So they talked while the train bore them nearer and nearer Springfield where Virginia’s grandmother and aunt were to meet her. At last there were but a few minutes left, and she ran to wash and brush her hair, so that she might carry out the first of Aunt Lou’s instructions: “Be sure you are tidy when you meet your grandmother.” She was very “tidy,” at least so the Colonel thought, when, with freshly brushed suit and hat, new gloves and little silk umbrella, she stood with beating heart and wide-open, half-frightened eyes on the platform of the slowly moving train. The Colonel was behind her with her bag. “You see,” she told him, a little tremulously, “I’m so anxious for them to approve of me.” “Well, if they don’t—” he ejaculated almost angry, and perhaps it was just as well that the train stopped that moment. Virginia’s eyes were searching the faces about her for those who might be her grandmother and aunt; and, at the same time, farther up the platform, the eyes of a stately, white-haired lady in black and of a fresh-faced younger woman in blue were searching for a certain little girl whom they had not seen for years. “There she is, mother,” cried the younger woman at last, quickening her steps, “there in the blue suit. She walks with her head high just as Mary did.” Tears came into the eyes of the white-haired lady. “But there’s a gentleman with her, Nan. Who can he be?” “Oh, probably just some one she’s met. If she’s like her mother, she’d be sure to meet some one.” She hurried forward, and so sure was she that the girl in the blue suit was Virginia, that she put both arms around her, and kissed her at once without saying a word. “Oh, Aunt Nan,” breathed Virginia, her heart beating less fast. She knew that moment that she should love Aunt Nan. But her heart beat fast again, as Aunt Nan drew her forward to meet her grandmother, who was drawing near more slowly. “And this is Virginia,” said that lady, extending her perfectly gloved hand, and kissing Virginia’s cheek. “I am glad to see you, my dear. Mary’s little girl!” she murmured to herself, and at that tears came again to her eyes. Virginia liked her for the tears, but could somehow find nothing to say in response to her grandmother’s greeting. She stood embarrassed; and then all at once she remembered the Colonel. He stood, hat in hand, with her bag—a soldierly, dignified figure, who must impress her grandmother. “I—I beg your pardon, grandmother,” she stammered. “This is my friend, Colonel Standish, who has been kind to me on the way.”