“Not if you keep taking long breaths to hold it on. That is what I want you to do, and when you have filled this out we will go on enlarging it till your waist is more like that of Hebe, goddess of health, and less like that of a fashion-plate the ugliest thing imaginable.” “How it does look!” and Rose gave a glance of scorn at the loose belt hanging round her trim little waist. “It will be lost, and then I shall feel badly, for it cost ever so much, and is real steel and Russia leather. Just smell how nice.” “If it is lost I'll give you a better one. A soft silken sash is much fitter for a pretty child like you than a plated harness like this; and I've got no end of Italian scarfs and Turkish sashes among my traps. Ah! that makes you feel better, doesn't it?” and he pinched the cheek that had suddenly dimpled with a smile. “It is very silly of me, but I can't help liking to know that” here she stopped and blushed and held down her head, ashamed to add, “you think I am pretty.” Dr. Alec's eyed twinkled, but he said very soberly, “Rose, are you vain?” “I'm afraid I am,” answered a very meek voice from behind the veil of hair that hid the red face. “That is a sad fault.” And he sighed as if grieved at the confession. “I know it is, and I try not to be; but people praise me, and I can't help liking it, for I really don't think I am repulsive.” The last word and the funny tone in which it was uttered were too much for Dr. Alec, and he laughed in spite of himself, to Rose's great relief. “I quite agree with you; and in order that you may be still less repulsive, I want you to grow as fine a girl as Phebe.” “Phebe!” and Rose looked so amazed that her uncle nearly went off again. “Yes, Phebe; for she has what you need health. If you dear little girls would only learn what real beauty is, and not pinch and starve and bleach yourselves out so, you'd save an immense deal of time and money and pain. A happy soul in a healthy body makes the best sort of beauty for man or woman. Do you understand that, my dear?” “Yes, sir,” answered Rose, much taken down by this comparison with the girl from the poor-house. It nettled her sadly, and she showed that it did by saying quickly, “I suppose you would like to have me sweep and scrub, and wear an old brown dress, and go round with my sleeves rolled up, as Phebe does?” “I should very much, if you could work as well as she does, and show as strong a pair of arms as she can. I haven't seen a prettier picture for some time than she made of herself this morning, up to the elbows in suds, singing like a blackbird whilst she scrubbed on the back stoop.” “Well, I do think you are the queerest man that ever lived!” was all Rose could find to say after this display of bad taste.