"Poor auntie, you look so tired and pale. Is grandpa so very sick, and more troublesome than usual?"
Hannah had not cried in years. Indeed it was the effort of her life to keep her tears back, but now, at the sound of Grey's sympathetic voice and the touch of his fresh, warm lips upon her own, she broke down entirely, and for a few moments sobbed as if her heart would break, while Grey in great concern, knelt down before her, and tried to comfort her.
"What is it, auntie?" he said. "Is it because you are so lonely, and are afraid grandpa will die? I'll take care of you then, and we will go to Europe together, and you shall ride on a mule and cross the Mer-de-Glace. I used to think when I was over there how we would some day go together, and I would show you everything."
At the mention of Europe, Hannah's tears ceased, and commanding her voice, she said, abruptly:
"Did you go to Wales?"
"Yes, we went there first. Don't you remember?"
Without answering that question, Hannah continued:
"Did you go to Carnarvon?"
"Carnarvon! I guess we did. We spent a whole day at the old castle, and went all over it, and into the room where the first Prince of Wales was born. It isn't much bigger than our bath-room. But I tell you those old ruins are grand;" and with all a boy's enthusiasm over his first trip to Europe, Grey launched out into a graphic description of what, he had seen and done, repeating everything ridiculous in order to make his Aunt Hannah laugh.
"You ought to have heard father try to talk French," he said. "It was enough to kill one with laughing. He bought a little book and would study some phrase, and then fire it off at the waiters, screaming at the top of his voice, as if that would make them understand better; and once it was too funny. We were in a shop in Lucerne, and father wanted to know the price of something, so he held it up before a little dapper man with blue eyes and yellow hair, and said, 'Com-bi-on'—that's the way he pronounced it—'com-bi-on;' but the man didn't com-bi-on worth a cent, and only stared at him as if he thought him a lunatic. Then father tried again, and yelled as loud as he could, 'Pree—pree! how much-ee, much-ee?' Then there was a glimmer of a smile on the man's face, and when father, wholly out of patience, roared out, 'Damnation, are you a fool?' he replied, 'No, but I'm a Yankee like yourself, and the price of the carving is twenty-five francs;' and, sure enough, he was a chap from Maine. After that father always asked them first if they parlez-vous-ed English. Mother got on better, because she knew more of the language, and always gave a twist to the words which made them sound Frenchy; but she was afraid to talk much, for fear she'd make a mistake and Miss Grundy would laugh at her. She is awfully afraid of Miss Grundy, especially if the genus homo happens to be English. But I did not care. I wanted to learn, and I studied in the railway car, and at the table, and in bed, and had a teacher when we staid long enough in a place, and then I plunged in, mistake or no mistake, and talked to everybody. I used to sit on the box with the driver when we drove, so as to talk to him, and you have no idea what a lot you pick up that way, or how glad they are to help you; and now, though I do not suppose I always use good grammar or get the right accent, I can parlez with the best of them, and can speak German, too, a little. I think I have improved some; don't you, auntie."