The Little Colonel was waiting in the carriage at the depot when Mrs.
Sherman and Betty stepped off the train at Lloydsboro Valley. Rob Moore
had come down, too, curious for a glimpse at the first arrival. He
grinned at the expression of surprise and dismay on the Little Colonel's
face as her glance fell on Betty. Was it that her little guest had no
hat, she wondered, or was it because no one in the cuckoo's nest had
ever taught her any better than to go travelling in such style? And
carrying a little old-fashioned willow basket, too! How odd and
countrified she looked!

But Lloyd was too ladylike to show her disappointment. She climbed out
of the carriage and greeted Betty as graciously as her mother had done.
Then straightway she forgot her annoyance, for the sweet friendliness of
the little face smiling up into hers was irresistible.

"Does the Valley look as you thought it would, Elizabeth?" asked Mrs.
Sherman, as the carriage rolled homeward, past handsome suburban homes
with closely cut lawns and trimly kept paths.

"No," said Betty, hesitatingly. "You see I thought you lived in the
country, and I suppose it is a sort of country, but not the kind that I
live in. Here everything is pruned and raked until it looks as if it had
just had its hair parted smoothly in the middle, and its shoe-strings
tied. At home there is so much underbrush, and such a tangle of weeds
and high grass and briers, that the yards look as if they'd forgotten to
comb their hair when they got up, and had gone around all day with it
hanging down their backs in snarls."

The Little Colonel laughed. The newcomer had amusing fancies, at any