They were not changed. The elder, with a hook nose and long hair, was pleasant in manner and seemed to be kind; the younger, Victor, had the same horse-like face and the same freckles. Their mother, grandmother's sister, was very cross and fault-finding. The elder son was married. His wife was a splendid creature, white like bread made from Indian corn, with very large, dark eyes. She said to me twice during the first day:
"I gave your mother a silk cloak trimmed with jet."
Somehow I did not want to believe that she had given, and that my mother had accepted, a present. When she reminded me of it again, I said:
"You gave it to her, and that is the end of the matter; there is nothing to boast about."
She started away from me.
"Wh-a-at? To whom are you speaking?"
Her face came out in red blotches, her eyes rolled, and she called her husband.
He came into the kitchen, with his compasses in his hand and a pencil behind his ear, listened to what his wife had to say, and then said to me:
"You must speak properly to her and to us all. There must be no insolence." Then he said to his wife, impatiently, "Don't disturb me with your nonsense!"
"What do you mean—nonsense? If your relatives—"