“Oh, you are a very remarkable person, Aunt Gertrude,” he said gravely.
“Tut! You mustn’t laugh at me, you impudent boy,” said Mrs. Lambert, shaking her head, and pretending to be severe. “You must be very respectful.” But she was tremendously pleased with herself for having discovered a vein of gaiety in her unsociable nephew. His slight smile, the first spontaneous expression she had seen on his face, was like a light thrown across his harsh, aquiline features, giving the first glimpse that anyone of the family had seen, into the gentler traits of his character; and Aunt Gertrude felt that she had been right in attributing his abrupt, ungracious manner to loneliness and depression.
“Now,” she said briskly, “I shall finish this first batch, just to show you how it is done, and then you must do one all by yourself. How nice it is to have you to help me! You can’t think how I dislike being shut up in this room for hours every day without anyone to talk to.” Indeed, there was nothing that Aunt Gertrude disliked more heartily than solitude and silence. Like Jane, she adored people in general, she loved chat and gossip, she loved to hear all that was going on, and could never escape too quickly to the shop, where all day long the townspeople were running in and out, always stopping for a short chat with the lively, inquisitive merry proprietress.
“You see, now, you have to knead this dough quite vigorously,” was her next instruction, and turning her sleeves back from her strong, white arms, she proceeded to give a demonstration, while Paul sat by, with his elbow on the table, resting his head on one hand, and smiling at her very vigorous treatment of the meek, flabby dough.
“You’re certainly giving that poor stuff an awful trouncing, Aunt Gertrude. Don’t you think you ought to let up a bit?”
“Not at all,” returned Mrs. Lambert, seriously, “I never let up, once I begin.”
“What a terrible character you are, Aunt Gertrude! Here, do you want me to take a hand at it?”
“No, no,” panted Aunt Gertrude. “Now don’t interfere. Just watch me.” And again she began her pummelling with redoubled energy. The exercise brought a deep flush to her smooth cheeks; a lock of brown hair barely tinged with grey kept falling over her forehead, and she kept tucking it back with the patience of absent-mindedness.
“You can’t imagine how good these cakes are, my dear. They are my very favorites, though I know I shouldn’t eat so many myself. I’m afraid I’m going to be a very fat old lady.”
“Then we’ll put you in the window as an advertisement.”