I was a Gregg, Diane, until I married your uncle--he wasn't really your uncle, but a sort of cousin--and the Greggs, thank heavens! are mild and quiet and never wander about.

Dear me, if a Gregg should take to sleeping by a lake in spring-time under a planting moon, I would be surprised, I would indeed! There was only one in our whole family who ever galloped about to any extent--Uncle Peter Gregg--and you really couldn't blame him.

Bulls were perpetually running into him, and once he fell overboard and a whale chased him to shore.

Isn't it funny?
Strangest thing! But there, Diane, I wonder your poor dear grandfather doesn't turn straight over in his grave--I do indeed.

Many and many a time your poor father tried him sorely--and Carl's mother too." Aunt Agatha sniffed meekly.
"Will you go alone ?" she ventured, wiping her eyes.
"Bless your heart, Aunt Agatha, no!" laughed Diane radiantly.