"Five years! I've owned it for five generations."
"Are you claiming that it's your family place?"
"It is. Is it yours? Are you my long-lost cousin, by any chance? Welcome to my arms—coat of arms, I mean."
"What would that be?" she inquired mischievously, "a collar-button, fessed—"
"Bending above a tearful maiden rampant. The legend, 'Stand on your own feet; if you don't, somebody else will.'"
"I don't think I can boast any cousin named Daddleskink," she observed. "Anyway, we're not New Yorkers. We came from the West."
"Where the money is made," he commented.
"To the East where it is spent," she concluded.
"Why spend it buying other people's houses?"
"Daddleskink Manor," ruminated the girl, in mocking solemnity. "Shall you restore the ancient glory of the name? By the way, Dr. Alderson's researches don't seem to have brought your clan to light, in the records of the house."