And there they were, all of them, smiling and calling: big Uncle Jake with his big mustache, pretty Aunt Hilda hurrying forward, and Julian, their son, who was Foster's idol and Portia's best friend, even though he was her cousin and a boy besides.
There was a commotion of greetings and embraces. "Julian, you've grown a year's worth," said Mr. Blake.
Julian would soon be thirteen: a tall, skinny boy with orange-red crew-cut hair, freckles, glasses, and large eager-looking front teeth. One would not have guessed from his appearance that he was his school's best athlete, wonderfully coordinated. In addition to his skill at sports, he was of a scientific turn of mind, and an ardent amateur naturalist. It was his pursuit of an uncommon butterfly the summer before that had led him and Portia into the great swamp of Gone-Away, and indirectly to the battered resort houses where they had first made the acquaintance of Mrs. Cheever and her brother.
"How are they? Aunt Minnehaha and Uncle Pin?" was the first question Portia asked.
"They're O.K., they're fine," Julian said. "You should see Uncle Pin on ice skates! He's a wizard!"
Uncle Jake, in the lead, drew up beside a blue station wagon and opened the door.
"You have a new car!" exclaimed Portia accusingly. She had been very fond of the old one, which she had known since her babyhood.
"We had to," Uncle Jake said. "The other one got arthritis."
"Car-thritis, you mean," corrected Julian, who was partial to puns.
"Anyway, it's only new from our point of view, not from the dealer's," Uncle Jake said. "It was already three years old when we bought it."