"That depends, my dear boy, on the 'strain' you are hunting. If the first hatching of brown skins in that 'primeval nidus' of your dreams had only been as wise and prudent as modern cattle and horse raisers, and fixed rules of pure-blooded pedigree, we might not fear to grope backward lest we find only 'grades' in our family group. Now, climbing a genuine, decent, civilized ancestral tree is much better sport than twisting up slippery totem poles with a coyote, or a coon, or a vulture perched on top, as head of the family." "And, pray, what of the sacred menagerie of heraldry? The quadrupeds, birds, flowers of armorial blazonry--all that makes heraldic pomp picturesque--are but survivals of primeval totem symbols throughout the world. Auntie Dove, your book-plate and your family seal bear a leopard couchant, very dear to your orthodox, patrician heart, and some day your hereditary pet beast may have glared down upon a Tlinkit teepee." "Marriage is the only cure for Herriott, and it would effectually tether him," said Mr. Hull, keeping his eyes on Eglah. "It appears that you have carefully avoided taking your own prescription," answered his host. "It is by no means my fault. Though futile, my efforts have been heroic." Professor Cleveden leaned forward. "You good people do not understand how deeply Herriott is imbued with the conviction that contemporary 'differentiation' is not a synonym for desirable advancement. The complex, hybridized, neurotic creature he meets in society does not always impress him as vastly superior to the primeval female type, and you may all expect that whenever matrimonial shackles restrict his pasturage, which will not be _in Wyandot lines_, he will be hobbled by 'some savage woman' whose accomplishments are limited to the slim schedule set down by that jilted cynic of 'Locksley Hall.' The 'new woman' incites us to pray fervently for swift reversion to type. Now, Miss Manning, I am sure you are preparing to tell me that----" "That of course in such matters tastes differ, and not one of us feels disposed to deprive Professor Cleveden of his coveted female simian companion; but, as Noel never has had a flirtatious 'Cousin Amy' to rub him the wrong way, he has no provocation to present to me a squaw as my great niece." "It is very evident the professor viciously remembers his own 'Amy,'" said Miss Roberts, who was watching keenly for some manifestation of consciousness in Noel and Eglah.