least! We might do something that way, but I'm rather doubtful.' 'We could list all the Evanses and visit the likely ones.' 'And ask them - what?' 'That's the difficulty,' said Frankie.
'We need to know a little more,' said Bobby. 'Then that idea of yours might come in useful. What's No. 3?' 'This man Bassington-ffrench. There we have got something tangible to go upon. It's an uncommon name. I'll ask Father. He knows all these county family names and their various branches.' 'Yes;' said Bobby. 'We might do something that way.' 'At any rate, we are going to do something?' 'Of course we are. Do you think I'm going to be given eight grains of morphia and do nothing about it?' 'That's the spirit,' said Frankie.
'And besides that,' said Bobby, 'there's the indignity of the stomach pump to be washed out.' 'That's enough,' said Frankie. 'You'll be getting morbid and indecent again if I don't stop you.' 'You have no true womanly sympathy,' said Bobby.
Why Didnt They Ask Evans
CHAPTER 9 Concerning Mr Bassingtonffrench
Frankie lost no time in setting to work. She attacked her father that same evening.
'Father,' she said, 'do you know any Bassingtonffrenches?' Lord Marchington, who was reading a political article, did not quite take in the question.
'It's not the French so much as the Americans,' he said severely. 'All this tomfoolery and conferences - wasting the nation's time and money -' Frankie abstracted her mind until Lord Marchington, running like a railway train along an accustomed line, came, as it were, to a halt at a station.
'The Bassington-ffrenches,' repeated Frankie.
'What about 'em?' said Lord Marchington.
Frankie didn't know what about them. She made a statement, knowing well enough that her father enjoyed contradiction.
'They're a Yorkshire family, aren't they?' 'Nonsense - Hampshire. There's the Shropshire branch, of course, and then there's the Irish lot. Which are your friends?' 'I'm not sure,' said Frankie, accepting the implication of friendship with several unknown people.
'Not sure? What do you mean? You must be sure.' 'People drift about so nowadays,' said Frankie.
'Drift - drift - that's about all they do. In my days we asked people. Then one knew where one was - fellow said he was the Hampshire branch - very well, your grandmother married my second cousin. It made a link.' 'It must have been too sweet,' said Frankie, 'But there really isn't time for genealogical and geographical research nowadays.' 'No - you've no time nowadays for anything but drinking these poisonous cocktails.' Lord Marchington gave a sudden yelp of pain as he moved his gouty leg, which some free imbibing of the family port had not improved.
'Are they well off?' asked Frankie.
'The Bassington-ffrenches? Couldn't say. The Shropshire lot have been hard hit, I believe - death duties, and one thing or another. One of the Hampshire ones married an heiress. An American woman.' 'One of them was down here the other day,' said Frankie.
'Looking for a house, I believe.' 'Funny idea. What should anyone want with a house down here?' That, thought Frankie, was the question.
On the following day she walked into the office of Messrs.
Wheeler & Owen, House and Estate Agents.
Mr Owen himself sprang up to receive her. Frankie gave him a gracious smile and dropped into a chair.
'And what can we have the pleasure of doing for you. Lady Frances? You don't want to sell the Castle, I suppose. Ha! Ha!' Mr Owen laughed at his own wit.
'I wish we could,' said Frankie. 'No, as a matter of fact, I believe a friend of mine was down here the other day - a Mr Bassington-ffrench. He was looking for a house.' 'Ah! yes, indeed. I remember the name perfectly. Two small if 's.' 'That's right,' said Frankie.
'He was making inquiries about various small properties with a view to purchase. He was obliged to return to town the next day, so could not view many of the houses, but I understand he is in no great hurry. Since he left, one or two suitable
'We need to know a little more,' said Bobby. 'Then that idea of yours might come in useful. What's No. 3?' 'This man Bassington-ffrench. There we have got something tangible to go upon. It's an uncommon name. I'll ask Father. He knows all these county family names and their various branches.' 'Yes;' said Bobby. 'We might do something that way.' 'At any rate, we are going to do something?' 'Of course we are. Do you think I'm going to be given eight grains of morphia and do nothing about it?' 'That's the spirit,' said Frankie.
'And besides that,' said Bobby, 'there's the indignity of the stomach pump to be washed out.' 'That's enough,' said Frankie. 'You'll be getting morbid and indecent again if I don't stop you.' 'You have no true womanly sympathy,' said Bobby.
Why Didnt They Ask Evans
CHAPTER 9 Concerning Mr Bassingtonffrench
Frankie lost no time in setting to work. She attacked her father that same evening.
'Father,' she said, 'do you know any Bassingtonffrenches?' Lord Marchington, who was reading a political article, did not quite take in the question.
'It's not the French so much as the Americans,' he said severely. 'All this tomfoolery and conferences - wasting the nation's time and money -' Frankie abstracted her mind until Lord Marchington, running like a railway train along an accustomed line, came, as it were, to a halt at a station.
'The Bassington-ffrenches,' repeated Frankie.
'What about 'em?' said Lord Marchington.
Frankie didn't know what about them. She made a statement, knowing well enough that her father enjoyed contradiction.
'They're a Yorkshire family, aren't they?' 'Nonsense - Hampshire. There's the Shropshire branch, of course, and then there's the Irish lot. Which are your friends?' 'I'm not sure,' said Frankie, accepting the implication of friendship with several unknown people.
'Not sure? What do you mean? You must be sure.' 'People drift about so nowadays,' said Frankie.
'Drift - drift - that's about all they do. In my days we asked people. Then one knew where one was - fellow said he was the Hampshire branch - very well, your grandmother married my second cousin. It made a link.' 'It must have been too sweet,' said Frankie, 'But there really isn't time for genealogical and geographical research nowadays.' 'No - you've no time nowadays for anything but drinking these poisonous cocktails.' Lord Marchington gave a sudden yelp of pain as he moved his gouty leg, which some free imbibing of the family port had not improved.
'Are they well off?' asked Frankie.
'The Bassington-ffrenches? Couldn't say. The Shropshire lot have been hard hit, I believe - death duties, and one thing or another. One of the Hampshire ones married an heiress. An American woman.' 'One of them was down here the other day,' said Frankie.
'Looking for a house, I believe.' 'Funny idea. What should anyone want with a house down here?' That, thought Frankie, was the question.
On the following day she walked into the office of Messrs.
Wheeler & Owen, House and Estate Agents.
Mr Owen himself sprang up to receive her. Frankie gave him a gracious smile and dropped into a chair.
'And what can we have the pleasure of doing for you. Lady Frances? You don't want to sell the Castle, I suppose. Ha! Ha!' Mr Owen laughed at his own wit.
'I wish we could,' said Frankie. 'No, as a matter of fact, I believe a friend of mine was down here the other day - a Mr Bassington-ffrench. He was looking for a house.' 'Ah! yes, indeed. I remember the name perfectly. Two small if 's.' 'That's right,' said Frankie.
'He was making inquiries about various small properties with a view to purchase. He was obliged to return to town the next day, so could not view many of the houses, but I understand he is in no great hurry. Since he left, one or two suitable
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