ieves she's at
the tip-top of creation; but she never had such a pretty dress on as
that in her days; and she knows it and she don't like it. It's real
fun to see St. Clair beat; she thinks she is so much better than other
girls, and she has such a way of twisting that upper lip of hers. Do
you know how St. Clair twists her upper lip? Look!--she's doing it
now."

"She's handsome though, ain't she?" said Miss Macy. "She'll be
beautiful."

"No," said Mlle. Genevieve; "not that. Never that. She will be
handsome; but beauty is a thing of the soul. _She_ will not be
beautiful. Daisy, are you going to work hard this year?"

"Yes, mademoiselle."

"I believe you," she said, taking my face between her two hands and
kissing it.

"Whoever saw Mlle. Genevieve do that before!" said Miss Macy, as the
other left us. "She is not apt to like the scholars."

I knew she had always liked me. But everybody had always liked me, I
reflected; this time at school was the first of my knowing anything
different. And in this there now came a change. Since my wearing and
using the Paris things sent to me by my mother, which I dared not fail
to use and wear, I noticed that my company was more sought in the
school. Also my words were deferred to, in a way they had not been
before. I found, and it was not an unpleasant thing, that I had grown
to be a person of consequence. Even with the French and English
teachers; I observed that they treated me with more consideration. And
so I reflected within myself again over Dr. Sandford's observation,
"_L'habit, c'est l'homme._" Of course it was a consideration given to
my clothes, a consideration also to be given up if I did not wear such
clothes. I saw all that. The world _knew me_, just for the moment.

Well, the smooth way was very pleasant. I had it with everybody for a
time.

My little room-mate and classmate St. Clair was perhaps the only
exception to the general rule. I never felt that she liked me much.
She let me alone, however; until one unlucky day--I do not mean to
call it unlucky, either--when we had, as usual, compositions to write,
and the theme given out was "Ruins." It was a delightful theme to me.
I did not always enjoy writing compositions; this one gave me
permission to roam in thoughts and imaginations that I liked. I went
back to my old Egyptian studies at Magnolia, and wrote my composition
about "Karnak." The subject was full in my memory; I had gone over and
over and all thr