s
was right?

Missy wasn't vain, but she'd heard before that she had "beautiful eyes."
Perhaps Tess WAS right. Missy blushed and was silent. Just then, even
had she known the proper reply to make, she couldn't have voiced it.
As "the Duchess" might have phrased it, she was "naturally covered with
confusion."

But already Tess had flitted from the delightfully embarrassing theme of
her friend's looks.

"Wouldn't it be grand," she murmured dreamily, "to live in England?"

"Yes--grand," murmured Missy in response.

"Everything's so--so baronial over there."

Baronial!--as always, Tess had hit upon the exact word. Missy sighed
again. She had always loved Cherryvale, always been loyal to it; but no
one could accuse Cherryvale of being "baronial."

That evening, when Missy went upstairs to smooth her "nut-brown locks"
before supper, she gazed about her room with an expression of faint
dissatisfaction. It was an adequate, even pretty room, with its flowered
wall-paper and lace curtains and bird's-eye maple "set"; and, by the
window, a little drop-front desk where she could sit and write at the
times when feeling welled in her till it demanded an outlet.

But, now, she had an inner confused vision of "lounging-chairs" covered
with pale-blue satin; of velvet, spindle-legged tables hung with
priceless lace and bearing Dresden baskets smothered in flowers. Oh,
beautiful! If only to her, Missy, such habitation might ever befall!

However, when she started to "brush up" her hair, she eyed it with a
regard more favourable than usual. "Rich chestnut tresses!" She lingered
to contemplate, in the mirror, the great grey eyes which looked back at
her from their subtle depths. She had a suspicion the act was silly, but
it was satisfying.

That evening at the supper-table marked the beginning of a phase in
Missy's life which was to cause her family bewilderment, secret surmise,
amusement and some anxiety.

During the meal she talked very little. She had learned long ago to keep
her thoughts to herself, because old people seldom understand you. Often
they ask embarrassing questions and, even if they don't laugh at you,
you have the feeling they may be laughing inside. Her present thoughts
were so delectable and engrossing that Missy did not always hear when
she was spoken to. Toward the end of the meal, just as she caught
herself in the nick of time about to pour vinegar instead of cream over
her berries, mother said:

"Well,