"It's a true copy of the family arms. Everybody has got to having arms now-a-days. (She points to the indescribable scrawl over the mantelpiece.) It was got through Herald King, of London, who they say keeps her Majesty's slippers and the great seal of State. We were very exact, you see. Yes, sir--we were very exact. Our vulgar people, you see--I mean such as have got up by trade, and that sort of thing--went to a vast expense in sending to England a man of great learning and much aforethought, to ransack heraldry court and trace out their families. Well, he went, lived very expensively, spent several years abroad, and being very clever in his way, returned, bringing them all pedigrees of the very best kind. With only two exceptions, he traced them all down into noble blood. These two, the cunning fellow had it, came of martyrs. And to have come of the blood of martyrs, when all the others, as was shown, came of noble blood, so displeased--the most ingenious (the old lady shakes her head regrettingly) can't please everybody--the living members of these families, that they refused to pay the poor man for his researches, so he was forced to resort to a suit at law. And to this day (I don't say it disparagingly of them!) both families stubbornly refuse to accept the pedigree. They are both rich grocers, you see! and on this account we were very particular about ours." The young man thought it well not to interrupt the old woman's display of weakness, inasmuch as it might produce a favorable change in her feelings. "And now, young man, what mission have you besides love?" she inquires, adding an encouraging look through her spectacles. "I am come to intercede--" "You needn't talk of interceding with me; no you needn't! I've nothing to intercede about"--she twitches her head spitefully. "In behalf of your son." "There--there! I knew there was some mischief. You're a Catholic! I knew it. Never saw one of your black-coated flock about that there wasn't mischief brewing--never! I can't read my Milton in peace for you--" "But your son is in prison, Madam, among criminals, and subject to the influence of their habits--" "Precisely where I put him--where he won't disgrace the family; yes, where he ought to be, and where he shall rot, for all me. Now, go your way, young man; and read your Bible at home, and keep out of prisons; and don't be trying to make Jesuits of hardened scamps like that Tom of mine." "I am a Christian: I would like to extend a Christian's hand to your son. I may replace him on the holy pedestal he has fallen from--" "You are very aggravating, young man. Do you live in South Carolina?" The young man says he does. He is proud of the State that can boast so many excellent families. "I am glad of that," she says, looking querulously over her spectacles, as she twitches her chin, and increases the velocity of her rocking. "I wonder how folks can live out of it."