"What did I prophesy?" cried Miss Virginia. "Only one season out, and already—! Such a beautiful name too,—'Mrs. Archibald Blair.' Not a Kentucky or Virginia one, of course. However, there are other States, Maryland, or South Carolina, or even Massachusetts. Where did you say he was from, precious girl?"
"Louisville."
The sisters exchanged startled glances. "Louisville? But that's impossible. We do not know his people!"
"He hasn't any people."
It was Miss Euphemia who recovered herself first. "So much the better," she murmured. "I mean—Not that one would wish them to have died, of course! But really, you know, in-laws—"
"And so often I think a self-made man—" Miss Iphigenia took up the parable. "So many of our Southern families seem to run largely to girls nowadays. What I mean is, a little good red blood—"
"Sister!" murmured two shocked voices. Everybody blushed.
"I'm afraid Archie isn't even a self-made man, yet," smiled Joan, mentally struggling to fill in the gaps. "I shall have to help make him."
"Ah, yes! A woman's touch, as dear papa used to say—"
Joan reflected that the late Mr. Darcy must have known a good deal about the power of a woman's touch....