Sara Ray was beginning to feel worried over her looks.

I heard her and Cecily talking over their troubles one evening while I was weeding the onion bed and they were behind the hedge knitting lace.

I did not mean to eavesdrop.
I supposed they knew I was there until Cecily overwhelmed me with indignation later on.
"I'm so afraid, Cecily, that I'm going to be homely all my life," said poor Sara with a tremble in her voice.

"You can stand being ugly when you are young if you have any hope of being better looking when you grow up.

But I'm getting worse.