As they passed the end of the house, he remembered the words which he had
once used to his sisters, "After seven generations you simply can't keep
them away. It's bred in the bone."

A thrill ran over him as he looked at the little figure by his side.

"If she had only been a boy!" he breathed.

At the end of the drive he stopped.

"You must go back now, dear."

"No," said Mary and tried to pull him on.

For as long as it might take you to count five, Josiah stood there
irresolute, Mary's fingers pulling him one way and the memory of poor
Martha's fate pulling him the other.

"And yet," he thought, "she's bound to see it sometime. Perhaps better
now--before she understands--than later--"

He lifted her and sat her on his arm.

"Now, listen, little woman," he said as they gravely regarded each other.
"This is important. If I take you this morning, will you promise to be a
good girl, and sit in the office, and not go wandering off by yourself?
Will you promise me that?"

This, too, may have been heredity, going back as far as Eve: Still