Once Theresa, fretting about her red-ended nose and muddy skin, had gone to a specialist.

"Let me see your foot," said he; and when he saw the heel, he exclaimed: "Cut that tight, high-heeled thing out or you'll never get a decent skin, and your eyes will trouble you by the time you are thirty." But Theresa, before adopting such drastic measures, went to a beauty doctor.

He assured her that she could be cured without the sacrifice of the heel, and that the weakness of her eyes would disappear a year or so after marriage.

And he was soon going into ecstasies over her improvement, over the radiance of her beauty.

She saw with his eyes and ceased to bother about nose or skin--they were the least beautiful of her beauties, but--"One can't expect to be absolutely perfect.