went out and had a conversation with the liveryman. A telegram was despatched to a Columbus carriage manufactory, and an appointment made with the liveryman to go next day to a neighbouring farm and inspect some horseflesh.

Before the week was out, a brougham and a wellconditioned pair of greys stood daily before the Fort, when the weather was clement. Mrs. Gano, less enthusiastic over this new arrival than anyone else, nevertheless drove about day after day in the lovely mild weather, with the top off "Ethan's new-fangled coach," and a look of extreme satisfaction upon her face. But her son decided that, mild as was the autumn air, it came to him in too great draughts behind the flying greys. After that first august apparition of the three elder Ganos in Ethan's equipage, John Gano declined to sustain his part in the daily triumphal progress through the streets of the appreciative town. Naturally, in a place of that size, Mrs. Gano's millionaire grandson was the talk of the hour, and Val and Emmie sunned themselves in his reflected glory. Such is the callousness of youth, that it was a moment of scarcely clouded rapture to the younger generation when John Gano decided to stay at home and prune the dogwoods.

Val and Emmie accepted the proffered places on the front seat with an excitement not to be conveyed to those souls deadened by the luxury of "keeping a carriage" all their lives.

Ethan had tried to insist that one of his cousins should sit by Mrs. Gano.

"Nonsense!" said that lady; "children always sit in

front."

Aunt Jerusha and Venus peeped discreetly round the corner of the house, as usual, to see them start.

"My! Miss Emmie's growin' beautifler and beautifler," Venus had said, as the younger girl smiled and blushed her soft "Thank-you, Cousin Ethan," for his helping hand.

Val, who had already hopped in, turned and waved excitedly to the servants.

"My dear!" remonstrated her Grandmother, while old Jerusha nodded her bright turban and whispered: "Yah! Miss Emmie's awful handsome, but she ain't wavin'; dose chillens tickled to death. Why, Miss Val's face is like a lamp."

As the greys leapt forward, and the two young hearts leapt responsive, Emmie had a flashing realisation of what Elijah felt like, going to heaven in his chariot of fire.

To Val the rapturous excitement of the thing was just another proof of the infinite possibilities life afforded for being ecstatically happy. She would not have admitted there was even a heavenly comparison wherewith to match this blissful flying along with Cousin Ethan opposite, he talking mostly to Grandmamma, of course, but sometimes meeting his cousin's eyes, and smiling in a way that made the breath catch in the breast.

Julie was coming out of her gate that very first day that the four drove by. Val sat up very straight, and made her a sign, subsiding quickly upon a look from Mrs. Gano. But Ethan turned round and looked back. "What a pretty girl! Who is she?"

"My best friend," said Val. "You know, I've shown you her house."

"Ah yes-Julie--"

"Otway. Such lovely people, all the Otways."

"A most estimable family," admitted Mrs. Gano; "rather free-and-easy in their ways. As Emmie said when she was five or six, 'They's the kind of people that sits on beds.""

Emmie smiled a pleased smile at this recollection of infant perspicacity.

"That was when the Otway children were too little to know any better," Val said. "You wait, Cousin Ethan, till you know Julie. You just ought to hear her play the piano! She's coming to supper to-morrow, and oh! she wants to know if you like tennis.”

"Yes. Has she got a court?"

"A splendid one. Haven't you noticed? Just behind the osage-trees."

"Oh, we'll go and play some morning."

"There! you see, Grandma, he doesn't think he's too old or too busy to play games. But I can't go in the mornings. I have lessons with Grandma, you know, till one o'clock, and Julie's at school till half-past two, except on Saturdays."

"So am I," said Emmie sadly. "I wish I were going East, and needn't begin a term that I couldn't finish.”

Val was conscious of something like a qualm at not having thought about the East, or even the Opera, for days. But wait! she would find an opportunity of taking Cousin Ethan into her confidence. Then the great scheme would resume its former gigantic proportions. Hitherto, whenever she had been alone with her cousin, she had been seized with a strange shyness, an excitement that put everything else out of her head except that here

was she, and here was he. It was very queer and very disconcerting, but it was a heavenly feeling, all the same.

"Here's Miss Tibbs coming," said Emmie, wishing to acquaint their guest with all the leading characteristics of the place. "She's quite the most hideous—ahem!— well, she's a very plain lady. And oh! do you see that

man going into the red-brick house?"

"That's Jimmie Battle," said Mrs. Gano.

"Yes. Val, show us how he talks when he tries to be English, and then forgets."

"Oh yes," said Val, nothing loath. "He was telling something funny that happened: 'I laahfed and I laahfed, and, oh golly! how I laffed!'"

"Val, I'm amazed at your language!"

"It's Jimmie's language-of course, we're all amazed." "Look, Val, there goes Harry Wilbur," said Emmie. Yes, it was Harry, pretending not to see them. Val had not answered his last letters, and since he had not called all these days, he must be “mad.”

"Who is Harry Wilbur?" Ethan asked, perceiving the interest taken in this citizen.

"Son of our old friend Judge Wilbur," said Mrs. Gano. "We used to say he was the handsomest man in New Plymouth," said Emmie, looking reflectively at Ethan. "And he's the best bat in the West," added Val loyally; but oh, how insignificant blond men were in comparison with

They passed Miss Appleby taking a posse of her young lady boarders out for a walk.

"They all know you, Cousin Ethan, and they're just dying to turn and look back. We talked about you all

recess."

"Did you?" he laughed.

"Girls chatter too much," said Mrs. Gano; "they were more discreet in my day."

But Emmie knew this was a time of privilege.

"The girls at the Seminary are nearly every one Presbyterians. They don't like being Presbyterians at all." "Why not?"

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day."

"'Cause they can't come to our church on Sun

She

Now they were going up the hill. The young people must get out and walk. Delicious moment of being helped to dismount. The unskilful Emmie, for all Cousin Ethan's hand, had stumbled and twisted her foot. was lifted back, to a sympathetic chorus. Ethan had taken off a glove to try the catch on the carriage door, which did not work easily. He held the glove in his hand as Val and he trudged up the cinder road. Why, that was like her father! And now that Val thought of it, Cousin Ethan had several little ways that recalled her father. Both indulged in fits of gloomy absolute silence "all about nothing," when they might be discoursing pleasantly to their fellows. She glanced at her cousin sideways. Certainly he and John Gano were very different, too, in a sense. The elder man seemed hewn out of wood, Ethan was cut in ivory. Why did he say nothing? He began to draw on his glove, absently, with a preoccupied air.

He was thinking to-day of Mary Burne. Where was she? Had she solved the enigma? He tried to shake her out of his thoughts, but she came back and back.

Val snatched a mullein leaf from the hillside as she passed.