"It's holy ground to me," I said.

"Fancy!" she exclaimed.

"At least I think it is," I went on, "though we haven't any proofs
beyond the fact that Fyles has always been a family name with us
back to the Colonial days. I'm named Fyles myself--Fyles ffrench--
and we, like the Castle people--have managed to retain our little
f throughout the ages."

She looked at me so incredulously that I handed her my card.

Mr. Fyles ffrench,

Knickerbocker Club.

She turned it over in her fingers, regarding me at the same time
with flattering curiosity.

"How do you do, kinsman?" she said, holding out her hand. "Welcome
to old England!"

I took her little hand and pressed it.

"I am the daughter of the house," she explained, "and I'm named
Fyles too, though they usually call me Verna."

"And the little f, of course," I said.

"Just like yours," she returned. "There may be some capital F's in