your time!" and her eyes filled with tears.

"I am seventeen," I returned, with an odd little choke in my voice,
for I could have cried with her readily at that moment. "That is
quite a great age, mother; I feel terribly old, I assure you."

"You are our dear, unselfish Esther," she returned, lovingly. Dear
soul, she always thought the best of us all, and my heart swelled how
proudly, and oh! how gratefully, when she told me in her sweet gentle
way what a comfort I was to her.

"You are so reliable, Esther," she went on, "that we all look to you
as though you were older. You must be Uncle Geoffrey's favorite, I
think, from the way he talks about you. Carrie is very sweet and good
too, but she is not so practical."

"Oh, mother, she is ever so much better than I!" I cried, for I
could not bear the least disparagement of my darling Carrie. "Think
how pretty she is, and how little she cares for dress and admiration.
If I were like that," I added, flushing a little over my words, "I'm
afraid I should be terribly vain."

Mother smiled a little at that.

"Be thankful then that you are saved that temptation." And then she
stroked my hot cheek and went on softly: "Don't think so much about
your looks, child; plain women are just as vain as pretty ones. Not
that you are plain, Esther, in my eyes, or in the eyes of any one who
loves you." But even that did not quite comfort me, for in my secret
heart my want of beauty troubled me sadly. There, I have owned the