And still he wished his cousin was coming home to see Connie. But Harry was off for Kentucky, and did not know of Connie’s expected visit until it was too late to change his plan, if he had cared to do so. There were only a few days between Mrs. Hart’s letter and the day before Christmas, when she was expected, but in that time the house was put in perfect order, although where the disorder before was the deacon could not guess. But his wife knew, and went through a regular cleaning process, even to the big ball-room over the stable, which she swept and mopped and dusted, looking askance at the piles of butternuts and walnuts on the floor and wondering what Mrs. Hart would think of such litter should she chance to go in there. Fires were built in the parlor and guest chamber, with a view to thaw them out, when, fortunately, the weather changed, and the day before Christmas was ushered in with a warm rain, which threatened to take away all the snow. It cleared, however, in the afternoon, and Kenneth was at the station when the New York train came in, and a tall lady in black alighted, with a little girl, in blue cloak and hood trimmed with swan’s down, her lovely face looking out from the hood, and her blue eyes laughing up at Kenneth as he took her in his arms, while Mrs. Hart picked her way through the melting snow and slush. “This is awful. Couldn’t you have gotten nearer the track?” she said, rather crossly, to Kenneth, as she looked down at her boots covered with mud. “Perhaps I could, but Sorrel is young and don’t like the engine very well. I’m awfully sorry,” Kenneth replied, helping her into the sleigh and taking his seat beside her, with Connie in the middle. CHAPTER IV CONNIE As they drove up the hill, Connie’s bright eyes studied Kenneth curiously, and as she usually said what was in her mind, she finally asked: “Boy, who are you? One of Guard’s grooms?” “Hush-sh!” came from her aunt, while Kenneth felt a twinge similar to that he had experienced when he read Hal’s letter about the darkies. That was bad enough, but this was worse. He laughed, however, and answered: “I am Kenneth Stannard, your guardian’s son.” “Oh-h!” Connie said, pursing up her little mouth and moving forward so as to look at him more closely. “I’m so glad. I like boys ever so much.” Leaning back, she nestled closer to him, and rubbed her blue hood against his shoulder in a caressing kind of way, which sent the blood tingling through his veins and made him forget the groom. “Will we have a Christmas-tree to-night, with tapers?” she asked, as they passed a clump of pines near the top of the hill. Kenneth looked distressed. Anything like a Christmas-tree had never come into his experience. He had heard of them at St. Jude’s at Rocky Point, but had never seen any one or knew that they had them in a private house.