"We have a disappearance story in our family, too," said Helen. "I'd forgotten it. It's nearer than yours; it's our own aunt. Don't you remember, Roger? Mother told us about it, once."
"That's so; so we have. Now that is romantic," asserted Roger.
"Let's hear it and see if it beats ours," said James.
"It was our Aunt Louise, Father's and Uncle Richard's sister. She was older than they. She fell in love with a man her father didn't like."
"Ho," grunted James; "that's why you think your story is romantic—because there's some love in it."
"It does make it more romantic, of course," declared Margaret, going over to the other side.
"He was a musician and Grandfather Morton didn't think music was a man's business. People used to be funny about things like that you know."
"That was because musicians and painters used to go round with long hair looking like jays." So James summed up the causes of the previous generation's dislike of the masters of the arts.
"I don't know whether Aunt Louise's musician was long on hair or not, but he was short on cash all right," Roger took up the story. "Grandfather said he couldn't support a wife and Aunt Louise said she'd take the chance, and so they ran away."
"She had more sand than sense, seems to me—if you'll excuse my commenting on your aunt," said James.