"Yes, of course, dear stupid. Balfour Airton; that's the nice boy we met at Annapolis. Mr. Knight's friend, you know, the one we've talked about."
"Oh, yes, of course; do you mean to ask if he is in our family? Strange I never heard of it."
"There, listen, Lucian; this is what I mean. Mrs. Blair is mother's cousin, and her name, you know, is Audrey Balfour Blair."
"Has she a first name, and one so frivolous as 'Audrey'? How did that happen?"
"That's just what I wish to know. I thought that perhaps you would remember whether her name was Balfour before her marriage."
For a few minutes Lucian seemed lost in reflection, then looking up he exclaimed,—
"Yes, Martine, I am sure; Mrs. Blair's name was not 'Balfour,' it was 'Tuck.' I once met a brother of hers. He was visiting Chicago. But, I'll tell you what—I am pretty sure that her grandmother was a Balfour. That's where the relationship to mamma comes in. You know that her grandmother was a Balfour, and that's what makes them cousins; their grandmothers were sisters."
"Why, Lucian," cried Martine, jumping to her feet in her excitement, "that's just what I wanted to know. I don't care anything about Mrs. Blair's grandmother, but if there's a Balfour in mamma's family, don't you see how splendid it would be?"
"Can't say that I do," responded Lucian; "but if it pleases you, it's probably all right." Lucian had often said confidentially to his friends that the ways of girls were past finding out, and he did not except his sister from the general rule.
"Oh, but can't you see, Lucian, that if I could prove that Balfour Airton is a cousin to Mrs. Blair, and if mamma is a cousin of Mrs. Blair's, which—"