It was hard work for the children to keep the secret to themselves when at school that afternoon; but they did. It was only little Sue who confided to a friend the fact that “the biggest man in the whole world, ’cept the kings an’ princes of fairy tales, was coming to visit them;” but this indefinite information was received with stolid indifference and quickly forgotten.
Phoebe went with Judith to the station to meet the four o’clock train, at her cousin’s earnest request, and her heart beat wildly as the train drew in. The girl had pictured to herself a big, stalwart gentleman, stern-visaged and grim, wearing a Prince Albert coat and a tall silk hat, the center of a crowd of admiring observers. She was looking for this important personage among the passengers who alighted from the cars when Judith’s voice said in her ear:
“Shake hands with Cousin John, Phoebe.”
She started and blushed and then glanced shyly into the kind and humorous eyes that gleamed from beneath the brim of a soft felt hat. The Great Man was not great in stature; on the contrary his eyes were about on a level with Phoebe’s own and she saw that his form was thin and somewhat stooping. His coat was dusty from travel, his tie somewhat carelessly arranged and his shoes were sadly in need of shining. Otherwise there was an air of easy goodfellowship about Cousin John that made Phoebe forget in a moment that he was the governor of a great state and the idol of his people.
“Bless me, what a big girl!” he cried, looking at Phoebe admiringly. “I thought all your adopted children were infants, Judy, and fully expected to find you wielding half a dozen nursing bottles.”
“No, indeed,” laughed the Little Mother; “the Darings are all stalwarts, I assure you; an army of able-bodied boys and girls almost ready to vote for you, Cousin John.”
“Oh-ho! Suffragettes, eh?” he retorted, looking at Phoebe mischievously.
“Not yet,” she said, returning his smile. “The women of Riverdale haven’t organized the army militant, I’m glad to say; for I’ve an idea I would never join it.”
“You’re wrong,” he said quickly. “The women of the world will dominate politics, some day, and you mustn’t be too old-fashioned in your notions to join the procession of progress. But I mustn’t talk shop to-day. What’s that tree, Judith; a live oak or a hickory? What a quaint old town, and how cosy and delightful it seems! Some day, little Cousin, I’m going to disappear from the world and rusticate in just such a happy, forgotten paradise as Riverdale.”
They were walking up the street, now, heading directly for the Daring residence. The governor carried a small traveling bag and a light overcoat. Those who saw him looked at him curiously, wondering what guest was visiting the Darings; but not one of the gaping villagers suspected that this was their governor.