But Betty knew better than that.
"I'm going to write some of my post cards," she said. "But I would love to ask you a question before you go. Do you know a man in Washington who keeps a bookshop? His name is Lockwood Hale."
Mr. and Mrs. Hale exchanged glances.
"Know him?" repeated the young man. "Why, I should think we did! He's my great-uncle."
"I'm very anxious to see him to ask about a friend of mine," explained Betty. "Mr. Hale thought he might be able to tell him something of his parents who died when he was a baby. As soon as I heard your name I hoped you could tell me where to find the bookstore."
"Yes, uncle is a wizard on old family records," admitted the nephew. "Sometimes I think that is why he hates to part with a book. He keeps a secondhand bookshop, you know, and he's positively insulting to customers who try to buy any of the books. The old boy is really queer in his head, but there's nothing to be afraid of. He wouldn't hurt a flea, would he, Elinor?"
Mrs. Hale said doubtfully, no, she supposed not.
"Elinor didn't have a very good impression of him," laughed her husband. "We're on our wedding trip, you know,"—he blushed slightly—"and mother made us promise we'd stop in to see the
