was in the county that Mother's people had come from; Quincy was
a very unusual name, and the original Quincy had been a Charles,
which certainly was one of Mother's family names. Margaret and
Julie, browsing about among the colonial histories and genealogies
of the Weston Public Library years before, had come to a jubilant
certainty that mother's grandfather must have been the same man.
But she did not feel quite so positive now.

"Your people aren't still in the South, you said?"

"Oh, no!" Margaret cleared her throat. "They're in Weston--Weston,
New York."

"Weston! Not near Dayton?"

"Why, yes! Do you know Dayton?"

"Do I know Dayton?" He was like an eager child. "Why, my Aunt Pamela
lives there; the only mother I ever knew! I knew Weston, too, a
little. Lovely homes there, some of them,--old colonial houses. And
your mother lives there? Is she fond of flowers?"

"She loves them," Margaret said, vaguely uncomfortable.

"Well, she must know Aunt Pamela," said John Tenison,
enthusiastically. "I expect they'd be great friends. And you must know
Aunt Pam. She's like a dainty old piece of china, or a--I don't know,
a tea rose! She's never married, and she lives in the most charming
brick house, with brick walls and hollyhocks all about it, and such an
atmosphere inside! She has an old maid and an old gardener, and--don't