From the uttermost parts of the earth they
would come--Penhallows by birth, and Penhallows by marriage
and Penhallows by ancestry. East Grafton was the ancient habitat
of the race, and Penhallow Grange, where "old" John Penhallow lived,
was a Mecca to them.
As for the family itself, the exact kinship of all its various
branches and ramifications was a hard thing to define.
Old Uncle Julius Penhallow was looked upon as a veritable wonder
because he carried it all in his head and could tell on sight just
what relation any one Penhallow was to any other Penhallow. The rest
made a blind guess at it, for the most part, and the younger
Penhallows let it go at loose cousinship.
In this instance it was Alice Penhallow, daughter of "young"
John Penhallow, who was to be married. Alice was a nice girl,
but she and her wedding only pertain to this story in so far
as they furnish a background for Lucinda; hence nothing more
need be said of her.
On the afternoon of her wedding day--the Penhallows held to the good,
old-fashioned custom of evening weddings with a rousing dance afterwards--
Penhallow Grange was filled to overflowing with guests who had come there
to have tea and rest themselves before going down to "young" John's.
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