that morning, and the Japanese
gong did not ring for fifteen minutes longer. During that time Lily and
Amelia sat together on a little rustic bench under a twinkling poplar,
and they talked, and a sort of miniature sun-and-satellite relation was
established between them, although neither was aware of it. Lily, being
on the whole a very normal little girl, and not disposed to even a full
estimate of herself as compared with others of her own sex, did not
dream of Amelia's adoration, and Amelia, being rarely destitute of
self-consciousness, did not understand the whole scope of her own
sentiments. It was quite sufficient that she was seated close to this
wonderful Lily, and agreeing with her to the verge of immolation.

"Of course," said Lily, "girls are pretty, and boys are just as ugly as
they can be."

"Oh yes," said Amelia, fervently.

"But," said Lily, thoughtfully, "it is queer how Johnny Trumbull always
comes out ahead in a fight, and he is not so very large, either."

"Yes," said Amelia, but she realized a pang of jealousy. "Girls could
fight, I suppose," said she.

"Oh yes, and get their clothes all torn and messy," said Lily.

"I shouldn't care," said Amelia. Then she added, with a little toss, "I
almost know I could fight." The thought even floated through her wicked
little mind that fighting might be a method of wearing out obnoxious and
durable clothes.

"You!" said Lily, and the scorn in her voice wilted Amelia.

"Maybe I couldn't," said she.

"Of course you couldn't, and if you could, what a sight you'd be. Of
course it wouldn't hurt your clothes as much as some, because your
mother dresses you in strong things, but you'd be sure to get black and
blue, and what would be the use, anyway? You couldn't be a boy, if you
did fight."

"No. I know I couldn't."

"Then what is the use? We are a good deal prettier than boys, and
cleaner, and have nicer manners, and we must be satisfied."

"You are prettier," said Amelia, with a look of worshipful admiration at
Lily's sweet little face.

"You are prettier," said Lily. Then she added, equivocally, "Even the
very homeliest girl is prettier than a boy."

Poor Amelia, it was a good deal for her to be called prettier than a
very dusty boy in a fight. She fairly dimpled with delight, and again
she smiled charmingly. Lily eyed her critically.

"You aren't so very homely, after all, Amelia," she said. "You needn't
think you are."

Amelia smiled again.