He had been sitting reading the newspaper, but as they entered he rose and stretched out both hands to Adrienne, saying in a warm, gentle voice, "My dear child, you are very welcome."
As Adrienne advanced, to lay her hands in his, he gazed at her with something of surprised tenderness in his face, and murmured, "Rénée!" Then he added aloud: "What is your name, my dear?"
"Adrienne," she answered.
"Ah, yes, yes. That was her name, too," he said dreamily to himself. Then drawing out a chair from the table he continued, "Sit down and make the tea; I shan't have to do it for myself any more now."
She sat down as she was bid. Her uncle stood beside her some little time in silence, watching her movements.
"Why didn't they tell me you were so like your mother?" he asked presently.
"My mother!" exclaimed Adrienne. "Am I like her? She died so long ago I don't remember her at all," she added sadly.
"Yes, yes; only two years after she married him. It's a long time ago now. How old are you, my dear?"
"I was eighteen my last birthday," replied Adrienne; but her uncle did not seem to hear. He walked away to his place at the bottom of the table, and his next remark was to ask Rosie where the other children were. Rosie answered sedately that she thought they were coming presently, all except Winnie; and breakfast proceeded in silence till Bobbo came tumbling into the room with little Ellie following upon his heels.
He did not speak to any one, and would have taken his place at once at the breakfast table; but as Adrienne naturally held out her hand and said "Good morning," he came around and shook hands with her, asking with a hearty look out of his frank blue eyes, whether she had rested well. Then, though the children kept up a half-whispered conversation between themselves at their end of the table, they did not speak either to their uncle or to Adrienne. Mr. Blair maintained complete silence, and Adrienne devoted herself to Ellie, whose high chair was placed beside her.