"Yes it was--worse, a great deal, than yours looks now. But that peep in
the glass did me good. I began to think how selfishly I was behaving,
and to desire to do better. And after that, when the pain came on, I
used to lie and keep my forehead smooth with my fingers, and try not to
let my face show what I was enduring. So by and by the wrinkles wore
away, and though I am a good deal older now, they have never come back.

"It was a great deal of trouble at first to have to think and plan to
keep my room and myself looking nice. But after a while it grew to be a
habit, and then it became easy. And the pleasure it gave my dear father
repaid for all. He had been proud of his active, healthy girl, but I
think she was never such a comfort to him as his sick one, lying there
in her bed. My room was his favorite sitting-place, and he spent so
much time there, that now the room, and everything in it, makes me
think of him."

There were tears in Cousin Helen's eyes as she ceased speaking. But Katy
looked bright and eager. It seemed somehow to be a help, as well as a
great surprise, that ever there should have been a time when Cousin
Helen was less perfect than she was now.

"Do you really think I could do so too?" she asked.

"Do what? Comb your hair?" Cousin Helen was smiling now.

"Oh no! Be nice and sweet and patient, and a comfort to people. You know
what I mean."

"I am sure you can, if you try."