the step that led to the dining-room with his valise on the floor beside him.
“What are you doin’ with your Sunday clothes on?” he asked, while his narrow eyes fell to notice the valise. “Where are yuh goin’?”
“Lockwood.”
“What for?”
“To enlist.”
Bard stamped across the floor to the wash basin and began vigorously washing his hands. Only the unnecessary splashing of water and the rattling of the basin expressed his mental condition. When he finished he walked to his place at the table and sat down.
“Annie,” he said very softly, “give me them eggs.”
The woman obeyed with great punctiliousness as if dreading the storm of language soon to escape the paternal lips. Bard ate in silence, never once looking up. Then, pushing his plate from him, he loaded his pipe, lit it, and for the first time glanced at Mauney.