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.

Our guest, whose face was certainly very much flushed, shook her head.

"Oh, no, I'm very comfortable," she said. But her voice had the effect
of making us uncomfortable. There was a queer, uncertain little sound
in it. Was Great-aunt Eliza laughing at us? We looked at her sharply
but her face was very solemn. Only her eyes had a suspicious appearance.
Somehow, we did not talk much more the rest of the meal.

When it was over Great-aunt Eliza said she was very sorry but she must
really go. Felicity politely urged her to stay, but was much relieved
when Great-aunt Eliza adhered to her intention of going. When Felicity
took her to the spare room Cecily slipped upstairs and presently came
back with a little parcel in her hand.

"What have you got there?" demanded Felicity suspiciously.

"A--a little bag of rose-leaves," faltered Cecily. "I thought I'd give
them to Aunt Eliza."

"The idea! Don't you do such a thing," said Felicity contemptuously.
"She'd think you were crazy."

"She was awfully nice when I asked her for her name for the quilt,"
protested Cecily, "and she took a ten-cent section after all. So I'd
like to give her the rose-leaves--and I'm going to, too, Miss Felicity."

Great-aunt