"I do not think they would have cared to come, even if they were still alive; but they are all gone many years ago—except perhaps a grand-niece, and I do not know what has become of her."
"Why, that's just the thing," wrote Madison. "Suppose we try to find her?"
Again the Patriarch shook his head.
"I am afraid that would be impossible. I do not even know that she is alive. I know only of her birth, and that is twenty years ago."
"Even that is not hopeless," wrote Madison optimistically, and his face as he looked at the Patriarch was seriously thoughtful. "Where was she born?"
"New York," the Patriarch answered.
"And I never half appreciated the old town nor the fulness thereof until I came to Needley!" said Madison plaintively to the toe of his boot, while his hand scrawled the inquiry: "What is her name?"
"Vail," wrote the Patriarch. "That was her father's name. She is my grand-niece on her
mother's side. I do not know what they christened her."
Madison once more, apparently deep in thought, sought refuge at the fireplace, his hands plunged in his pockets, his shoulders drawn a little forward, his back to the Patriarch.