“Are you interested in the subject?” asked Blair.
“I'm afraid not,” she laughed. “It's too bad Dad is so laid up with his lumbago. He'd love to walk you out to Tettenhall and Boscobel, to see his burial mounds.”
“How very interesting!” said Blair. “A kind of private family cemetery?”
“Oh, dear no,” declared Kathleen in amazement. “Antiquities, you know, where the Danes buried themselves.”
“Of course, of course. How I wish I could see them! Are you fond of walking?”
“Yes, when it isn't too muddy. It's been too wet lately to go out with Fred. He loves a good long walk, but he's getting old and his rheumatism bothers him.”
“I dare say he may have inherited that from your father?”
“It's very common among Scotties,” said Kathleen.
“Oh, is your family Scotch?” said Blair, feverishly trying to be polite.
“Our family?” queried Kathleen with a smile. “Heavens, no! I thought you were talking about Fred. You must see him, he's somewhere around.”