"Is it not right to be proud of God's work and gifts?" "You have beauty enough to be a snare," said the doctor. "God gave me my beauty, and God is good, and does not set snares," said Doris, quickly, making Mark and the doctor laugh at her ready wit. "A beautiful body is nothing without a beautiful soul," said Mark, mindful of the letter saying, "Keep her soul white and pure." "I would rather have a beautiful body than a beautiful soul," said Doris, promptly. "Why, my dear?" demanded the good man, in amaze. "Because my body is where people can see it. Who can see my soul?" said Doris, scornful of her best possession. Mark was shocked. "That comes from every one praising you so foolishly; you will be ruined!" he exclaimed. "Mattie can have the beautiful soul, and I will have the beautiful body," retorted Doris. "Monsieur D'Anvers says wisdom is the best gift, the gift for kings. I say beauty is the best gift, the gift for queens; and queens have always ruled kings." Mark shook his head. It is hard labor to rear an eagle in a sparrow's nest. "Mother," said Doris, one day, when she was twelve, "this shall not go on longer--I'm sick of it." "What, my child? Of what are you sick?" "Of the village, of the farm, of our way of living. I hate it. If I am kept here longer I know I shall run away." "My dear, are we not good to you?" "Oh, yes, you are good, of course; but it is not goodness I want; it is change; I want something new--some more _style_." "But how and where, Doris?" "Send me to boarding-school. I want to know more of the way ladies do and live. We see no one here. If Mattie does not want to go, I ought not to be kept home. I have learned all Monsieur D'Anvers knows. I talk French and German as fast as he does--we go over the same old things." "That is true, mother," said Mattie. "Doris is a great scholar. I cannot go away from home; I don't want to; I love to stay and help you; but let Doris go." "I will ask your father," said Patty, hesitatingly. "And he'll say to let the child have her own way," said Doris, with a laugh. "Well, I must consult your father." "Consult my father!" said Doris, with wonderful scorn. She had a singular contempt for all about her, though no hint that she was other than the child of the Braces had been given her. She had her way; she went to a fashionable boarding-school. For her clothing and tuition honest Mark paid the entire hundred pounds each year. She elected to visit schoolmates at vacation, and for four years Brackenside Farm knew no more of the golden-haired mystery. At sixteen she came home again, beautiful as a fairy, ripe for mischief, mad for display--a tireless reader of French novels. She looked about that home of rustic goodness, and covert scorn dwelt in the violet eyes and sat lightly on the chiseled lips; her parents were "so plain," her sister Mattie "a country simpleton."