h a hat pin. The pin speared the pink
one, so I put it on. It is becoming, isn't it? Tell me, what do you
think of my looks?"

At this naive demand, made in a perfectly serious tone, Priscilla
laughed again. But Anne said, impulsively squeezing Philippa's hand,

"We thought this morning that you were the prettiest girl we saw at
Redmond."

Philippa's crooked mouth flashed into a bewitching, crooked smile over
very white little teeth.

"I thought that myself," was her next astounding statement, "but I
wanted some one else's opinion to bolster mine up. I can't decide even
on my own appearance. Just as soon as I've decided that I'm pretty
I begin to feel miserably that I'm not. Besides, have a horrible old
great-aunt who is always saying to me, with a mournful sigh, 'You were
such a pretty baby. It's strange how children change when they grow up.'
I adore aunts, but I detest great-aunts. Please tell me quite often that
I am pretty, if you don't mind. I feel so much more comfortable when I
can believe I'm pretty. And I'll be just as obliging to you if you want
me to--I CAN be, with a clear conscience."

"Thanks," laughed Anne, "but Priscilla and I are so firmly convinced of
our own good looks that we don't need any assurance about them, so you
needn't trouble."

"Oh, you're laughing at me. I know you think I'm abominably vain, but
I'm not. There really isn't one spark of vanity in me. And I'm never a
bit grudging about paying compliments to other girls when they deserve
them. I'm so glad I know you folks. I came up on Saturday and I've
nearly died of homesickness ever since. It's a horrible feeling, isn't
it? In Bolingbroke I'm an important personage, and in Kingsport I'm just
nobody! There were times when I could feel my soul turning a delicate
blue. Where do you hang out?"

"Thirty-eight St. John's Street."

"Better and better. Why, I'm just around the corner on Wallace Street.
I don't like my boardinghouse, though. It's bleak and lonesome, and my
room looks out on such an unholy back yard. It's the ugliest place
in the world. As for cats--well, surely ALL the Kingsport cats can't
congregate there at night, but half of them must. I adore cats on hearth
rugs, snoozing before nice, friendly fires, but cats in back yards at
midnight are totally different animals. The first night I was here I
cried all night, and so did the cats. You should have seen my nose in
the morning. How I wished I had never left home!"

"I