"Well--_Mrs. North_!" he said; and then they both laughed, and she began to ask questions: Who was dead? Who had so and so married? "There are not many of us left," she said. "The two Ferris girls and Theophilus Morrison and Johnny Gordon--he came to see me yesterday. And Matty Dilworth; she was younger than I--oh, by ten years. She married the oldest Barkley boy, didn't she? I hear he didn't turn out well. You married his sister, didn't you? Was it the oldest girl or the second sister?" "It was the second--Jane. Yes, poor Jane. I lost her in 'forty-five." "You have children?" she said, sympathetically. "I've got a boy," he said; "but he's married." "My girl has never married; she's a good daughter,"--Mrs. North broke off with a nervous laugh; "here she is, now!" Mary North, who had suddenly appeared in the doorway, gave a questioning sniff, and the Captain's hand sought his guilty pocket; but Miss North only said: "How do you do, sir? Now, mother, don't talk too much and get tired." She stopped and tried to smile, but the painful color came into her face. "And--if you please, Captain Price, will you speak in a low tone? Large, noisy persons exhaust the oxygen in the air, and--" "_Mary!_" cried poor Mrs. North; but the Captain, clutching his old felt hat, began to hoist himself up from the sofa, scattering ashes about as he did so. Mary North compressed her lips. "I tell my daughter-in-law they'll keep the moths away," the old gentleman said, sheepishly. "I use camphor," said Miss North, "Flora must bring a dust-pan." "Flora?" Alfred Price said. "Now, what's my association with that name?" "She was our old cook," Mrs. North explained; "this Flora is her daughter. But you never saw old Flora?" "Why, yes, I did," the old man said, slowly. "Yes. I remember Flora. Well, good-bye,--Mrs. North." "Good-bye, Alfred. Come again," she said, cheerfully. "Mother, here's your beef tea," said a brief voice.