“It’s Paul!” The thought flashed across her mind instantly. Her first impression of her new cousin was disappointing. Though such matters rarely counted for much with Jane, she was really shocked by the shabbiness of his appearance; for covered as he was with mud, his ill-fitting, outworn clothes made him look like a veritable ragamuffin. But it was not this so much as his whole bearing and expression that displeased her. There was something both sullen and stubborn in his face, which, combined with lines of weariness and hunger, made him seem much older than he really was, and decidedly unattractive. And she had been so sure that she was going to like her new cousin; she had pictured him as a jolly, ruddy, lively boy who would probably enter heart and soul into her enjoyments; someone with whom you could make friends in five minutes; whereas unsociability was stamped on every feature of this boy’s sallow, unsmiling face.
Just then the sharp tapping of Granny’s cane resounded through the corridor. The old lady’s singular impatience to know who the stranger was, had not allowed her to wait for Jane’s tardy report. With her cap askew, she appeared at the head of the stairs.
“Who is it? Who is it?” she demanded, almost breathlessly. “Stand aside, child.” And without waiting for a reply, she descended the stairs with wonderful rapidity, marched to the dining room door, and flung it open.
“Peter! Gertrude!” she blinked nervously into the room, where only the firelight illumined the two figures in the dusk. Then she stared into Paul’s face. It was only a moment before her uncertainty disappeared.
“I knew it! I knew it!” she cried. “Peter Lambert, why didn’t you tell me? Ah, heaven’s! My dear boy, I am your old Granny!” And weeping from sheer joy, she unhesitatingly flung her arms around his neck and kissed him.
A few moments later the entire family had collected to welcome the newcomer. The twins with their round blue eyes fastened on him gravely, clung to their mother, who kissed him warmly, exclaimed over his size, and at once began to worry affectionately about his wet clothes. Elise greeted him with her usual gentle, modest smile, Carl with a patronizing, “How do you do, cousin?” and a keen glance, as if he were “sizing up” an opponent of some sort.
During these proceedings Paul looked utterly bewildered, and exceedingly awkward, as if he could not believe that all these good people who were smiling at him, shaking hands with him, and asking him if he were tired, were really his family. All that interested him was the fact that he smelt supper cooking.
Last of all to welcome him was Jane, who had stood aside, watching him intently; and it was he who turned to her, and with the polite smile that he had forced for the occasion, held out his hand.
“How do you do, cousin?”
“How do you do, cousin Paul?” repeated Jane decorously.