George mournfully shook his head. “Oh, dear! How unfortunate! I'm afraid Miss Brump will not suit, Miss Ram. My uncle—extraordinary foible—has a violent objection to brown hair. He will not have it in the house.”
“Unheard of!” Miss Ram snapped. “Unheard of!”
George rubbed together his sweating palms; blundered on. “None the less a fact,” he said impressively. He dropped his voice. “It is a very sad story. He had fifteen brothers—”
“Fifteen!”
“I assure you, yes. All were black-haired except one, who was brown—the first brown-haired child in the history of the house. 'Bantam' they used to call him when they were girls and boys together—'Bantam.'”
“Girls! You said brothers!”
“Ah, yes. Girls as well. Twelve, twelve girls.”
“Twelve girls and fifteen boys!”
“I assure you, yes. A record. As I was saying, the brown-haired child, he took to drink. It is most painful. Died in a madhouse. My uncle, head of the family, reeled beneath the stigma—reeled. Vowed from that day that he would never let a brown-haired person cross his threshold.”
George wiped his streaming face; sat back with a sigh. Miss Brump was buried.