The business of dressing was a serious one for Miss Ann Peyton. In the first place she was exquisitely neat and particular and every article of clothing must be exactly right. Her clothes were old and worn and every time she dressed some break was discovered that must be darned. Her hoop skirt was ever in need of repair, with tapes that had broken from their moorings or strings that had come loose. On this evening she discovered a small hole in her little satin slipper that must be adroitly mended with court plaster. The auburn wig must be combed and curled. A touch of rouge must be rubbed on the poor old cheeks. The Peyton pearls must be taken from the strong box--a necklace, earrings, breastpin and tiara. When all was over Miss Ann really did look lovely. With the dignity and carriage that any queen might have envied she swept down the broad stairway. "Heavens! Mildred, why didn't you let us know you were to have a fancy dress ball?" cried Jean Roland, and all of the gay young things gathered in the broad hall looked up as Miss Ann descended. To most of them she was but a figure of fun. "Oh, that's nobody but old Cousin Ann Peyton," explained Mildred. "She's our chronic visitor. She always dresses like a telephone doll." Miss Ann heard both remarks, but gave no sign of annoyance, except to hold her head with added dignity. A chronic visitor could not afford to show resentment at the thoughtless rudeness of young persons. It seemed to the old lady that young cousins in all the homes where she visited were growing more and more outspoken and rude and less and less considerate of her. She still deemed it her right to be honored guest wherever she chose to bestow the privilege of her company, although her self-esteem had had many a quiet dig and a few hard knocks in the recent months. Sometimes the thought came to Cousin Ann that the young cousins were perhaps taking their cue from the older generation. Were the older ones quite as polite and cordial as they had been? Of course one might expect brusqueness from Betty Throckmorton, but was there not a change of manner even here at Buck Hill--not just rudeness from Mildred, who was nothing but a spoiled child, but from Mr. and Mrs. Bucknor themselves? Then there was Big Josh and Little Josh, both of whom had made excuses about having her and had assured her they would write for her to come to them later on and she had heard from neither of them.