between house and lawn. On the lawn itself a lady and a number of children were busy making a snow-man; and the old gentleman, watching with amusement from the swept gravel, cut for the moment a sympathetic figure enough. Jan had to pass so close that he felt bound to go up and report his return; but no one seemed to see him, which made it awkward. He had been for some moments almost at the rector's elbow, too shy to announce himself in words, when the lady came smiling across the snow.
"Surely this is Jan, papa?" she said, whereupon the rector turned round and exclaimed: "Why, my good fellow, when did you turn up?"
Jan succeeded in explaining that he had just walked up from the station; then there was another awkward interval, in which his grandfather took open stock of him, with quite a different face from that which had beamed upon the children in the snow. The lady made amends with a readier and heartier hand, and a kind smile into the bargain.
"I'm your Aunt Alice," she announced, "and these little people are all your cousins. We've come for Christmas, so you'll have plenty of time to get to know each other."
Clearly there was no time then; the children were already clamouring for their mother's return to the work in hand, and she rejoined them with a meek alacrity that told its tale. Jan did not know whether to go or stay, until the rector relieved him by observing, "If you want anything to eat they'll look after you indoors;" and Jan accepted his dismissal thankfully, though he felt its cold abruptness none the less. But the old man had been curt and chilling to him from the first moment of their first meeting, and throughout these holidays it was to remain
