attention because of the Secret. I shall tell that last of all. Now it's
my own.

Is it true that I have longed for beauty more passionately than most
women; or is it only that I know myself, not the others? I can remember
the time, away back, when the longing began--when I was----

Incredible! Was I ever an ugly little girl, careless of my appearance,
happiest in a torn and dirty dress; and homely, homely, homely? Oh,
miracle! The miracle!

They say all girls begin life thus heedless of beauty; but none get far
along the road before they meet the need of it. So it was with me; and now
I love to recall every pitiful detail of the beginning of the Quest of
Beauty, the funny little tragedy of childhood that changed the current of
my life--and of your lives, all you women who read.

It was one day after school, in the old life that has closed forever--
after the prairie school, dull, sordid, uninspiring, away in the West--
that a playmate, Billy Reynolds, was testing upon me his powers of
teasing. I remember the grin of pleasure in his cruelty that wrinkled his
round, red face when at last he found the dart that stung. His words--ah,
they are no dream! They were the awakening, the prelude of to-day.

"Janey's prettier'n what you be," he said; and of a sudden I knew that it
was true, and felt that the knowledge nearly broke my heart.

But could there be any doubt of the proper reply?

"Huh!" I said, shrugging my lean shoulders. "I don't care!"