"Your son, mother," said Winona. "Don't try to get up, Spike."
Mrs. Penniman bent over to kiss him. Spike's left went up accurately.
"He's so nervous," explained Winona, "ever since that French general sneaked up and kissed him on both cheeks when he pinned that medal on him."
"Mercy!" exclaimed Mrs. Penniman.
"For distinguished service beyond the line of duty," added the young wife, casually.
"I was so happy when I got your wire," sputtered her mother. "Of course, I was flustered just at first—so sudden and all."
"In the Army we do things suddenly," said Winona.
Heavy steps sounded within, and the judge paused at the open door. He was arrayed as for the Sabbath, a portentous figure in frock coat and gray trousers. A heavy scent of moth balls had preceded him.
"What's that new one I get?" asked Spike, sniffing curiously.
Winona pecked at her father's marbled cheeks, then led him to the chair.