Purple lights laid enchantment upon the distant hills, where the Tapestry-Maker had stored her threads--great skeins of crimson and golden green, russet and flaming orange, to be woven into the warp and woof of September by some magic of starlight and dawn. Lost rainbows and forgotten sunsets had mysteriously come back, to lie for a moment upon hill or river, and then to disappear. [Sidenote: Making Ready] Noon had been chosen for the ceremony, in the little church at the foot of the Hill of the Muses, for, as Alden had said, with a laugh, "even though it was private, it might as well be fashionable." Aunt Matilda was up at dawn, putting new lace into the neck and sleeves of her best brown alpaca, as tremulous and anxious as though she herself were to be the bride. Rosemary had packed her few belongings the day before, in the little old-fashioned trunk that had been her mother's. As she dressed, Aunt Matilda sat on the bed, pathetically eager to help in some way, though it might be only to pin up a stray lock or tie a shoe. Rosemary shook out the dull ashen masses of her hair with a sigh. As she put it up, Alden's big betrothal diamond blazed star-like upon her rough, red hand. She contemplated it ruefully--it seemed so out of place--then brightened at the memory of the promise Mrs. Marsh had made so long ago. "She'll teach me how to take care of my hands," said Rosemary, half to herself, "so they'll look like hers." "She?" repeated Aunt Matilda. "Who?" [Sidenote: Matilda's Compensation] "Mrs. Marsh--mother." "Yes, I guess she will. She'll teach you a lot of things Ma and me have never heard tell of. Maybe you'd just as soon ask her, Rosemary, why she never returned my call?" "I will, surely. I don't think she meant anything by it, Aunt Matilda. She might have been busy and forgotten about it. Anyhow, you'll have to come to see me now." "Yes, I will. I've thought I'd put the minister's tintype up on the mantel now, as long as Ma ain't likely to see it. It'll be company for me. And I reckon I'll get me a cat. I always wanted one and Ma would never let me have it. I can keep it down-stairs and she may never know about it, but even if she hears it meowing, or me talkin' to it, she can't say nothin' about it. "My, ain't it beautiful!" she continued, as Rosemary slipped her white gown over her head. "Please let me hook it up, Rosemary--this is as near as I'll ever come to a wedding. Are you going in to see her before you go?" Rosemary hesitated. "Yes," she sighed, "I'll go. I think I ought to." "Don't if you don't want to. I wouldn't spoil my wedding-day by doing anything I didn't like to do." [Sidenote: Grandmother Relaxes] "I want to," murmured Rosemary. "I wouldn't feel right not to." So, when she was ready, she went into the old lady's room. Happiness made her almost lovely as she stood there in her simple white gown and big plumed hat, drawing long white kid gloves over her red hands.