“In four days? This is the twenty-seventh. No, cousin, I couldn’t—and besides, even if I could, I haven’t anything to do it with. So I guess that’s all there is to that.” He tried to sound cheerful, and turning the picture against the wall of the house, announced that he was going back to the attic to see if everything was calm up there.
“Well, that’s pretty hard luck,” remarked Carl. “I daresay he’s more broken up than he lets on.”
Jane had begun to cry, hiding her face in Granny’s lap. Not even Paul could have been as cruelly disappointed as she.
“Oh, he would have won something! I’m sure he would have!” she wept, disconsolately. “He said he didn’t think so, but he did, and I know he did.”
“Well, one way or the other, it’s his affair,” said Carl, “and I certainly don’t see why you should be in such a stew over it.”
“It is my affair, too,” wailed Jane, and at this characteristic remark no one could help smiling.
“Come, Janey, darling, there’s no use in taking it so to heart,” said Mrs. Lambert, laying her hand softly on the curly head. “We are all dreadfully distressed about Paul, but he has taken his misfortune bravely, and after all he will have many more chances. Elise, isn’t that the bell in the bakeshop? Dear me, what can people think coming in to all that smoke. I wonder if it’s clearing out at all. Come now, Janey, cheer up.”
Janey lifted her face from Granny’s knees, and wiped her wet cheeks with the palms of her hands, leaving long smudges.
“There now. We must all be thankful that there was no worse harm done,” said her mother, kissing her. “Come along, Elise. You come with me too, Janey. We mustn’t keep anyone waiting.”
But Paul was already in the bakeshop, and was calmly counting out change to the customer when his aunt came in. He was rather pale, but apparently quite cheerful.