"Well, he said something to Val about hating Christmas, 'cause it always made him miserable. Val said: 'Stay here with us and you won't be miserable.' He said: 'No, I don't think it would be easy to be miserable with you.' And he looked so pleased. Let's ask him to stay." Mrs. Gano watched the advancing pair with grave eyes. It was rare to see Val with such a heightened color. It rained the next day, and there was no driving. But Val, in any case, had an old engagement of much importance. Jessie Hornsey, a cousin of Harry Wilbur's, was giving a "tea-fight." Miss Hornsey had "graduated" that June, and was, in spite of her great age, a particular friend of Val's, who had been much honored by her condescension in the past, and by the special mark of favor in the present invitation. At the last moment came little pink note No. 2, to say that Miss Hornsey had heard that Miss Gano had a cousin staying with her: would she bring him? Val, already dressed and ready to go, precipitated herself down-stairs to find her cousin. He was stretched out comfortably before the parlor fire reading an old battered book. "Here, read this instead." She spread the blushing sheet triumphantly over the yellow page. He looked up, smothering a yawn behind his even white teeth, stirred lazily in the depths of his arm-chair, and then dropped his eyes upon Miss Hornsey's note. "Well?" asked Val, impatiently. "Well?" "What you think?" "That this is a very handsome proposition." "Will you come?" "Ah, that's another matter." "But do." "What for?" "She's awfully nice--she's Harry's cousin--and all the _older_ girls and boys will be there. You'll like it. I should think there'd be hardly anybody else as young as I am." "Won't you feel your inferiority?" "I think it's _very_ nice of Jessie Hornsey to ask me." He could see she had been proud of the distinction. "Well, you go and tell them I--I've got rheumatism, and have to sit in an arm-chair." "Oh, do come!" "Just look at the rain!" "We can take the horse-cars." "Ugh!" he shuddered. "What's the matter?" she said, suspiciously; "you too grand for horse-cars?" "Not too grand, too cold." "Put on an overcoat." "Don't you think it's very comfortable here?" "Yes, but Jessie Hornsey--" "Do you know"--he laid the old book on the floor by his chair and stretched out his shapely hands to the blaze--"do you know, I think this is _much_ nicer than tea-fighting at Jessie Hornsey's." "What if _I_ don't go, either?" said Val, with a sudden inspiration. "Why should you?" returned Ethan, smiling. She whipped off her hat and jacket and flung them on the sofa. "And you're all alone," she said, in extenuation of her sudden change of front. "Exactly." "Do you know, you are not at all what I expected?" "I'm very sorry." "I used to imagine what you were like, and it wasn't at all like this." He sat up with a look of amusement. "How do I fall short?"