She seemed to grow suddenly in stature.
"Then," she said, "you have disgraced the house of Marshall. You have brought under my roof, in disguise, the son of an enemy. A Stearns! You have done this thing with the deliberate purpose of deceiving me. Had I known, had I even suspected, that you had ever associated with such a person, I should have disowned you, William Marshall."
"But his name is Pete, all right, Aunt Caroline. And you never asked me for his last name."
"You would have lied if I had," she said, in a voice that trembled despite its sternness. "You did all this knowing full well my opinion of the Stearns family. Eliphalet Stearns! He was your grandfather's worst enemy. Grosvenor Stearns! Your father and Grosvenor Stearns never spoke to each other from the days when they were boys. And now—now it remains for you to bring into my house another generation of a people who are beneath the notice or the contempt of a true Marshall. It is unspeakable!"
And yet she found herself able to speak with much freedom on the matter.
"Oh, what's the use of all this medieval history?" demanded Bill. "Just because my grandfather and old man Stearns had a blow-up, I don't see why I've got to go on hating the family for the rest of my days. That old row isn't any of my funeral, Aunt Caroline."
"Have you no regard for your family honor and pride, William Marshall? Have you no loyalty to the memory of your ancestors? Have you no thought of me? Must you insult the living as well as the dead?"
"I should think," grumbled Bill, "that if you believed in theology you'd go in for that business of forgiving your enemies."
"But not a Stearns," she said vehemently. "And as for believing in theology—oh, how can I believe in anything after this?"