“Yes, madam, Virginia is my native state,” returned Mrs. Graham, clipping off each word as if it were burning her tongue.
“Anywheres near Richmond?” continued Mrs. Nichols.
“I was born in Richmond, madam.”
“Law, now I who knows but you’re well acquainted with Nancy Scovandyke’s kin.”
Mrs. Graham turned as red as the cranberry sauce upon her plate, as she replied, “I’ve not the honor of knowing either Miss Scovandyke or any of her relatives.”
“Wall, she’s a smart, likely gal, or woman I s’pose you’d call her, bein’ she’s just the age of my son.”
Here Mrs. Nichols, suddenly remembering ’Lena’s charge, stopped, but John Jr., who loved to see the fun go on, started her again, by asking what relatives Miss Scovandyke had in Virginia.
“’Leny told me not to mention Nancy, but bein’ you’ve asked a civil question, ’tain’t more’n fair for me to answer it. Better’n forty year ago Nancy’s mother’s aunt——”
“Which would be Miss Nancy’s great-aunt,” interrupted John Jr.
“Bless the boy,” returned the old lady, “he’s got the Nichols’ head for figgerin’. Yes, Nancy’s great-aunt though she was six years and two months younger’n Nancy’s mother. Wall, as I was sayin’, she went off to Virginny to teach music. She was prouder’n Lucifer, and after a spell she married a southerner, rich as a Jew, and then she never took no more notice of her folks to hum, than’s ef they hadn’t been. But the poor critter didn’t live long to enjoy it, for when her first baby was born, she died. ’Twas a little girl, but her folks in Massachusetts have never heard a word whether she’s dead or alive. Joel Slocum, that’s Nancy’s nephew, says he means to go down there some day, and look her up, but I wouldn’t bother with ’em, for that side of the house always did feel big, and above Nancy’s folks, thinkin’ Nancy’s mother married beneath her.”