“I think we are. Mother is Aunt Peace’s nephew, isn’t she?”
“Not that anybody knows of. A lady nephew is called a niece in East Lancaster.”
“Oh, well,” replied Lynn, colouring, “you know what I mean. Mother is Aunt Peace’s niece, isn’t she?”
“I hear so. A gentleman for whom I have much respect assures me of it.” The wicked light in her eyes belied her words, and Lynn wished that he had kissed her twice while he had the opportunity.
“It’s the truth,” he said. “And mother’s my mother.”
“Really?”
“So that makes me Aunt Peace’s nephew.”
“Grand-nephew,” corrected Iris, with double meaning.
“Thank you for the compliment. Perhaps I’m a nephew-once-removed.”