They soon ran off, all four, to see their friends and acquaintances
and learn the news of the school. I was left alone, making my
arrangement of clothes and things in my drawer and my corner of the
closet; and I found that some disturbance, in those few moments, had
quite disarranged the thoughts of my heart. They were peaceful enough
before. There was some confusion now. I could not at first tell what
was uppermost; only that St. Clair's words were those that most
returned to me. "She has changed." _Had_ I changed? or was I going to
change? was I going to enter the lists of fashion with my young
companions, and try who would win the race? No doubt my mother could
dress me better than almost any of their mothers could dress them;
what then? would this be a triumph? or was this the sort of name and
notoriety that became and befitted a servant of Jesus? I could not
help my dresses being pretty; no, but I could help making much display
of them. I could wear my own school plaid when the weather grew
cooler; and one or two others of my wardrobe were all I need show.
"Style is more than a face." No doubt. What _then?_ Did I want style
and a face too? Was I wishing to confound St. Clair? Was I escaping
already from that bond and a mark of a Christian--"The world knoweth
us not?" I was startled and afraid. I fell down on my knees by the
side of my bed, and tried to look at the matter as God looked at it.
And the Daisy I thought he would be pleased with, was one who ran no
race for worldly supremacy. I resolved she should not. The praise of
God, I thought, was far better than the praise of men.

My mind was quite made up when I rose from my knees; but I looked
forward to a less quiet school term than the last had been. Something
told me that the rest of the girls would take me up now, for good and
for evil. My Paris dress set me in a new position, no longer beneath
their notice. I was an object of attention. Even that first evening I
felt the difference.

"Daisy, when is your mother coming home?" "Oh, she is gone to China;
Daisy's mother is gone to China!"--"She'll bring you lots of queer
things, won't she?"--"What a sweet dress!"--"_That_ didn't come from
China?"--"Daisy, who's head in mathematics, you or St. Clair? I hope
you will get before her!"

"Why?" I ventured to ask.

"Oh, you're the best of the two; everybody knows that. But St. Clair
is smart, isn't she?"

"She thinks she is," answered another speaker; "she bel