Val had put her hair up. But there was too much of it; it overweighted the small head. The shifting lights in the unruly waves, and the blue of the eyes, were brought out by the particular shade of navy cloth that she wore--so plainly made that it had the effect of a cunning artifice to show off the lithe figure. But it was less art than necessity and scarcity of cloth that governed the design. Aunt Valeria had worn it, remodelled to the flamboyant fashion of her day, but it was the identical blue travelling-habit of family legend in which Mrs. Gano, as a girl, made that journey across the Alleghanies in a stage-coach. It was the first time Val had worn it. She was saving it up for New York. The tiny silver disks down the front of the bodice found themselves again, after half a century, buttoning up an eager young body, panting, impatient to cross the mountains from this side, with back to the westering sun, and with bright silver buttons, like bosses on a shield, ready to receive the first dart from out the east. The party in the parlor were weary enough waiting before An' Jerusha hobbled into the front hall with a negro lad in tow, who brought the news that: "Dey's bin a accidunt on de line; nobuddy hurt, but the train'll be seberal hours late. Mr. Gano reckons he'll stay ober at de station till it gits yere." "Isn't it just like cousin Ethan!" Emmie burst out, when the two blacks had gone. "I don't believe he'll ever come--I don't believe we've got a cousin Ethan!" she wound up, with exasperation. Partly to reassure herself, partly to kill time, she went into her grandmother's room and brought back her cousin's latest photograph. "Don't you sometimes think this is the crossest-looking of any?" she whispered to Val. "I don't think it's cross--just grave. I hate grinning men." "I don't want him to grin; but his mouth looks--looks---- Still, I _do_ like his mustache brushed that way, so you can see his lips a little. And his eyes!--oh! his eyes are beautiful!" They studied the picture for some moments held between them. "Do you quite like his chin?" pursued Emmie. "I like that best of all except his nose," said Val, firmly. "Oh, what makes you like his _nose_?" "Because it isn't too little, and because it's rather bony, and because it's got a bridge." "Oh, well, I think I'd prefer it quite straight instead of aquiline. But he's very handsome. It's nice having him look like that." Emmie held the photograph off, and tilted her head from side to side. "Grandma says cousin Ethan and me used to be rather alike as children." She smiled contentedly. "I hope he'll go to church." She took the picture back presently, but before she replaced it on the mantel-piece she looked round over her shoulder. Reassured, she kissed the pasteboard fervently, and put it down with shamefaced, fluttering haste.