“No; I haven’t those brows.”
“Well, you’re not entitled to them, having no Truesdell blood in your veins.”
“But that girl has.”
“Indeed! Interesting, is it not?”
“Aw, come off that line o’ talk, F. S.,” said Fibsy, knitting his brows, which were not Truesdellian. “I’m seein’ a chink o’ light. The brother of your grandfather, now, Mr. Trask, he was named—?”
“Waring, of course. Henry Waring. My grandfather was James Waring.”
“And this Henry Waring—he was the father of Doctor John Waring?”
As Fibsy said this, Stone sat upright, and gazed hard at Trask.
“Yes, John Waring’s father was Henry, and my grandfather was Henry’s brother James. That’s how I’m related. And being the only one, that’s why I’m the heir here. But, don’t you see, Doctor Waring’s mother was a Truesdell—”
“And Miss Austin is a relative of hers—a connection of the Truesdell family somehow—” exclaimed the now excited Fibsy, “and she found out about it, and came here and—”