wonder what her elbows must be like.

She was very nicely dressed in a pink print and a frilled muslin
apron; and we understood, from something Dan said, that she had
"dressed up" in honour of our coming. This made us feel quite
important. So far as we knew, no feminine creatures had ever
gone to the pains of dressing up on our account before.

Cecily, who was eleven, was pretty also--or would have been had
Felicity not been there. Felicity rather took the colour from
other girls. Cecily looked pale and thin beside her; but she had
dainty little features, smooth brown hair of satin sheen, and
mild brown eyes, with just a hint of demureness in them now and
again. We remembered that Aunt Olivia had written to father that
Cecily was a true Ward--she had no sense of humour. We did not
know what this meant, but we thought it was not exactly
complimentary.

Still, we were both inclined to think we would like Cecily better
than Felicity. To be sure, Felicity was a stunning beauty. But,
with the swift and unerring intuition of childhood, which feels
in a moment what it sometimes takes maturity much time to
perceive, we realized that she was rather too well aware of her
good looks. In brief, we saw that Felicity was vain.

"It's a wonder the Story Girl isn't over to see you," said Uncle
Alec. "She's been quite wild with excitement about your coming."

"She hasn't been very well all day," explained Cecily, "and Aunt
Olivia wouldn't let her come out in the night air. She made her