Elise undisturbed by this interruption, added again in a tone as if she were arguing out his faults and virtues with herself,
“And even if his moustache was queer, he—he had a very nice complexion.” Then realizing that Jane had overheard this remark, she blushed a vivid pink, pretended to be looking for her work bag, and then asked, coldly,
“What are you laughing at, Janey?”
“I?” said Jane innocently; “I wasn’t laughing. Gracious! I wasn’t laughing.”
[CHAPTER XVI—A FAMILY MATTER]
The appearances of Mr. P. Hyacinth Montgomery at the Bakery became very frequent. His devotion to the family increased so rapidly that in a little while, not a day passed without his calling to inquire solicitously for the health of all, to talk to Aunt Gertrude, present a bouquet of wild flowers to Granny (who always had to have them taken out of her room because they made her sneeze), and play with the twins like an affectionate uncle.
One day, having noticed the sign on the Bakeshop window, evidently for the first time, he inquired how the name there happened to be “Winkler,” when the family name was “Lambert.” He showed so much interest in the matter that Mrs. Lambert, flattered, gave him a short history of the family, to which he listened thoughtfully, once murmuring something about “coincidence.”
“A quaint history,” he remarked.
No member of the household was so blind as not to notice the preference that Mr. Montgomery showed for the society of Miss Elise, nor her tell-tale bashfulness when he plucked up sufficient courage to address her. But Mr. Lambert so plainly disapproved of the young man that not even his wife dared to open any discussion on the subject with him, for fear that a violent explosion would result. The old merchant maintained a stolid silence which all the pathetic efforts of Mr. Montgomery were powerless to thaw; though now and then Mr. Lambert was inspired to break it himself in order to utter sarcasms that reduced the poor young man to the last stage of discomfort and despair, and frequently caused Elise to weep bitterly in the solitude of her little bedroom. At the same time, she found something rather agreeable to her romantic taste in this rôle of unhappy love-lorn maiden.
“You are enjoying a great deal of leisure, Mr. Montgomery,” Mr. Lambert remarked one evening, looking at the writhing youth over his spectacles. “Is it a vacation—or a habit?”