y looks; and
really when you think of all the plain and downright ugly people in the
world, there is surely room for thankfulness." "Have you just found
that out, Betty?"

"My dear Die, I am rather in a humble frame of mind just now. Don't you
recollect my telling you Mrs. Robinson's speech last Monday. I have
never thought quite so much of myself since."

"If I remember rightly, Mrs. Robinson paid you a compliment. She told
Miss Clarkson that she wished Selina were as fine a woman as Elizabeth
Templeton."

"And you call that compliment!" and Elizabeth arched her long full
throat in rather a haughty and swanlike manner. "Fancy that goose of a
Miss Clarkson repeating such a speech. A fine woman is my abhorrence.
It always seems to me to rank in the same category with a prime turkey
or a prize bullock, or something ready for the market."

"My dear Betty, you do say such odd things!"

"Of course I do. Elizabeth is nothing if she is not original. Don't you
remember dear old dad's speech? But I am really serious, Die--you know
I never coveted beauty."

"No, nor I, dear," and Dinah spoke quite earnestly.

"Oh, you," returned Elizabeth with playful tenderness. "I should hope
not. I expect many women would be glad to change with you, you sweet
thing." Then Dinah smiled and patted her sister's hand.

"No, Betty, you must not say that. I have often thought that even our
poor faces, with all their defects, ought to be sacred to us. If we are
a thought of God, as some one has beautifully put it, surely the stamp
of His handiwork must be precious to us."

"But how about the marred and ugly faces, Die?" and Elizabeth looked at
her dubiously.

"It is their cross," returned Dinah simply--"a heavy cross perhaps, but
when I see a very plain, unattractive woman I do so long to whisper in
her ear--"

"Don't trouble about it, poor thing. What does it matter? You will be
beautiful one day, and even now, if you are good and patient, the
angels will think you lovely.' Dear me, Betty," interrupting herself,
"why are you creasing my pretty silk dress."

"Lord love you, miss, I am only a-feeling for your wings," returned
Elizabeth in a droll voice, and then they both laughed, for this was a
standing joke between them ever since Dinah had repeated poor old Becky
Brent's speech, when the wrinkled hand of the blind and doited old
creature had fumbled about her shapely shoulders.

Dinah had been right in thinking that the vicar and M