"I wonder why Aunt Francesca didn't marry again," mused Allison.

"Because her heart is deep enough to hold a grave."

"You knew her husband, didn't you?"

"He was my best friend," answered the Colonel, a little sadly. "How the
years separate and destroy, and blot out the things that count for the
most!"

"I wonder how she happened to be named 'Francesca.' It isn't an American
name."

"She wasn't. Her name was 'Mary Frances,' and he changed it to 'Marie
Francesca.' So she has been 'Marie Francesca' ever since, though she
never uses the 'Marie.' That was his name for her."

"The change suits her someway. Queer idea she has about names fitting
people, and yet it isn't so queer, either, when you come to think of it.
Rose might have been named Abigail or Jerusha, yet I believe people
would have found out she was like a rose and called her by her proper
name."

Colonel Kent flashed a quick glance at him, but the expression of his
face had not changed. "And Isabel?" he queried, lightly.

"Isabel's only a kid and it doesn't matter so much whether things fit
her or not. I've promised to take her to the theatre," he continued,
irrelevantly, "because Aunt Francesca wants her guest to be amused. I'm
also commissioned to find some youths about twenty and trot 'em round