Ignatius was researching his family tree.
“All our ancestors have one thing in common,” he said to Sadie, his great aunt.
“What’s that?” asked Sadie, with a worried face.
“They all died,” joked Ignatius.
Sadie laughed. “You shouldn’t be doing that,” she said. “You should let sleeping dogs lie. You never know what you might turn up.”
“It’s interesting,” said Ignatius.
“It’s none of our business,” said Sadie. “People make mistakes in life. We should leave them alone.”
“Like what?” asked Ignatius.
“Well, for example,” she said, “people might discover that their parents are not their real parents.”
“That would be fun,” he said. “Do you know something I don’t?”
“I know nothing,” laughed Sadie.
When Sadie died a few years later, she took a secret to her grave. It was a profound secret. One that would have made Ignatius throw away his family tree research and start again from scratch. But he didn’t know. And there was no way now he ever would, could or should discover it.