"I never heard that"—said I—"but that seems handsome."
"Yes; your ancestor sold apples in the camp. A fact, I assure you. It all comes upon me now. Real Normandy pippins. They show a tree at Battle—this your father told me as a secret; but as man and wife are one, why it's only one half talking to the other half—a tree at Battle grown from your ancestor's apple-pips. Something like a family tree, that."
"I don't believe a word of it," said I.
"You must. Bless you"—said Fred—"arms come by faith, or how many of the best of people would be without 'em. There's something innocent in the pippin: besides it would paint well. And with my arms"—
"Yes;" I cried; "and what are they, Fred?"
"Well, it's odd: we were—it's plain—made for one another. I came from Normandy too."
"You did?" and I was pleased.
"Yes," said he. "I wonder what terms our families were on a thousand years ago? To be sure, I came to England later than you; and I can't exactly say who I came with: but then—for I'm sure I can trust my grandmother—my descent is very historical. I assure you that your family pippin will harmonize with my bearings beautifully."
"We'll have the hall-chairs painted," said I, and I felt quite pleased.