A long pause followed; deep emotion was visible in Miss Barrison's sensitive face. She said: "Then--you are married?" "No," replied Mr. Kensett, in a mortified voice. "Why not?" I asked, amazed. "Because," he said, "although my fiancee was prepared to accept a cat as her great-aunt, she could not endure the complications that followed." "What complications?" inquired Miss Barrison. The young man sighed profoundly, shaking his head. "My great-aunt had kittens," he said, softly. * * * * * The tremendous scientific importance of these experiences excited me beyond measure. The simplicity of the narrative, the elaborate attention to corroborative detail, all bore irresistible testimony to the truth of these accounts of phenomena vitally important to the entire world of science. We all dined together that night--a little earnest company of knowledge-seekers in the vast wilderness of the unexplored; and we lingered long in the dining-car, propounding questions, advancing theories, speculating upon possibilities of most intense interest. Never before had I known a man whose relatives were cats and kittens, but he did not appear to share my enthusiasm in the matter. "You see," he said, looking at Miss Barrison, "it may be interesting from a purely scientific point of view, but it has already proved a bar to my marrying." "Were the kittens black?" I inquired. "No," he said, "my aunt drew the color-line, I am proud to say." "I don't see," said Miss Barrison, "why the fact that your great-aunt is a cat should prevent you from marrying." "It wouldn't prevent _me_!" said the young man, quickly. "Nor me," mused Miss Barrison--"if I were really in love." Meanwhile I had been very busy thinking about Professor Farrago, and, coming to an interesting theory, advanced it. "If," I began, "he marries one of those transparent ladies, what about the children?" "Some would be, no doubt, transparent," said Kensett. "They might be only translucent," suggested Miss Barrison. "Or partially opaque," I ventured. "But it's a risky marriage--not to be able to see what one's wife is about--" "That is a silly reflection on women," said Miss Barrison, quietly. "Besides, a girl need not be transparent to conceal what she's doing." This observation seemed to end our postprandial and tripartite conference; Miss Barrison retired to her stateroom presently; after a last cigar, smoked almost in silence, the young man and I bade each other a civil good-night and retired to our respective berths. I think it was at Richmond, Virginia, that I was awakened by the negro porter shaking me very gently and repeating, in a pleasant, monotonous voice: "Teleg'am foh you, suh! Teleg'am foh Mistuh Gilland, suh. 'Done call you 'lev'm times sense breakfass, suh! Las' call foh luncheon, suh. Teleg'am foh--"