When I was a girl of eighteen years old, I was as handsome as handsome could be; I was taught to expect wit, wisdom and gold, And nothing else would do for me--for me. And nothing else would do for me. The first was a youth any girl might adore, And as ardent as lovers should be; But mamma having heard the young man was quite poor, Why, he wouldn't do for me--for me, Why, he wouldn't do for me. None of the many verses describing the various lovers of the scornful young lady made so deep an impression on the children as the opening lines, in which she was said to be "as handsome as handsome could be;" and Ernest, who was a literal little fellow, said to Kate, when they were out of Miss Chatterwits' hearing: "Now, do you think that homely people were ever handsome once upon a time?" Now, Kate could never be made to call Miss Chatterwits homely. Indeed, one day, in a burst of gratitude, when the latter had lent the child her watch to wear for an hour or two, the little girl exclaimed: "Oh, Miss Chatterwits, you are very handsome!" "Nobody ever told me that before, Kate," said the old woman. Then, with the frankness that in later years often caused her to nullify the good impression made by some pretty speech, the child added: "I mean very handsome all but your face." What could be a clearer case of "handsome is what handsome does." [Illustration] VII. Mrs. Stuart Digby scarcely approved Kate's fondness for Miss Theodora and her friends. Stuart Digby had married two or three years before John, and was living in Paris when the Civil War broke out. His own impulse was to return at once and fight; but as his wife would not consent to this, they remained abroad until Ralph was ten years old and Kate four years younger. Both children at this time spoke French better than English, and Ralph for a long time disliked everything American--like his mother, who, not Boston born, professed little interest in things Bostonian. But in Kate Stuart Digby saw the enthusiasm which had marked his own youth, and he encouraged her in having ideals, only wishing that he had been true to his own. "Perhaps if I hadn't married so early," he would think--then, with a sigh, would wonder if, left to himself, he might possibly have amounted to something. For Stuart Digby was not nearly as self-satisfied as the chance observer supposed.