imself again.

Althea had taken the interval to make sure about her hair-ribbon and her
skirts. The ribbons had been pronounced outgrown and superfluous, and
had been banished. The suitability of longer skirts had been felt, and
had been acted upon. Althea was now almost a young lady, and a very
pretty one.

I say it without bitterness. The beauties of nature--those trifles that
make the great differences--are indeed unequally distributed among human
creatures. Not all girls are pretty; not all attractive; not all
equipped to make their way. No.

You will assume for yourselves the greenery of grass and trees, the slow
cumuli in the afternoon sky, the lively, brightly dressed throngs on
lawns and verandas, and the horses; yes, even those were present,
somewhere or other.

Gertrude McComas was of the crowd; suitably dressed (or, perhaps,
attired), a little less spare than once, and somehow conveying the
impression, if unobtrusively, that her presence was necessary for the
completeness of the function. She was pleasant with Althea, who had a
horse on her mind and a number on her back.

Gertrude had returned from the North with Althea and Albert, a week
before Albert's allotted time with her was up, so that they might all be
a part of this occasion. Albert was now taller than his father, had
begun to gather up a little assertiveness on reaching the end of his
preparatory days, had taken his examinations, and was understood to be
within a month or so of college.

I cannot say that Althea's skirts, however much thought she had given
them, were long to-day. The only skirts she wore were the skirts of her
riding-coat. The rest of her was boots and trousers; and she carried a
little quirt with which she flecked the dust from her nethers, now and
again, rather smartly.

Albert looked--obviously envious, and obviously perturbed. His various
knockings from pillar to post had left him without horse and without
horsemanship. And here was a young feminine (almost a relative, in a
sense; well, was she, or was she not?) who was dressed as he (with some
slight differences) might have been dressed, and who was doing (or was
about to do) some of the things that he himself (as he was now keenly
conscious) had always hankered to do.... How was he to take it all?--the
difference, the likeness, the closeness, the distance....

And we--my wife and I--became suddenly, poignantly, even bitterly aware
that our Elsie, beside us in her tai