I didn't want my family to know--kind Alec, the arrogant twins, pretty Ruth, and Father who used to be so proud of me--I didn't want them to know what a poor little Cinderella I was. When I went home I wanted every one to think I had had a glorious time at school, as all girls do. I wanted my family to open their eyes and say, "My, how you're changed!" and every one at church to whisper when I came in a little late, "There's Lucy Vars home! Hasn't she grown up?" I wanted Dr. Maynard to raise his hat to me when he met me on the street, and call me Miss Vars. I wanted Juliet to gaze at me with envy. If there was any real silver underneath the tarnish on me I was bound it should shine when I went home at Christmas. And so it happened that I made up my mind that if I couldn't make friends with my new schoolmates I could at least learn something from them. I used to observe them very carefully and jot down important points in my memory. Even the things that I derided to their faces, I meant to copy when I went home. My brain became a regular copybook of rules. "My skirts," I recorded, "should be below my shoe-tops, not above. "The way to keep a waist down, is to fasten it with a safety-pin behind and a long black steel pin in front. "My nails should be as shining as a dinner-plate. "A shining face is not supposed to be pretty. "Powder is used to remove shine, and isn't wicked like rouge. "Girls of seventeen use hairpins and rats, and keep their hats on with hatpins instead of elastics. "Mohair and gingham underskirts and Ferris waists are not worn by girls of seventeen. "Huge taffeta bows underneath the chin, on the hair, or anywhere in fact, is the rubber-stamp for a girl of my age. "Automobiles, actors, college football, and allowances are popular subjects for conversation. "Don't break crackers into your soup. "Don't butter a whole slice of bread. "Don't cut up all your meat before beginning to eat." I used to watch Gabriella dress like a hawk. She had lots of clever little tricks, like pinning up her pompadour to the brim of her hat, or rubbing her cheeks with a hair-brush to make them rosy. She used to put a little cologne just back of her ears, which I thought very queer, and she was forever asking me if I could see light through her hair. Every week she gave her face what she called a cold-cream bath. She said her mother always did, after riding in the automobile.