They will produce somebody like poor Mr.Quentin, who was as sane as you or me, but as a rule in every generation there is one member of the family--or more--who is just a little bit---" and he tapped his forehead.

"Nothing violent, you understand, but just not quite 'wise and world-like,' as the old folk say.

Well, there's a certain old lady, an aunt of Mr.Quentin and his sisters, who has always been about tenpence in the shilling.

Usually she lives at Bournemouth, but one of her crazes is a passion for Huntingtower, and the Kennedys have always humoured her and had her to stay every spring.
When the House was shut up that became impossible, but this year she took such a craving to come back, that Lady Morewood asked me to arrange it.

It had to be kept very quiet, but the poor old thing is perfectly harmless, and just sits and knits with her maid and looks out of the seaward windows.