"Enough said—in excuse," replied Martine, while Priscilla added, "I wonder if we shall visit Melville Island before we go. You know that is where they kept the American prisoners during that war. I had a great-grand uncle who was taken prisoner, and I've always remembered that he was at Melville Island, Halifax. My mother has his diary."
"Why, that is interesting," said Amy. "Perhaps it may sound like wishing ill to my forebears, but I'd even be willing to have had a relative or two imprisoned here, just for the sake of having a closer association with Halifax."
"That's a very silly remark, Miss Amy Redmond," cried Fritz, disapprovingly.
"Yes," added Martine; "I might as well wish that some of my French ancestors had been among the exiled Acadians, so that I could take a deeper interest in Clare. Not that I need a deeper interest—but that reminds me," and she turned to her brother. "It's strange, Lucian, that I hadn't thought to tell you before, but I believe I've found some new relations in Nova Scotia; at least, I hope so. Do you know whether we had any Tories in our family?"
"Tories! I should hope not," and Lucian's voice rang with patriotism.
"Oh, they are all dead now, so don't excite yourself. But two things equal to the same thing are sometimes equal to each other. We are certainly cousins of Mrs. Blair's. You'll admit that?"
"Yes, worse luck to it," grumbled Lucian. "She is such a—such a—"
"You mean so conventional," interposed Martine, sedately; "but that's very proper for a Bostonian. Well, Mrs. Blair's name is Audrey Balfour Blair."
"Why not?" asked Lucian.
"Well, we met a girl this summer whose grandmother's name was Audrey Balfour, and what I want to know is—are we related to her?"