“Oh, just sort of cookies, with raisins and cinnamon and orange peel. No one knows how to make them but mother, because you see, she’s the only real Winkler—except Granny, and Granny’s too old to do much in the Bakery any more. When Paul comes of course he’ll learn how, because he’s a real Winkler too.”
“Who is Paul?”
Jane, at this, launched into the complete history of her family, charmed to find her listener who was far more interested than he himself was aware of being.
“And—and is this Miss Lily a cousin or something of yours?” inquired Mr. Sheridan, artfully bringing the topic around to the subject that for some reason he found particularly agreeable.
“No. She’s just Elise’s best friend.”
“And what does she do?”
“Oh, she practises on the piano, and sings, and embroiders, and goes to committees with her mother—though I don’t think she likes that much. And then she makes up bundles of things to send to people in China, and goes to see sick people.”
“Does she like that?”
“I guess so. She takes things to poor people—there are a whole lot of them who live along the creek, and she’s awfully good to them.”
“I see,” said Mr. Sheridan. He could not think of anything more to say just then, and after a pause, Jane began to think that she ought to be going.