"She has. Aren't you English, then?"

"No, I'm American. My name's Fred Waring. You're a Russian, aren't you?"

"Yes. My name's Boris Suvaroff. This is a summer place my father owns
here. He's away. I'm glad of that, because the Germans would have taken
him prisoner if he'd been here."

For just a moment neither seemed to catch the other's name. Then the
Russian boy spoke.

"Fred Waring--an American?" he said. "I--is it possible? I've got a
cousin called Waring in America! My father's first cousin married an
American of that name years and years ago."

"She was a Suvaroff--my mother," said Fred, but he spoke stiffly. "Her
family here disowned her--"

"Some of them--only some of them," said Boris. "Are you really my
cousin? My father wrote to your mother long ago--but he got no answer!
He has often told me of her. He was very fond of her! Are you really my
cousin?"

"I guess I am!" said Fred. "I'm glad to know that some of you will own
me! My uncle Mikail had me arrested when I went to see him in
Petersburg!"

And then while they learned about one another, the two of them forgot
the war and the danger in which they stood.