lete. Then she came
and stood in front of the cheap little glass, and surveyed herself. There
were blisters in the glass that twisted her head into a grotesque shape.
The hairpins stuck into her head. Lizzie had tied a spotted veil tight
over her nose and eyes. The collar of the silk waist was frayed, and cut
her neck. The skirt-band was too tight, and the gloves were torture.
Elizabeth turned slowly, and went down-stairs, past the admiring aunt and
grandmother, who exclaimed at the girl's beauty, now that she was attired
to their mind, and encouraged her by saying they were sure her grandmother
would want to do something for so pretty a girl.

Lizzie called out to her not to worry, as she flew for her car. She said
she had heard there was a variety show in town where they wanted a girl
who could shoot. If she didn't succeed with her grandmother, they would
try and get her in at the show. The girls at the store knew a man who had
charge of it. They said he liked pretty girls, and they thought would be
glad to get her. Indeed, Mary James had promised to speak to him last
night, and would let her know to-day about it. It would likely be a job
more suited to her cousin's liking.

Elizabeth shuddered. Another man! Would he be like all the rest?--all the
rest save one!

She walked a few steps in the direction she had been told to go, and then
turned resolutely around, and came back. The watching grandmother felt her
heart sink. What was this headstrong girl going to do next? Rebel again?

"What's the matter, Bessie?" she asked, meeting her anxiously at the door.
"It's bad luck to turn back when you've started."

"I can't go this way," said the girl excitedly. "It's all a cheat. I'm not
like this. It isn't mine, and I'm not going in it. I must have my own
clothes and be myself when I go to see her. If she doesn't like me and
want me, then I can take Robin and go back." And like another David
burdened with Saul's armor she came back to get her little sling and
stones.

She tore off the veil, and the sticky gloves from her cold hands, and all
the finery of silk waist and belt, and donned her old plain blue coat and
skirt in which she had arrived in Philadelphia. They had been frugally
brushed and sponged, and made neat for a working dress. Elizabeth felt
that they belonged to her. Under the jacket, which fortunately was long
enough to hide her waist, she buckled her belt with the two pistols. Then
she took the battered ol