"You don't!" cried Darsie, and blushed, a deep guilty blush. "I _do_! Costume for Sunday, and the question of possibly squeezing out three or four shillings to buy an extra bit of frippery to add to your charms!" "Boo!" cried Darsie impatiently; then with a sudden change of front: "And if I _was_, I was perfectly right! Newnham girls are not half careful enough about their appearance, and it tells against the cause. A perfect woman, nobly planned, ought to be as clever as she is--er-- dainty, and as dainty as she is clever." "Thank you for the concession! Very considerate of you, I'm sure. If you had stuck to `beautiful,' I should have been hopelessly left out. Even `dainty' is beyond me, I'm afraid; but I'll promise you to be neat and tidy, and saints can do no more--if they happen to have been born _plain_ saints, that's to say!" Hannah stood in front of the mirror, staring back at her flat, square face with an expression of serenely detached criticism. "If you are the beauty of this college, I run a close race for the booby prize! Bit of a handicap that, if you care about popularity. This Sunday afternoon now! they'll all be buzzing round you like so many flies, while I do wallflower in a corner. Nonsense to say that looks don't count! So far as I can see, the difference between your face and mine will probably make the difference in our lives. You'll marry a lord of high degree, and I'll school marm and be maiden aunt." "Oh, Hannah!" Darsie was acutely discomfited by such words from Hannah's lips. True they were spoken in matter-of-fact tones, and without the suspicion of a whine, but as the first instance of anything approaching a lament, the occasion was historic. "Oh, Hannah, dear-- it's only at first! After the first no one cares a rap _what_ you look like, so long as you're nice." "Fal-de-ral!" cried Hannah scornfully. "Of course they care! Any one would--should myself, but you needn't look so hang-dog, my dear. It's not _your_ fault, and I am quite comfortable, thank you. If any man ever wants to marry me, I'll know jolly well that it's for myself, and that he really loves me through and through. There isn't any of the glamour business about this child to make him imagine that he cares, when it's only a passing phase. And if it's my lot to live alone, I'll back myself to be as happy as most wives I come across. It's my own big, splendid life, and I'm going to _make_ it splendid, or know the reason why!" Hannah struck a dramatic gesture, danced a few fancy steps in an elephantine manner, and stumped towards, the door. "So be it, then! We accept with pleasure, and I'll leave you to trim your hat."