She heard one woman say to another how pretty she was, "poor little thing," and her heart throbbed with satisfaction.

She felt at once beautiful and appealing to other people, because of her misfortunes.

She turned the chocolate carefully, and put some whipped-cream on top of each dainty cup; and, for the first time since her father's marriage, she was not consciously unhappy.

She glanced across the table at the other little girl, Amy Long, who was dark, and wore a pink bow on her hair, and she was sure that she herself was much prettier.

Then, too, Amy had not the sad distinction of having lost her mother, and having a step-mother thrust upon her in a year's time.