“They say that story isn’t true,” said Felicity. “They say what she really died of was indigestion. The Governor’s wife who lives there now is a relation of our own. She is a second cousin of father’s but we’ve never seen her. Her name was Agnes Clark. And mind you, when father was a young man he was dead in love with her and so was she with him.”
“Who ever told you that?” exclaimed Dan.
“Aunt Olivia. And I’ve heard ma teasing father about it, too. Of course, it was before father got acquainted with mother.”
“Why didn’t your father marry her?” I asked.
“Well, she just simply wouldn’t marry him in the end. She got over being in love with him. I guess she was pretty fickle. Aunt Olivia said father felt awful about it for awhile, but he got over it when he met ma. Ma was twice as good-looking as Agnes Clark. Agnes was a sight for freckles, so Aunt Olivia says. But she and father remained real good friends. Just think, if she had married him we would have been the children of the Governor’s wife.”
“But she wouldn’t have been the Governor’s wife then,” said Dan.
“I guess it’s just as good being father’s wife,” declared Cecily loyally.
“You might think so if you saw the Governor,” chuckled Dan. “Uncle Roger says it would be no harm to worship him because he doesn’t look like anything in the heavens above or on the earth beneath or the waters under the earth.”
“Oh, Uncle Roger just says that because he’s on the opposite side of politics,” said Cecily. “The Governor isn’t really so very ugly. I saw him at the Markdale picnic two years ago. He’s very fat and bald and red-faced, but I’ve seen far worse looking men.”
“I’m afraid your seat is too near the stove, Aunt Eliza,” shouted Felicity.