Jane Lends A Hand Part 11

Paul hid himself in the bakeshop until he felt reasonably sure that his cousin had gone to bed, and then, boots in hand tiptoed shamefacedly up to the bedroom, and began to undress in the dark. But Carl was not asleep, and after listening to Paul's smothered exclamations as he struggled with wet b.u.t.ton holes and laces, could not resist a polite jibe.

"Oh," came in interested tones from the bed, "where did you go, cousin?"

"For a walk," replied Paul, laconically, and a certain note in his voice warned Carl that it would be wiser not to refer to the delicate subject again.

CHAPTER VI-A REBEL IN THE HOUSE

"You take a tablespoonful of b.u.t.ter, a pound of sugar, half a teaspoonful each of cinnamon and all-spice, a pound of raisins, and a cupful of mola.s.ses," said Aunt Gertrude timidly, reading from the yellowed pages of the century-old book of recipes, in which were traced in brown ink, and in the quaint, tremulous handwriting of old Johann Winkler himself, the secret formulas of the "King of Bakers." Then she closed the book.

"And now, my dear, I have to show you the rest."

Paul submitted to his instructions meekly enough but nevertheless his aunt felt singularly at a loss with this strange pupil on her hands, and she had her own grave doubts as to whether the culinary genius of the Winklers really lay dormant in him at all.

On that bright, windy afternoon, aunt and nephew were closeted in the room off the kitchen, which was called the Mixing Room. It was here that the book of recipes was kept, and here that the bread and cakes were mixed, according to the time-honored tradition of secrecy. No one had the right of entry without Mrs. Lambert's permission, and that permission was never given while she was engaged in preparing her doughs and batters. It was a cheerful little room, snug and warm, lined with the old, well polished cupboards in which the tins of spices and dried fruits and crocks of mysterious, delicious mixtures were kept safely locked. Seated at the table, was plump, rosy, beautiful Aunt Gertrude, full of the importance of her business, but a trifle uncertain of her six-foot disciple, who, shrouded in a great white ap.r.o.n, and with his sleeves rolled up on his muscular, brown arms, stood soberly measuring out flour and sugar with hands that looked better fitted for a lumber camp.

But little by little, as the lessons progressed, Paul became less austere; and as he unbent, Aunt Gertrude regained her natural jollity; until she actually dared to tease him.

"What a frown! You will frighten all my customers away," she said, gaily, peeping up into his swarthy face. "You must practice how to look very cheerful."

"Must I? Well, how is this?" And Paul promptly expanded his mouth into the empty grin of a comic mask. "Only I can't remember to grin while I count out spoonfuls of cinnamon. It's like trying to pat your head and rub your stomach at the same time."

"In a little while you won't have to think so hard while you are measuring your ingredients. I do it by instinct," said Aunt Gertrude, proudly. And Paul smiled at her air of naive vanity.

"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 advertis.e.m.e.nt."

Aunt Gertrude thought this a huge joke.

"But what will people think when they see you, my dear? We'll have to get you fatter, too. Then people will say, 'Do you see that fine, stout, rosy, cheerful man? Well, once he was as thin as a poker. Winkler's Pastry gave him that lovely figure.'"

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.