When I am
a young lady I 'll be prettier than she is, though, for my hair is
goldener than hers, and my eyes are brown, and hers are nothing, but
plain blue. I heard a gentleman say the other day I had 'a rare style
of beauty,' he did n't know I heard (he was talking to Mamma, and he
thought I had gone away, but I had n't). I 'm glad I have 'a rare
style of beauty,' and I 'm glad my father 's rich, so I can have lovely
clothes and-- Seems to me any one ought to see that I 'm prettier than
that old lady over there; she 's all bent over and wrinkled, and when
she talks her voice is all kind of trembly, and her eyes are as dim--
But she 'll go in before me just the same, and I 'll get tireder and
tireder, until I-- Mamma, won't you come over to that sofa, and put
your arm around me so I can rest? I 'm as sleepy as I can be; and by
the time all these folks get done being _taken_, I 'll be dead, I
s'pose. _Do_ come!"
Her mother permitted herself to be led to the opposite side of the
room, where a large lounge stood, and seating herself upon it, took her
little daughter within the circle of her arm; whereupon Marjorie
commenced complaining of the injustice of these "homely" people being
given the advantage over her pretty self.
"Oh, Marjorie, Marjorie!" whispered her mother, "what a very foolish
little girl you are! I think it would take a miracle to make you see
aright.
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