“Is Paul our cousin, Papa?” asked Jane.
Mr. Lambert ignored her question.
“I feel great sympathy for the boy,” he said to his wife. “It is hard indeed to lose a father at his tender age. For after all, to whom can one turn for such disinterested guidance? Who will have his welfare more deeply at heart? I hope my son, that in comparing your lot,” he turned to Carl, “with that of this unfortunate young man, you will realize your blessings. And I hope, nay, I believe that in me, this orphaned youth will find one who in every way will strive to fill in his life a place worthy of the revered name of ‘father.’”
“Then,” continued Jane, who had been following up her own train of thought, “then Paul is a Winkler. And so he can go into the business when he is a man.”
This simple observation, which had not yet occurred to anyone, called forth looks of surprise.
“That is quite true!” exclaimed Mr. Lambert.
“But of course!” cried his wife.
“I see the beneficent hand of Providence in this,” said Mr. Lambert, who was fond of thinking that Heaven had his domestic affairs very much in mind. “Yes, we must prepare to welcome our nephew. I hope, my dear, that he will not prove difficult to manage. I hope that he is not lacking in a grateful heart.”
“Poor child. No father or mother, and so young,” murmured Mrs. Lambert, her eyes again filling with tears. “And I never even knew that Franz had a child. I had forgotten even that he had married.”
“Yon can put a cot in Carl’s room,” suggested Mr. Lambert; “I presume that the boy will arrive in a day or two. And now, children, it is a quarter past seven.”