She looked at herself in the glass, her eyes dancing, her cheeks flushed, her rosy lips apart.
"I am pretty," thought Rose.

"I like my own looks better than I do Kate's, and every one calls her beautiful.

I suppose her eyes are larger, and her nose more perfect, and her forehead higher; but it is too pale and cold.

Oh, if Reginald would only love me better than Kate!" She ran down-stairs as the last bell rang, eager and expectant, but only to be disappointed.

Grace was there; Eeny and Kate were there, and Sir Ronald Keith; but where were the rest?
"Where's papa ?" said Rose, taking her seat.
"Dining out," replied Kate, who looked pale and ill.