This was uttered in a tone of proud satisfaction. Everybody in Bloomdale knew what a comfort it was to the solitary woman to talk about her sister. The Virginia beauty had married a western millionaire, and when at the monthly sewing society Miss Phillida read aloud her last Denver letter, these staid, but pleasure-loving Virginia matrons listened eagerly. Young Heaton leaned back against the shelves in an easy, conversational attitude, and looked politely interested. "Of course you know she's coming home to make a visit, Heaton?" The little lady's joy and yearning brimmed over her mild blue eyes, and she lowered her head, pretending to examine the goods. "So I heard," said Heaton cordially. "We'll all enjoy seeing her, I'm shore." "I expect her to-morrow," Miss Phillida cried excitedly. "By the morning train." A vehicle drew up before the long porch, and the little woman endeavored to seem occupied with her purchase. "I reckon this black and white'd be more appropriate to my years," she said in a critical tone. "But somehow I'm awfully in the notion of taking that pink." "Take the pink, Miss Phillidy; and if you change your mind, we'll take it back and give you another in the place of it." Miss Phillida cast another glance at the black and white, then turned again to the pink. "I'll take it then, Heaton. I feel somehow as if it'd please Emma to have me get a gown that looked cheerful. And I must be getting young again, for I haven't been so in the notion of dressing up for ages. But, dear me! if I haven't forgot to ask the price! Maybe it's beyond my reach." "No, indeed, Miss Phillidy, it's a bargain. Five dollars for any pattern. A chance we mayn't be able to offer our customers again." It was a considerable sum for Miss Phillida to give for a spring dress. She was deep in calculations when a handsome ruddy man of about forty-five entered the store, and greeted her with delightful heartiness. He called her "Cousin Phillidy," and the cousinship, although very distant, enabled him to do the little woman many a good turn. In his heart, Mr. Ned Miller always looked upon her as the woman who might, but for a chance, have been his sister-in-law. The chance had been Emma Wood's marriage with another man. But that was not his fault. Bloomdale said that Ned Miller was of too affectionate a nature to stay a widower. As she reflected his sunshiny smile and answered his gay badinage, a strange idea suddenly entered Miss Phillida's head. It made her get up in great haste. "I--I'll take the pink, Heaton," she said quickly. "I'll carry it right with me." "My horses air at the door, cousin. Let me drive you up the street." "It's but a step; I'm obliged to you, Cousin Ned. And it's such a sweet day, I like to walk." "Well, I'll see you at preaching Sunday, cousin. And your sister, too, I hope. But if I'm in town before, I'll just call in--to see if I can be of any service."