"My great-aunt had kittens," he said, softly.
The tremendous scientific importance of these experiences excited me beyond measure. The simplicity of the narrative, the elaborate attention to corroborative detail, all bore irresistible testimony to the truth of these accounts of phenomena vitally important to the entire world of science.
We all dined together that night—a little earnest company of knowledge-seekers in the vast wilderness of the unexplored; and we lingered long in the dining-car, propounding questions, advancing theories, speculating upon possibilities of most intense interest. Never before had I known a man whose relatives were cats and kittens, but he did not appear to share my enthusiasm in the matter.
"You see," he said, looking at Miss Barrison, "it may be interesting from a purely scientific point of view, but it has already proved a bar to my marrying."
"Were the kittens black?" I inquired.
"No," he said, "my aunt drew the color-line, I am proud to say."
"I don't see," said Miss Barrison, "why the fact that your great-aunt is a cat should prevent you from marrying."
"It wouldn't prevent me!" said the young man, quickly.
"Nor me," mused Miss Barrison—"if I were really in love."