They on their part rose up to do her homage; they bowed down and worshiped at beauty's shrine. And was she not most beautiful? "Beauty was hers in dower, such as earth Doth rarely reckon 'mid her fading things: A glory lit her tears, and in her mirth Shook the sweet laughter of translucent springs." Already an adept in coquetry, she sighed at once for a victim for her charms. Alas! she found him near. "Are there any new people?" she asked of Mattie. "Only Earle Moray." "Eh? A decent sounding name. Who is he?" "A poet and a gentleman," cried Mattie, enthusiastically. "A poet? Poets live, I understand, in garrets." "But Earle has some money," said Mattie, simply. "Earle? So? You seem to know him rather well." Poor Mattie blushed crimson. CHAPTER VIII. THE YOUNG COQUETTE. "For some had perished in her stern neglect-- Fell on the sword of their own hope and died; While she in triumph, scornfully erect, Swept o'er their ashes with the skirts of pride." Before returning to Brackenside, Doris had demanded a room for herself, and for this room certain furnishings. She did not know that Mark and Patty would say to each other: "It is only fair, since we have for her a hundred pounds a year;" but she did know that her will would be law to them. She brought with her, when she came back to the farm, many little adornments, purchases of her own, or gifts from her school friends; and these Mattie dutifully arranged for her, just as she had polished the windows and nailed down the carpet, and ironed the curtains before Doris came. Doris never thought of helping her. She perched herself, Turk fashion, on the foot of the bed, and issued her orders as a good-natured little mistress to her maid. There were knickknacks for the toilet-table, pictures for the wall, a little book-case of hanging shelves. "Your room will be fit for a princess, Doris," said Mattie. "For a princess!" said Doris, with scorn. "If I were half a princess, or only rich, I would clear out the rubbishy things at once. You might have them, Mattie, since you like them. I would have gold-mounted furnishings for my dressing-table, silk hangings, velvet carpets, upholstery in plush and satin, gold, white, pale-blue. I would have exquisite marbles, and pictures that cost a fortune each." "But you never saw such things," said Mattie. "No; only I have read of them, and find in myself a fitness for them. I would give _anything_ for such luxury." "Do not pine, dear, for what you can never have." "I may have it some day," said Doris, defiantly. "But how would you get it?" "By my beauty. The world belongs to beauty." Mattie was shocked. She was putting the books on the shelves, and her honest face clouded. She said to Doris: