Even while Clarence was still sneering at Kilo as a sidetrack village, Kilo had begun to sneer at Clarence as a played-out crossroads settlement.

Clarence, when Mrs.Tarbro-Smith visited it, was no more typical of middle Iowa than a sunfish really resembles the sun.
In Clarence Mrs.Smith's best loved and best loving admirer was Susan, daughter of her hostess, and, to Mrs.Smith, Susan was the long sought and impossible--a good maid.

From the first Susan had attached herself to Mrs.Smith, and, for love and two dollars a week, she learned all that a lady's maid should know.

When Mrs.Smith asked her if she would like to go to New York, Susan jumped up and down and clapped her hands.
Susan was as sweet and lovable as she was useful, and under Mrs.Smith's care she had been transformed into such a thing of beauty that Clarence could hardly recognize her.

Instead of tow-colored hair, crowded back by means of a black rubber comb, Susan had been taught a neat arrangement of her blonde locks--so great is the magic of a few deft touches.
Instead of being a gawky girl of seventeen, in a faded blue calico wrapper, Susan, as transformed by one of Mrs.Smith's simple white gowns, was a young lady.