SUCCESS "I declare you're real pretty to-night, honey," remarked Miss Polly from the floor, where she knelt pinning up the hem of a black serge skirt she was making for Gabriella.

"Some days you're downright plain, and then you flame out just like a lamp.

Nobody would ever think to look at you that you'd be thirty-seven years old to-morrow." For it was the evening before Gabriella's birthday, and she was at the end of her thirty-sixth year.
"I feel young," she answered brightly, "and I feel happy.

The children are well, and I've had all the success I could ask.

Some day I'm going to own Madame's business, Miss Polly." "I reckon she's gettin' mighty old, ain't she ?" "She gave up the work years ago, and I believe she'd be glad to sell out to me to-morrow if I had the money.
"I wish you had.