insisted upon going to Hetherton Place, he consented and took her himself in his light open buggy. Anna was never happier than when seen by the villagers in company with Phil, or with any of the Rossiters of whose relationship to herself she was very proud, parading it always before strangers when she thought there was any likelihood of its working good for herself. Like her grandmother she thought a great deal of dress, and on this occasion she was very dashingly arrayed with streamers on her hat nearly a yard long, her dress tied back so tight that she could scarcely walk, her fan swinging from her side, a black lace scarf which came almost to her feet, and a white silk parasol which her mother had bought in Boston at an enormous price. Anna was very much in love with her parasol, and very angry with Phil for telling her it was more suitable for the city than for the country. She liked city things, she said, and if the Merrivale people were so far behind the times as not to tolerate a white silk parasol she meant to educate them. So she flaunted her parasol on all occasions and held it airily over her head as she rode to Hetherton Place with Phil, and was very soft, and gentle and talkative, and told him of a schoolmate of hers who had just been married, and made a splendid match, only some might object to it, as the parties were _own cousins_, not half, but _own_? For her part she saw nothing out of the way if they were suited. Did Phil think it wrong for cousins to marry each other? Yes, Phil thought it decidedly wicked, and he urged his pony into a pace which drowned the rest of Miss Anna’s remarks on the subject of cousins marrying. Arrived at Hetherton Place, the young lady criticised things generally with an unsparing tongue. Every thing was so simple and plain, especially in Reinette’s room. Of course it was pleasant, and neat, and cool, and airy, but why did Phil get matting for the floor, and that light, cheap-looking furniture. There was a lovely pattern of Brussels carpeting at Enfair’s for a dollar fifty a yard and a high black walnut bedstead and dressing bureau at Trumbull’s; and why didn’t he get a wardrobe with a looking-glass door, so Reinette could see the _bottom_ of her dresses. Then she inspected the pictures, and asked where he found those dark-looking photographs, and that woman in the clouds with her eyes rolled up, and so many children around her. Why didn’t he get those lovely pictures, “Wide Awake” and “Fast Asleep?” They would brighten up the room so much! Phil bit his lips, but maintained a very grave face while he explained to the young lady that what she called photographs were fine steel engravings, which he found in Frankfort, one a landscape after Claude Lorraine, and the other a moonlight scene on the Rhine, near Bingen, with the Mouse Tower and Ehrenfels in sight, while the woman with her eyes rolled up was an oil copy of Murillo’s great picture, the gem of the Louvre.