The Happy Family discussed the tale freely and without regard for the feelings of Andy; they even became heated and impolite, and they made threats.  They said that a liar like him ought to be lynched or gagged, and that he was a disgrace to the outfit.  In the end, however, they decided to go and see, just to prove to Andy that they knew he lied.  And though it was settled that Weary and Pink should be the investigating committee, by the time they were halfway to the White House they had the whole Happy Family trailing at their heels.  A light snow had begun to fall since dark, and they hunched their shoulders against it as they went.  Grouped uncomfortably just outside the circle of light cast through the unshaded window, they gazed silently in upon Chip and the Little Doctor and J.G.  Whitmore, and upon one other; a strange lady in a black silk shirtwaist and a gold watch suspended from her neck by a chaste, black silken cord; a strange lady with symmetrical waves in her hair and gray on her temples, and with glasses and an eager way of speaking.

She was talking very rapidly and animatedly, and the others were listening and stealing glances now and then at one another.  Once, while they watched, the Little Doctor looked at Chip and then turned her face toward the window.  She was biting her lips in the way the Happy Family had learned to recognize as a great desire to laugh.  It all looked suspicious and corroborative of Andy’s story, and the Happy Family shifted their feet uneasily in the loose snow.

They watched, and saw the strange lady clasp her hands together and lean forward, and where her voice had before come to them with no words which they could catch distinctly, they heard her say something quite clearly in her enthusiasm:  “Eight real cowboys here, almost within reach!  I must see them before I sleep!  I must get in touch with them at once, and show them that I am a true friend.  Come, Mrs. Bennett!  Won’t you take me where they are and let me meet my boys? for they are mine in spirit; my heart goes out to them—­”

The Happy Family waited to hear no more, but went straightway back whence they had come, and their going savored of flight.

“Mama mine! she’s coming down to the bunkhouse!” said Weary under his breath, and glanced back over his shoulder at the White House bulking large in the night.  “Let’s go on down to the stable and roost in the hay a while.”

“She’ll out-wind us, and be right there waiting when we come back,” objected Andy, with the wisdom gained from his brief acquaintance with the lady.  “If she’s made up her mind to call on us, there’s no way under Heaven to head her off.”

They halted by the bunk-house door, undecided whether to go in or to stay out in the open.

“By golly, she don’t improve me!” Slim asserted pettishly.  “I hate books like strychnine, and, by golly, she can’t make me read ’em, neither.”