A COMPOSITE FAMILY 265 



The photograph was of a girl of perhaps eigh- 

 teen, with a strong, oval face, black hair and eyes, 

 speaking of Spanish blood, and nostrils that curved 

 like those of a spirited horse. I gained time by 

 looking at it a moment, and then faced Time o' 

 Year, who was gazing at me with a pitifully sad, 

 hunted expression in his gray eyes. 



"I don't mind that she 's a Romanist the 

 woods has driv' such distinguishin' feelin' out o' 

 me but why need he have made out things to her 

 so differint, so much better 'n they be that they '11 

 give him the lie after he 's gone, even if I say 

 nothing," he whispered, half to me and half to the 

 river. "We never had family silver except six 

 teaspoons and the little tea-caddy that came from 

 Lois' grandaunt. The Bible never had clasps, and 

 it was hers and I can't give it; there 's no oil por- 

 trait. My grandfather never was a general, jist a 

 plain soldier. He did fight with Putnam, though, 

 and fit good too, and so did her great-grandfather." 



"Send her the record of two fighting ancestors, 

 to make up for the lack of one general," I said, the 

 pathos of it all dimming my eyes. "Have the papers 

 made out and I will have them copied on a piece 

 of parchment with a border of wood flowers. Then 

 you can make a frame for them yourself from 



