Marian and Alice spread the luncheon out on a long tablecloth laid over the dust robes on the ground. Gertie and Chicken Little fed the little grouse with some moistened bread crumbs, finding it difficult at first to induce them to eat. But they would swallow, when the girls pried open their tiny beaks and stuck a crumb inside. Captain Clarke showed them how, and patiently helped them until each tiny craw was at least partly filled.
Marian and Alice watched him furtively.
“He is gentle as a woman,” Alice whispered, “and his face lights up wonderfully when he smiles, though it is stern usually.”
“Yes, I can see now why Jane is so fascinated. Do you know his smile is very much like Sherm’s? See–no, just wait a minute. Now–watch his upper lip–his mouth twists crooked exactly like Sherm’s. Chicken Little spoke of his baby’s picture having the same smile.” Marian dropped her 121eyes hastily as the Captain chanced to turn in their direction.
“I imagine lots of people have that kind of a smile only we never noticed them,” replied Alice.
“Of course, I didn’t mean to suggest anything. Will you cut the lemon cake?”
After the luncheon was eaten, the shady grove tempted them to linger on with its woodsy coolness. The younger folk dragging the Captain, a willing victim, along with them, went off on an exploring expedition while the others stretched out luxuriously on the coarse grass that grew rank along the slope.
It was four o’clock before they could tear themselves away for the homeward ride.
“You’d better hurry,” Frank called to the stragglers, “it will be almost dark before we get home even if we don’t stop to shoot.”
They picked up a few quail on the divide soon after they started, but their zest for the sport seemed to have waned. Chicken Little declined to try any further.