He was only a man; and though intelligent enough to manage the trunks, and proceed in a straight line to Indiana, still he was incapable of understanding when a young lady's hat was put on straight, and had once made the rosette come behind! In view of these short-comings of her parent and her own adroitness at the toilet, Dotty came to the conclusion that she was not, strictly speaking, under any one's charge, but was taking care of herself.
"I wonder," thought she, "how many people there are in this car that know I'm going out West!" She sat up very primly, and looked around.

The faces were nearly all new to her.
"That woman in the next seat, how homely her little girl is, with freckles all over her face! Perhaps her mother wishes she was as white as I am.

Why, who is that pretty little girl close to my father ?" Dotty was looking straight forward, and had accidentally caught a peep at her own face in the mirror.
"Why, it's me! How nice I look!" smiling and nodding at the pleasant picture.
"Sit up like a lady, Dotty, and you'll look very polite, and very _style_ too." Florence Eastman said so much about "style" that Miss Dimple had adopted the word, though she was never know to use it correctly.

I am sorry to say there was a deal of foolish vanity in the child's heart.

Thoughtless people had so often spoken to her of her beauty, that she was inclined to dwell upon the theme secretly, and to admire her bright eyes in the glass.
"Yes, I do look very _style_," she decided, after another self-satisfied nod.