I can't bear to
stand in this room and remember Miss Sherrard's talk. Fancy her saying
that even my dress was a talent! Now there's something in favor of my
nice red cotton and my dear red silk blouse; and fancy her saying still
more that my looks, my pretty face, was a talent! Mrs. Denvers, do you
think me pretty, very, very, very pretty?"
"No, Kitty dear, not so wonderfully pretty as that; but you have an
attractive face. Miss Sherrard is quite right; beauty is a gift,
although it used to be my old-fashioned idea that the less girls were
told about their looks the better."
"Oh, but that's all exploded, love," cried Kitty. "In these days girls
are told when they are pretty just as much as they are told when they
are clever. Now, I'm not clever, not a bit. I'm a dunce, an out and out
dunce; but at any rate I've got a pretty face, and I promised that I
would use my talents for--for the best--" Here she lowered her face and
a thoughtful and beautiful expression came into the great big eyes. "But
it's no use," she added. "I am bothered entirely every day of my life,
and I am just going from bad to worse."
"Hush, Kitty, you must not talk in that way Hark! I think I hear Miss
Sherrard's step." As Mrs. Denvers spoke the door was slowly opened and
Miss Sherrard, accompanied by Miss Worrick, came in.
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