"She isn't," interrupted Kittie, with much energy. "I think she has beautiful eyes, if she just wouldn't scowl so much, and when she laughs her mouth and teeth are just as pretty, only she never laughs more'n once a month, so people don't know it. Not one of us has such lovely thick hair as she has, and if she just would wave or crimp it a little bit in front, I think--well, I think she would be real pretty." And overcome with this valuable earnest defence, Kittie sat down and looked complacent. "When I see Olive Dering crimping her hair, and laughing instead of scowling, I will look for the end of the world," said Ernestine, with some asperity, as she walked over to the glass and surveyed her own hair, which Kittie had intimated was inferior to Olive's. "She can't do it, she was made to frown and stay by herself and she better do it." "You don't mean it, Ernestine, you know you don't," said Bea, in a tone of calm conviction, and beginning to feel that the duties of elder sister imposed a warmer defense of this abused one, upon her. "I want to tell you how I feel, though it may be nothing as you all do. I really believe Olive thinks we do not want her, because, for so long time lately, we have just let her alone, and she always goes----" "None of us ever receive a special invitation to join this circle," interrupted Kat, briskly. "Why should she?" "I don't know, but she is so strange," answered Bea, rather helplessly, but not giving up. "And because she is so, we have sort a' stayed together and let her alone. When we used to try to get her to go with us, I think she always refused, because she thought she was ugly, and we did not try long enough to overcome this feeling, and now she imagines we don't want her." "Stuff," persisted Kat, "I wouldn't act that way if I was as ugly as a wilted pumpkin and cross-eyed. What's the use?" "None," promptly responded Beatrice. "But if you were like her, very likely you'd feel as she does." "Catch me," laughed Kat, jumping up and making a scornful spin on her heel. "What do you say, Kittie?" "I had my say a minute ago," answered Kittie, who was evidently thinking out something over the flames. "I wonder what makes her hate Uncle Ridley so?" was Ernestine's query, as she turned from the glass, having satisfied herself that Kittie was certainly wrong about Olive's hair. "I never could imagine," answered Bea, with evident curiosity. "She won't call him, uncle, and the dress he sent her is in mama's room, and Olive says, she'll never wear it." "May be she would give it me," suggested Kat. "I think hers was prettier than any of the rest." "Well, I don't," said Ernestine, taking exceptions to this remark also. "Why hers is black?" "I'm perfectly aware of that, also, that yours is purple, Bea's brown, mine and Kittie's grey; tell me something I don't know," said Kat flippantly. "I wish ours were black, it's so stylish."