I was proud of myself, and was wont rather to strut than walk into the room upon my best kid shoes.

They were pink, to match my frock, and I was not a little vain of them.

There were usually some ladies in the room, dressed in rustling finery like my mother, but not like her in the face--never so pretty.

There were always plenty of gentlemen of the three degrees, and they used to be very polite to me, and to call me "little Rosebud," and give me sweetmeats.

I liked sweetmeats, and I liked flattery, but I had an affection stronger than my fancy for either.