She turned it over in her fingers, regarding me at the same time with flattering curiosity.
"How do you do, kinsman?" she said, holding out her hand. "Welcome to old England!"
I took her little hand and pressed it.
"I am the daughter of the house," she explained, "and I'm named
Fyles too, though they usually call me Verna."
"And the little f, of course," I said.
"Just like yours," she returned. "There may be some capital F's in the family, but we wouldn't acknowledge them!"
"What a fellow-feeling that gives one!" I said. "At school, at college, in business, in the war with Spain when I served on the Dixie, my life has been one long struggle to preserve that little f against a capital F world. I remember saying that to a chum the day we sank Cervera, 'If I am killed, Bill,' I said, 'see that they don't capital F me on the scroll of fame!'"
"A true ffrench!" exclaimed Beauty with approval.
"As true as yourself," I said.
"Do you know that I'm the last of them?" she said.