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He was what they call rood-master there." "Whereabouts in Connecticut?" asked George over her shoulder. "Veering Holler was the name. I was there six year with my uncle." "How small the world is!" Sophie cried. "Why, all my mother's people come from Veering Hollow. There must be some there still the Lashmars. Did you ever hear of them?"
They showed her the mug and her face shone. "Oh, now Lady Conant's sent it, it'll be all proper, ma'am, won't it? 'George' of course he'd have to be, but seein' what he is we was hopin' all your people was hopin' it 'ud be 'Lashmar' too, and that'ud just round it out. A very 'andsome mug quite unique, I should imagine. 'Wayte awhyle wayte awhyle. That's true with the Lashmars, I've heard.
"I want to see if any more Lashmars are buried here," said Sophie. "Not now. This seems to be show day. Come home quickly," he replied. A group of families, the Clokes a little apart, opened to let them through. The men saluted with jerky nods, the women with remnants of a curtsey. Only Iggulden's son, his mother on his arm, lifted his hat as Sophie passed.
I'm going to write to Aunt Sydney about it first. Oh, Lady Conant said something at lunch about their having bought some land from some Lashmars a few years ago. I found it was at the beginning of last century." "What did you say?" "I said, 'Really, how interesting! Like that. I'm not going to push myself forward. I've been hearing about Mr. Sangres's efforts in that direction. And you?
Very slow to fill their houses, they are. Most like Master George won't open 'is nursery till he's thirty." "Poor lamb!" cried Sophie. "But how did you know my folk were Lashmars?" Mrs. Cloke thought deeply. "I'm sure I can't quite say, ma'am, but I've a belief likely that it was something you may have let drop to young Iggulden when you was at Rocketts. That may have been what give us an inkling.
"Well, I'm " "Don't swear," said Sophie. "Bad for the infant mind." "But how in the world did she get at it? Have you ever said a word about the Lashmars?" "You know the only time to young Iggulden at Rocketts when Iggulden died." "Your great-grandmother's brother! She's traced the whole connection more than your Aunt Sydney could do. What does she mean about our keeping quiet?"
"I want your hand, please," said Sophie as soon as they were safe among the beech boles and the lawless hollies. "D'you remember the old maid in 'Providence and the Guitar' who heard the Commissary swear, and hardly reckoned herself a maiden lady afterward? Because I'm a relative of hers. Lady Conant is " "Did you find out anything about the Lashmars?" he interrupted. "I didn't ask.
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