"Now who are you?" he asked. "And why were those people attacking you?"
"They thought I was English," said Fred. "I suppose England must have declared war on Germany, too."
"She has. Aren't you English, then?"
"No, I'm American. My name's Fred Waring. You're a Russian, aren't you?"
"Yes. My name's Boris Suvaroff. This is a summer place my father owns here. He's away. I'm glad of that, because the Germans would have taken him prisoner if he'd been here."
For just a moment neither seemed to catch the other's name. Then the Russian boy spoke.
"Fred Waring—an American?" he said. "I—is it possible? I've got a cousin called Waring in America! My father's first cousin married an American of that name years and years ago."
"She was a Suvaroff—my mother," said Fred, but he spoke stiffly. "Her family here disowned her—"
"Some of them—only some of them," said Boris. "Are you really my cousin? My father wrote to your mother long ago—but he got no answer! He has often told me of her. He was very fond of her! Are you really my cousin?"