"Him more Daddy?" she asked.
"I don't know," replied Monica, who was suckling her baby.
"Yes," said Jack in a rather hard tone, smiling with a touch of mockery. "I'm your new father."
The child smiled back at him a faint, mocking little grin, and put her finger in her mouth.
The day passed slowly in the strange place, Monica busy all the time with the children and the house. Poor Monica, she was already a drudge. She was still careless and hasty in her methods, but clean, and uncomplaining. She kept herself to herself, and did what she had to do. And Jack watched, mostly silent.
At last the lamp was lighted, the children were both in bed. Monica cooked a little supper over the fire.
Before he came to the fable, Jack asked:
"Is Jane Easu's child?"
"I thought you knew," she said.
"No one has told me. Is she?"