"I wonder if there are any I have not told you," Mrs. Orban said thoughtfully.
"There must be hundreds," Eustace said. "I always think Maze Court must have stories without end."
"We used to think so, I remember," said his mother; "but I suppose that is always the case with a house when one family has possessed and occupied it for so many generations."
"It is a sixteenth-century house, isn't it?" Eustace asked.
"Seventeenth century," was the answer, "built in 1688 by Eustace Chase, a loyal subject of the king. His father lost everything for the cause, and the young man was rewarded for following the Royalist fortunes—or rather misfortunes—soon after the king came to his own again."
Eustace gave a huge sigh.
"I do like belonging to people like that," he said with satisfaction.
There was a long silence.
"Mummie—the story," prompted Eustace at last.
"I was just hunting my memory for one," said his mother. "Did you ever hear how we lost Aunt Dorothy?"