"I've had my suspicions at times," returned Miss Ri. "Come in, but don't talk loud, so as to waken Linda; the child needs all the sleep she can get. Now, go on; tell me what you want." "I want you to tell me exactly who Linda's forbears were; that is, on the Talbot side. Her father was James, I know." "Yes, and his father was Martin. He had a brother, but he died early; there were only the two sons, but there was a daughter, I believe." "And their father was?" "Let me see--Monroe? No, Madison; that's it, Madison Talbot, and his father was James again. I can't give you the collaterals so far back." "Humph! Well, I reckon that will do." "What in the world are you up to? Are you making a family tree for Linda?" "No; but I have some curiosity upon the subject of old titles, and as it may come in my way, I thought I would look up Talbot's Angles." "There's no use in doing that. Linda has the original land grant in her possession. Poor child, she clings to that, and I am glad she can. I wish to goodness you'd marry Grace, Berk Matthews, so Verlinda could get her rights." "I'd do a good deal for a pretty girl, but I couldn't bring myself up to the scratch of marrying Grace Talbot. Now, if it were Linda herself, that might be a different matter." "You'd get a treasure," avowed Miss Ri, shaking her head wisely. "She doesn't have to air her family silver in order to make people forget her mistakes in English." "True, O wisest of women." "There's another way out of it, Berk; the place reverts to Verlinda in the event of Grace's death." "Do you mean I shall poison her or use a dagger, Lady Macbeth?" "You great goose, of course I don't mean either such horrible thing. I was only letting my thoughts run on the possibilities of the case. I'm not quite so degenerate as to wish for anyone's death, but I haven't found out yet why you were looking into the family procession of names." "Oh, just a mere matter of legal curiosity, as I said. I come across them once in a while, and I wanted to get them straight in my mind. James, son of Martin, son of Madison, son of James; that's it, isn't it?" He checked them off on his fingers. "That's it." "Well, good-night, Miss Ri. I won't keep you any longer from that fascinating book at which you've been casting stealthy glances ever since I came in. Don't get up; I can let myself out." Miss Ri did not immediately return to the book. "Now, what is he driving at?" she said to herself. "It's all poppycock about his interest in the names because he wants to get them straight in his mind. He's not so interested in Verlinda as all that, worse luck. I wish he were." She gave a little sigh and, adjusting her glasses, returned to the page before her. CHAPTER VIII A DISCLOSURE "The old horse is neighing again," said Miss Ri, whimsically, one morning a little later. "I must go to town, Verlinda."