"Guess An-ina packed her to bed, Uncle Steve," he explained. "Keeko hadn't a notion that way, but it didn't signify with An-ina. She reckoned Keeko ought to be plumb beat and needing her bed. So she just handed her supper, and gave her her own bed to sleep in."
Steve glanced from one to the other. Then, in his ready way he nodded.
"Guess An-ina got these things better than you and me, boy," he said. "Anyway where other folks are concerned. There's only herself she don't know about. Guess we can feed ourselves for once, while she finds the blankets she's mostly ready to pass on to other folks."
A flicker of disappointment passed over the dusky face of the woman. But there was no demur. She understood. Steve wanted Marcel to himself for this, his first evening. So she bowed to the man's will.
With her going the two men sat in at the supper table. And of the two it was only Marcel who did real justice to the plain fare An-ina's hands had set out for them. The lover in Marcel left him still a giant that needed bodily support. But with Steve there was a burden of thought and emotion that left food the last thing to be desired.
For some moments there was a silence between them while the steaming tea was poured from the iron pot on the corner of the stove. Each man helped himself from the great dish of dry hash set for them. Steve helped himself from sheer habit. Marcel ate hungrily.
It was Marcel who broke the silence. He was in no mood for silence. There were many things seeking outlet in his mind. But paramount was the all-dominating subject of Keeko.
"Say, Uncle," he cried suddenly, "isn't she just great? Isn't she——?"
Steve nodded.
"She's greater," he said, with twinkling eyes.