With embarrassed shyness he leaned forward while she put her arms about his neck and kissed him on the cheek. As he straightened again he became aware that the big man had entered the room and was regarding him intently beneath a pair of shaggy gray eyebrows. Mrs. Snow turned.
“Oh, Zelotes,” she cried, “he's got Janie's mouth, don't you think so? And he DOES look like her, doesn't he?”
Her husband shook his head. “Maybe so, Mother,” he said, with a half smile. “I ain't a great hand for locatin' who folks look like. How are you, boy? Glad to see you. I'm your grandfather, you know.”
They shook hands, while each inspected and made a mental estimate of the other. Albert saw a square, bearded jaw, a firm mouth, gray eyes with many wrinkles at the corners, and a shock of thick gray hair. The eyes had a way of looking straight at you, through you, as if reading your thoughts, divining your motives and making a general appraisal of you and them.
Captain Zelotes Snow, for his part, saw a tall young fellow, slim and straight, with black curly hair, large black eyes and regular features. A good-looking boy, a handsome boy--almost too handsome, perhaps, or with just a touch of the effeminate in the good looks. The captain's glance took in the well-fitting suit of clothes, the expensive tie, the gold watch chain.
“Humph!” grunted Captain Zelotes. “Well, your grandma and I are glad to have you with us. Let me see, Albert--that's your right name, ain't it--Albert?”
Something in his grandfather's looks or tone aroused a curious feeling in the youth. It was not a feeling of antagonism, exactly, but more of defiance, of obstinacy. He felt as if this big man, regarding him so keenly from under the heavy brows, was looking for faults, was expecting to find something wrong, might almost be disappointed if he did not find it. He met the gaze for a moment, the color rising to his cheeks.
“My name,” he said deliberately, “is Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza.”
Mrs. Snow uttered a little exclamation. “Oh!” she ejaculated. And then added: “Why--why, I thought--we--we understood 'twas 'Albert.' We didn't know there was--we didn't know there was any more to it. What did you say it was?”
Her grandson squared his shoulders. “Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza,” he repeated. “My father”--there was pride in his voice now--“my father's name was Miguel Carlos. Of course you knew that.”