"Well!" he said, "er—this is splendid, splendid! You are—er—splendid! Where is the boy?"
"There he is," she said, pointing down to where a naked urchin in the deep shade was piling fallen lemons together.
The father gave an odd little laugh.
"Ah, yes! there he is! So there's the little man! Fine!" he said. He really was thrilled in his suppressed, nervous soul. "Hello, Johnny!" he called, and it sounded rather feeble. "Hello, Johnny!"
The child looked up, spilling lemons from his chubby arms, but did not respond.
"I guess we'll go down to him," said Juliet, as she turned and went striding down the path. Her husband followed, watching the rosy, fleet-looking lifting and sinking of her quick hips, as she swayed a little in the socket of her waist. He was dazed with admiration, but also, at a deadly loss. What should he do with himself? He was utterly out of the picture, in his dark grey suit and pale grey hat, and his grey, monastic face of a shy business man.
"He looks all right, doesn't he?" said Juliet, as they came through the deep sea of yellow-flowering oxalis, under the lemon trees.
"Ah!—yes! yes! Splendid! Splendid!—Hello, Johnny! Do you know Daddy? Do you know Daddy, Johnny?"
He crouched down and held out his hands.
"Lemons!" said the child, birdly chirping. "Two lemons!"