d Sophy, and moved over a bit on the little French
settee.

The plump woman sat down heavily. In five minutes Sophy was conscious
she was being stared at surreptitiously. In ten minutes she was
uncomfortably conscious of it. In eleven minutes she turned her head
suddenly and caught the stout woman's eyes fixed on her, with just the
baffled, speculative expression she had expected to find in them. Sophy
Gold had caught that look in many women's eyes. She smiled grimly now.

"Don't try it," she said, "It's no use."

The pink, plump face flushed pinker.

"Don't try--"

"Don't try to convince yourself that if I wore my hair differently, or
my collar tighter, or my hat larger, it would make a difference in my
looks. It wouldn't. It's hard to believe that I'm as homely as I look,
but I am. I've watched women try to dress me in as many as eleven mental
changes of costume before they gave me up."

"But I didn't mean--I beg your pardon--you mustn't think--"

"Oh, that's all right! I used to struggle, but I'm used to it now. It
took me a long time to realise that this was my real face and the only
kind I could ever expect to have."

The plump woman's kindly face grew kinder.

"But you're really not so--"

"Oh, yes, I am. Upholstering can't change me. There are various kinds of
homely women--some who are hideous in blue maybe, but who soften up in
pink. Then there's the one you read about, whose features are lighted up
now and then by one of those rare, sweet smiles that make her plain face
almost beautiful. But once in a while you find a woman who is ugly in
any colour of the rainbow; who is ugly smiling or serious, talking or in
repose, hair down low or hair done high--just plain dyed-in-the-wool,
sewed-in-the-seam homely. I'm that kind. Here for a visit?"

"I'm a buyer," said the plump woman.

"Yes; I thought so. I'm the lingerie and infants'-wear buyer for Schiff,
Chicago."

"A buyer!" The plump woman's eyes jumped uncontrollably again to Sophy
Gold's scrambled features. "Well! My name's Miss Morrissey--Ella
Morrissey. Millinery for Abelman's, Pittsburgh. And it's no snap this
year, with the shops showing postage-stamp hats one day and cart-wheels
the next. I said this morning that I envied the head of the tinware
department. Been over often?"

Sophy made the shamefaced confession of the novice: "My first trip."

The inevitable answer came:

"Your first! Really! This is my twentieth crossing. Been coming ov