We welcomed them in, and Spoof set his bundle down on end in the middle of the floor, and began to unwind it. The woman removed her coat and cap and veil. It was Mrs. Alton. The bundle resolved itself into Mrs. Alton's boy.
"Miss Hall, let me present my wife," said Spoof. "My wife. And my son Gerald."
CHAPTER XXIII.
After the first blank moment of surprise I turned, not to Spoof or "Mrs. Alton" or the boy, but to Jean. There was a momentary tremulousness, but almost instantly Jean had herself under control; she was more the artist than I knew. I began to realize how far her artistry carried.
"This is news!" she cried. "When did——" She stopped short. A wave of color flushed her face. Gerald did not admit of casual explanation.
The child, now relieved of cumbersome clothing, was standing on sturdy feet in the middle of the room getting his bearings. His big, intelligent eyes were losing no time in making an appraisal of me and mine.
Jean swooped upon him; clasped him up in her arms. Perhaps it was because at that moment she must have action. Her face was pressed into his little white neck. "Big Boy, Big Boy," she whispered, "why didn't you tell me this before?"
Spoof and his wife and I still stood as though rooted to the floor. The woman seemed to avoid my gaze, but when at times I caught a glimpse of her face there was something finer than embarrassment in it; there was embarrassment, it is true, but something almost seraphic as well.
Suddenly, "I think we women should go over to Twenty-two," Jean exclaimed. "Marjorie must know the great news. Come, Jerry!"
At the door the collie joined them, capering uneasily in the snow. Spoof and I watched them as they took their way along the well-trodden trail across the gully; then we stabled his oxen in silence.