blushing like noon.

"Good gracious, now _you_ are making fun of me. I'm only stating a
patent fact. Mirrors and men must have told you a thousand times that
you are pretty."

"Oh, them! They say it to every one. Look here--there's the ugliest
little runts of girls in Noonoon, and they're always telling their
conquests and that this man and that man say they're pretty, when a
blind cat could see that they are ugly, and the men must be just
stringing them to try and take them down. So when they say it to me I
always make up my mind I'd have more gumption than to take notice, for
I can't see any beauty in myself. I'm too fat and strong-looking; all
the beauties are thin and delicate-looking in the face--not a bit like
me. I know I'm not cross-eyed or got one ear off, but that's about
all."

I had been wont to think the only place unconscious beauties abounded
was in high-flown, unreal novels; but here was one in real life, and
that the exceedingly unvarnished existence of Noonoon. Not that I
would have thought any the less of her had she been conscious of her
physical loveliness, for beauty is such a glorious, powerful,
intoxicating gift that had I been blessed with it I'm sure I would
have admired myself all day, and the wonder to me regarding beautiful
men and women is not that they are so conceited, but, on the contrary,
that they are so little vain.

"I want to tell you why I want to be on the stage. I couldn't tell how
I hate Noonoon. It's all very well for grandma to settle down now and
want me to be the same, but when she was young (you get her to tell
you some of the yarns, they're tip-top) she wasn't as quiet as I am by
a long way. Just fancy marrying some galoot about here and settling
down to wash pots and pack tomatoes and live in the dust among the
mosquitoes, _always_! I'd rather die. I'll tell you the whole thing
while I'm about it. You won't mind, as I'm sure you have had trouble
too, as your white hair doesn't look to be age."

Comparison of her midget irritation with those that had put broad
white streaks in my hair was amusing, but the rosy heart of a girl
magnifies that which it doesn't contract.

"Grandma wants me to marry. Did you see that fellow who was after
pumpkins?--he ought to make one of his head, the great thing! Grandma
has a fancy for me having him, but I wouldn't marry him if he were the
only man in Noonoon. Do you know, they actually call him Dora because
he was breaking his neck