“I won’t let you go! I won’t, Paul! You don’t understand. It’s all right—”
Just then, Mr. Lambert pushed the half-open door wide.
“Jane! What are you doing? Come in at once—you’ve chilled the whole house!”
Everyone had turned, and was staring in amazement, as Jane pulled Paul to the threshold, under her father’s very nose.
“What’s this?” cried Mr. Lambert, seizing his nephew by the arm.
“It’s—me, Uncle,” said Paul. “I am going. I only—”
“Going!” cried Mr. Lambert. “Going! Not at all! Come in! Come in!”
The next thing that the bewildered Paul was conscious of was that he was standing inside the room, facing the table full of guests, with his uncle’s arm jovially embracing his shoulders, Jane clinging to his hand, and everyone exclaiming over the returned prodigal.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” announced Mr. Lambert, but his speech was cut short, as Aunt Gertrude rushed forward to kiss the utterly dazed, uncomprehending, and horribly embarrassed boy.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Mr. Lambert began again, “you are aware, I think, of the recent honor bestowed upon my nephew—an honor which is shared not only by his family, but by this community of which he is a part!” The remainder of the speech, no less than its resounding introduction was pure Greek to Paul, who stood with his long arms dangling, helplessly, and with open mouth, gazing from face to face, as if trying to piece out the solution of the mystery.