n. She rose and went to the table and opened a
leather-bound book that lay there.

"I have brought down some papers and letters that belonged to your
grandfather--when he was a young man. Here is a picture of him. Come
and see it, my dear."

Unwillingly Nancy crossed to the table. Miss Sabrina reverently placed
the faded picture in her hand.

"My only brother," she whispered, brokenly. "Your grandfather."

"No, _Anne's_ grandfather," Nancy almost screamed.

She looked at the picture with intent interest. It portrayed a
strikingly handsome young man. She turned the card in her hand.
Across the back had been written the name. "Eugene Standbridge
Leavitt."

Astounded, Nancy cried out: "Why, that--_that is my father's name_!"

CHAPTER XXVI

EUGENE STANDBRIDGE LEAVITT

For a moment Nancy thought she had gone quite crazy! She put her hand
to her head to steady its whirling. This was her grandfather--her own
father's father! She was the real Anne Leavitt!

Aunt Sabrina was fussing over a note-book in which clippings had been
pasted. She thought Nancy's agitation quite excusable; she was
trembling herself.

"That is a family name. The Standbridge comes from our
great-grandmother's side. I knew your father had been called
Eugene--yes, here's what B'lindy cut out of the newspaper." She placed
the open page of the book in Nancy's hands.

She told Nancy how, after the quarrel, her father had ordered her to
destroy everything about the house that might remind anyone of the
disowned son.

"I carried out his wishes. After our mother's death my father and I
had been constant companions. I was terribly angry at my brother for
having brought this grief and shame to my father in his old age.
Now----" she caught her breath sharply.

"But B'lindy was fond of the boy. She packed these letters and the
picture away, and after that, for years, whenever she'd read anything
about him in the papers, or hear a word, she'd enter it in this little
book. I never knew that until years later. See--here's an account of
his wedding. It says he went abroad--he'd always wanted to, even when
he was a young lad. Here it tells that he bought a newspaper. Here's
where it speaks about his son Eugene."

It seemed to Nancy as though the little pages of the book, with their
age-yellow clippings and curious entries, were opening to her a new
side of her father's life. She remembered some stuffed birds in her
father'