"
"Then you are a Kentuckian and a Virginian, too. I knew it! You have a
middle name, haven't you?"
"Yes."
"Will you tell me what it is?"
"Cary."
The girl laughed.
"Harry Cary Kenton. Why Cary is one of our best old Virginia names.
Will you tell me too what was your mother's name before she was married?"
"Parham."
"Another. Oh, all this unravels finely. And what was your grandmother's
name?"
"Brent."
"Nothing could be more Virginian than Brent. Oh, you're one of us,
Lieutenant Kenton, a real Virginian of the true blood."
"And heart and soul too!" giving her one of his finest young military
glances.
She laughed. It was only quick friendship between them and no more,
and a half-hour later he was dancing with another Virginia girl, not
so blonde, but just as handsome, and their talk was quite as friendly.
Her name was Lockridge, and as they sat down near the musicians to rest,
and listen a while, Harry saw a figure, slender and black-robed, pass.
He knew at once who she was, and it had been predicted that he might meet
her there, but she had stirred his curiosity a little, and thinking he
might obtain further information he asked Miss Lockridge:
"Who is the woman who just passed us?"
"That's Miss Carden, Miss Henrietta Carden, a sewing woman, very capable
too, who always helps at the big balls.
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