re of the place. I declare, I can see the smoke of the
cottage rising from behind the hill! What a dull, dirty, insignificant
spot it is! And what a life to lead there!"

She turned once more to the city picture. And now a strange thing took
place. In proportion as the other, to the eyes of her mind, receded
into the background, this, to her present bodily eyes, appeared to come
forward and assume reality. At last, after it had been in this way
growing upon her for some time, she gave a cry of conviction, and said
aloud,--

"I do believe it is real! That frame is only a trick of the woman to
make me fancy it a picture lest I should go and make my fortune. She is
a witch, the ugly old creature! It would serve her right to tell the
king and have her punished for not taking me to the palace--one of his
poor lost children he is so fond of! I should like to see her ugly old
head cut off. Anyhow I will try my luck without asking her leave. How
she has ill used me!"

But at that moment, she heard the voice of the wise woman calling,
"Agnes!" and, smoothing her face, she tried to look as good as she
could, and walked back into the cottage. There stood the wise woman,
looking all round the place, and examining her work. She fixed her eyes
upon Agnes in a way that confused her, and made her cast hers down, for
she felt as if she were reading her thoughts. The wise woman, however,
asked no questions, but began to talk about her work, approving of some
of it, which filled her with arrogance, and showing how some of it
might have been done better, which filled her with resentment. But the
wise woman seemed to take no care of what she might be thinking, and
went straight on with her lesson. By the time it was over, the power of
reading thoughts would not have been necessary to a knowledge of what
was in the mind of Agnes, for it had all come to the surface--that is
up into her face, which is the surface of the mind. Ere it had time to
sink down again, the wise woman caught up the little mirror, and held
it before her: Agnes saw her Somebody--the very embodiment of miserable
conceit and ugly ill-temper. She gave such a scream of horror that the
wise woman pitied her, and laying aside the mirror, took her upon her
knees, and talked to her most kindly and solemnly; in particular about
the necessity of destroying the ugly things that come out of the
heart--so ugly that they make the very face over them ugly also.

And what was Agnes