Douglas stared at his mentor, wonderingly, unwound his long legs from the fence and crossed the yard. Grandma answered his timid rap.
"Charleton says how's his wife and sends his love."
"O, he does!" witheringly. "Why don't he go over to the post-office and telephone us? You tell him she did fine like she always does everything. You folks go up and get Peter to give you some breakfast."
"I'm not going near Peter till I see the boy and my wife!" called
Charleton.
Grandma slammed the door.
"I wouldn't go near the post-office," said Douglas, established again on the fence beside Charleton.
"Why not?"
"If—if I felt like you do, I'd want to stay by myself, just take a ride alone up to the top of Fire Mesa."
"I don't care what I do as long as the boy's here. Charleton Falkner, Jr.! I'll tell you, Doug, you'll never know what happiness life can hold for you till a woman like Marion gives you a son."
"Say!" cried Douglas in an outraged voice. "What's all this talk you've been giving me for a year about whiskey and women and horses?"