Just think of him, Jean, with a name like that when he was a little boy, in a braided jacket and those funny high waisted breeches you see in the little painted woodcuts in Cousin Roxy's childhood books." "I didn't pay much attention to what they were saying about him," said Jean, dreamily.

"Is he still alive ?" "He is, but I guess he might as well be dead as far as the rest of the family is concerned.

Cousin Roxy said he'd never married, and he lived with his old maiden lady sister out west somewhere.

Not the real west, either; I mean the interesting west like Saskatchewan and Saskatoon and--and California; you know what I mean, Jean ?" "I didn't even hear where they lived.

I'm afraid I wasn't interested.
Aren't you glad the fire didn't bum the cupola?
I almost wish they could leave the house that lovely weathered brown tone, instead of painting it white with green blinds again.