she had money. She considered beauty on the
whole as a more valuable asset than mere gold.
She regretted always that poor little Amelia, her
only grandchild, was so very plain-looking. She
always knew that Amelia was very plain, and yet
sometimes the child puzzled her. She seemed to see
reflections of beauty, if not beauty itself, in the
little colorless face, in the figure, with its too-large
joints and utter absence of curves. She sometimes
even wondered privately if some subtle resemblance
to the handsome Wheelers might not be in the child
and yet appear. But she was mistaken. What she
saw was pure mimicry of a beautiful ideal.

Little Amelia tried to stand like Lily Jennings;
she tried to walk like her; she tried to smile like
her; she made endeavors, very often futile, to dress
like her. Mrs. Wheeler did not in the least approve
of furbelows for children. Poor little Amelia went
clad in severe simplicity; durable woolen frocks in
winter, and washable, unfadable, and non-soil-show-
ing frocks in summer. She, although her mother had
perhaps more money wherewith to dress her than had
any of the other mothers, was the plainest-clad little
girl in school. Amelia, moreover, never tore a frock,
and, as she did not grow rapidly, one lasted several
seasons. Lily Jennings was destructive, although
dainty. Her pretty clothes were renewed every
year. Amelia was helpless before that problem.
For a little girl burning with aspirations to be and