"I understand how that first Sanford who went across the water on that adventure which took rare courage in those days," said Phil, "harked back to this scene which was bred in his blood, and how other scenes in other climates became bred in the blood of his grandsons." "It is much as our ancestors saw it, I fancy," Henriette said. "I'm bred into it somewhat, but more into France." "A little into America, too," he suggested. "You have some American blood." She was thoughtful for a moment, then looked up at him brightly. "Perhaps. Why not? Though I've never been to America. There is a walk in the neighbourhood of our chateau at Mervaux which I should like to show you. I'm fonder of it than of this, I confess." "And I've a favourite walk I should like to show you in the Berkshires," he said. "A seventeenth cousin reunion in walks, is that it?" She was smiling at her own suggestion with a confidential nod. "Bully!" "No, you should say ripping in England. Bully is an American vulgarism, Cousin Phil." "Ripping!" They broke out laughing at this, and the best feature of her laughter was the persistent radiance in her eyes. A passing labourer who noted the pair silhouetted against the skyline thought: "Life is sweet to them--youth and good looks." She returned to the subject of walks. "Before we consider the one in the Berkshires," she said, "you're not returning to America without coming to France to see us, are you?" He had carefully allotted every day of his time abroad, which did not include any visit to Mervaux. But when the allotment was made he had not met the seventeenth cousins. "You can be properly at home and watch Helen draw or me paint," she went on. "Helen musses about with charcoals and I with oils. You will see what life is like in the French country. Mother will write inviting you. Will you come?" Her glance was cousinly and insistent. The glance did it. He decided that he would cut out Vienna and go to Mervaux for the second week in August of that year, 1914. CHAPTER IV TOO MUCH ANCESTOR "Helen's temper again!" exclaimed Mrs. Sanford to her husband, after Helen's outburst. "Sometimes I do not wonder that Helen has a temper," said the vicar. "But when a girl is as plain as she is, really it is the one thing she should avoid," persisted his wife. "Yes, I suppose it is bad policy, when Henriette has all the good looks and the money," he replied. Helen had now turned toward them and Phil and Henriette were going through the gateway. Mrs. Sanford drew a deep breath as one will who is about to undertake a duty and means to approach it softly. "Did you give up your idea of becoming a nurse, Helen?" she asked casually. It drew another flash from Helen's eyes, accompanied by a shudder of repugnance.