“No,” put in Dr. Schofield, “the Eugenics Bureau isn’t a human stock farm.”

“I see,” commented Kennedy, who had no such idea, anyhow.  He was always lenient with anyone who had what he often referred to as the “illusion of grandeur.”

“We advise people sometimes regarding the desirability or the undesirability of marriage,” mollified Dr. Crafts.  “This is a sort of clearing house for scientific race investigation and improvement.”

“At any rate,” persisted Kennedy, “after investigation, I understand, you advised in favor of his marriage with Miss Gilman.”

“Yes, Eugenia Gilman seemed to measure well up to the requirements in such a match.  Her branch of the Gilmans has always been of the vigorous, pioneering type, as well as intellectual.  Her father was one of the foremost thinkers in the West; in fact had long held ideas on the betterment of the race.  You see that in the choice of a name for his daughter—­Eugenia.”

“Then there were no recessive traits in her family,” asked Kennedy quickly, “of the same sort that you find in the Athertons?”

“None that we could discover,” answered Dr. Crafts positively.

“No epilepsy, no insanity of any form?”

“No.  Of course, you understand that almost no one is what might be called eugenically perfect.  Strictly speaking, perhaps not over two or three per cent. of the population even approximates that standard.  But it seemed to me that in everything essential in this case, weakness latent in Atherton was mating strength in Eugenia and the same way on her part for an entirely different set of traits.”

“Still,” considered Kennedy, “there might have been something latent in her family germ plasm back of the time through which you could trace it?”

Dr. Crafts shrugged his shoulders.  “There often is, I must admit, something we can’t discover because it lies too far back in the past.”

“And likely to crop out after skipping generations,” put in Maude Schofield.

She evidently did not take the same liberal view in the practical application of the matter expressed by her chief.  I set it down to the ardor of youth in a new cause, which often becomes the saner conservatism of maturity.

“Of course, you found it much easier than usual to get at the true family history of the Athertons,” pursued Kennedy.  “It is an old family and has been prominent for generations.”

“Naturally,” assented Dr. Crafts.

“You know Burroughs Atherton on both lines of descent?” asked Kennedy, changing the subject abruptly.

“Yes, fairly well,” answered Crafts.

“Now, for example,” went on Craig, “how would you advise him to marry?”

I saw at once that he was taking this subterfuge as a way of securing information which might otherwise have been withheld if asked for directly.  Maude Schofield also saw it, I fancied, but this time said nothing.  “They had a grandfather who was a manic depressive on the Atherton side,” said Crafts slowly.  “Now, no attempt has ever been made to breed that defect out of the family.  In the case of Burroughs, it is perhaps a little worse, for the other side of his ancestry is not free from the taint of alcoholism.”