For a time each seemed lost in thought, or listening to the husband and wife who sat in the front seat quietly talking of the evening’s performances.  Percy recognized some of the names they mentioned as belonging to persons to whom he had been presented at the church.  It gradually dawned upon him that he had spent the evening with the aristocracy of the Blue Mound neighborhood.  Culture, refinement, and poverty were the chief characteristics of the people who had been assembled.

“It need not have been,” he repeated to himself; “surely, it need not have been, “and then he wondered if these were not much sadder words than the oft repeated “it might have been.”

“May I ask where your people came from, Mrs. West?” he questioned.

“Where we came from?” she repeated, “I don’t quite understand.”

“Excuse me,” said Percy, “but in the West it is so common to ask people where they are from.  You know the West is settled with people from all sections of the East, and many from Europe and from Canada, and I thought your ancestors may have moved here from some other state, as from Pennsylvania for example, where my mother’s people once lived.”

“Let me advise you, Young Man,” said the grandmother briskly, and in a tone that reminded Percy of the twinkle he had at times noticed in her eyes when she seemed young again—­“Let me advise you never to ask a Virginian if he was born in Pennsylvania.  That’s more than most Virginians can stand.  Once a Virginian, always a Virginian,—­both now, hereafter, and hitherto.  It’s mighty hard to find a Virginian who came from anywhere except from the royal blood of England; although some may condescend to acknowledge kinship to the Scottish royalty.”

The grandmother’s voice was raised to a pitch which commanded the attention of the other members in the carriage and a hearty laugh followed her jovial wit, to the full relief of Percy’s temporary embarrassment.

“Well,” she continued, “to answer your question:  my husband and my children are direct descendants of Colonel Charles West, a brother of Lord Delaware, who was Sir Thomas West, whose ancestry goes back to Henry the Second, of England, and to David the First, of Scotland; and my granddaughter is the great-granddaughter of Patrick Henry.  So now you know where we came from,” and she laughed again like a girl.  “Yes,” she added, “we have a family tree six feet from branch to branch, but it is stored in a back room where I am sure it is covered with cobwebs, for we have no time to live with the past when the summer boarders are here.”

As the carriage stopped at the side gate, the children’s voices could be heard in the rear; for Mr. West had been living over again his younger days with his sweet-faced wife, and the farm team had taken its own time.

CHAPTER VII

A BIT OF HISTORY

“Now, I shall be at home to-day and glad to assist you in any way possible,” announced Mr. West at the breakfast table.