Part 11 (2/2)

At the end of twenty minutes she had finished kneading and rolling the dough, and with a sigh of relief, turned to Paul.

”There now, you see exactly how it is done, don't you?”

But Paul did not answer. With a stub of charcoal which he had fished from his pocket, the future baker was sketching busily on the smooth round top of a flour barrel. Aunt Gertrude's mouth opened in speechless indignation.

”Tut! what are you doing?”

Paul looked up. Then, seeing Mrs. Lambert's face, he began to laugh.

”Well, you told me to watch you, Aunt Gertrude. I've been watching you.

Why are you cross?”

”But is that any way to do?” demanded Mrs. Lambert, clasping her hands with a gesture of indignant reproach. ”Here I've been working and working, and there you sit, you bad boy-what are you drawing?”

Here her curiosity got the better of her annoyance, and she peered over his shoulder. The hasty sketch, which had been executed with a skill that Aunt Gertrude could not fully appreciate, showed a woman with her arms in a basin of dough-Aunt Gertrude herself, in fact. In arrangement, and in the freedom and vigor of every line, the rough picture gave evidence of really exceptional talent. Aunt Gertrude tried to look like a connoisseur.

”Now, that is very clever. Where did you learn to make pictures?”

Paul shrugged his shoulders.

”I don't know.”

Then Aunt Gertrude, suddenly remembering the business in hand, put on a severe expression.

”That is all very well; but what have you learned to-day from me?

Nothing! I have wasted my time! Oh, you are-”

”There, Aunt Gertrude,-I know all about those old cakes. Please just let me-”

”Old cakes, indeed!”

”Beautiful, wo-onderful cakes, then. Please just let me finish this, like a nice good aunt. And then, I'll tell you what-I'll finish it in colors, and I'll give it to you. You haven't any idea how lovely you are to draw, Aunt Gertrude-you're so nice and round.”

Aunt Gertrude tried not to simper; she was as susceptible to flattery as a girl of sixteen, and found it impossible to resist even when she knew perfectly that she was being cozened.

”What nonsense!” But nonetheless she resumed her position at the bowl of dough again, and Paul chatted artfully, to distract her thoughts from his lesson in cooking, while he hastily completed the sketch.

From that afternoon on, there was no longer the slightest shadow of constraint between aunt and nephew. But Paul was very slow to drop his aloof curt manner with the rest of the family, and except for Mrs.

Lambert and Granny none of them had penetrated his sh.e.l.l.

Carl had by no means lost his dislike of his cousin, and indeed he was not entirely to blame. To begin with he inspired Paul with an uncontrollable desire to annoy him, and when he felt like it, Paul had a perfect genius for irritating people. He had found all the joints in Carl's armour, and he took a thoroughly infuriating delight in probing him in every unguarded spot. Every now and again, Carl would adopt a peculiar, affected accent in his speech, and would use very grand language; then Paul would mimic him perfectly gravely, until Carl was fairly writhing with suppressed rage. Again, Carl was rather given to boasting about himself in an indirect way, and Paul would promptly cap these little bursts of vanity with some outrageous story about _himself_, making himself out the hero of some high-flown adventure, and modestly describing his own feats of strength until Carl, who could not decide whether his cousin was serious or slyly making fun of him, came at length to the opinion that Paul was the most insufferable braggart that ever lived. He was particularly vulnerable on this point, because he had, secretly, a great admiration of physical strength and courage, and Paul's superiority to him in these qualities had much to do with his dislike.

As the weeks went on, the twins were next to lose their timidity with their strange cousin. He teased them fearfully, and tweaked their yellow pig-tails, and told them they looked like a pair of little b.u.t.ter b.a.l.l.s; but on Sat.u.r.day nights, while Elise read ”Ivanhoe” aloud, and the family gathered around the big fireplace in the dining room, he used to make them the most wonderful paper dolls, beautifully drawn and colored, and in the greatest variety; mediaeval ladies and knights, brigands, Italian and Rumanian peasants, and hosts of comic ones; until Minie and Lottie finally came to regard him as quite the most enchanting and remarkable member of the family.

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