he clerk for the photographs and made her arrangements
with him as to the desired size and style, Marjorie busied herself with
looking around and scanning the different faces she saw.

"There!" she thought; "what for, do you s'pose, have I got to wait for
that baby to have its picture taken? Nothing but an ugly mite of a
thing, anyway! I should n't guess it was more than a day old, from the
way it wiggles its eyes about. I wonder if its mother thinks it's a
nice baby? Anyhow, I should think I might have my picture taken first.
And that hump-backed boy! Guess I have a right to go in before him!
He 's not pretty one bit. What a lovely frock that young lady has
on,--all fluffy and white, with lace and things! She keeps looking in
the glass all the time, so I guess she knows she 's pretty. When I am
a young lady I 'll be prettier than she is, though, for my hair is
goldener than hers, and my eyes are brown, and hers are nothing, but
plain blue. I heard a gentleman say the other day I had 'a rare style
of beauty,' he did n't know I heard (he was talking to Mamma, and he
thought I had gone away, but I had n't). I 'm glad I have 'a rare
style of beauty,' and I 'm glad my father 's rich, so I can have lovely
clothes and-- Seems to me any one ought to see that I 'm prettier than
that old lady over there; she 's all bent over and wrinkled, and when
she talks her voice is all kind of trembly, and her eyes are as dim--
But she 'll go in before me just the same, and I 'll get tireder and
tireder, until I-- Mamma, won't you come over to that sofa, and put
your arm around me so I can rest? I 'm as sleepy as I can be; and by
the time all these folks get done being _taken_, I 'll be dead, I
s'pose. _Do_ come!"

Her mother permitted herself to be led to the opposite side of the
room, where a large lounge stood, and seating herself upon it, took her
little daughter within the circle of her arm; whereupon Marjorie
commenced complaining of the injustice of these "homely" people being
given the advantage over her pretty self.

"Oh, Marjorie, Marjorie!" whispered her mother, "what a very foolish
little girl you are! I think it would take a miracle to make you see
aright. Don't you know that that dear baby is very, very sick, and
that probably its sad little mother has brought it here to have its
picture taken, so that if it should be called away from her, she might
have something to gaze at that looked like her precious litt