“It is n't the mere fact of being a beauty that makes women popular,” she would say; “it's the being able to persuade people that you are one,--or better than one. Don't some historians tell us that Cleopatra had red hair and questionable eyes, and yet she managed to blind the world so completely, that no one is sure whether it is true or not, and to this day the generality of people are inclined to believe that it was her supernatural beauty that dragged Marc Antony to the dust at her feet.” Aimée's face was more nearly perfect than Dolly's; Mollie's was more imposing, child as she was; 'Toinette threw her far into the shade in the matter of statuesque splendor; but still it was Dolly who did all the difficult things, and had divers tragic adventures with questionable adorers, whose name was legion, and who were a continual source of rejoicing and entertainment to the family. Having tossed hat and shawl on to the table, among the manuscript music, paint-brushes, and palettes, this young person slipped into the most comfortable chair near the fire, and, having waited for the rest to seat themselves, proceeded to open the council. Mollie, who was sixteen, large, fair, beautiful, and not as tidy as she might have been, dropped into a not ungraceful position at her feet. Aimée, who was a little maiden with a tender, _spirituelle_ face, and all the forethought of the family, sat near, with some grave perplexity in her expression. 'Toinette and Tod, _posed_ in the low nursery-chair,--the girl's firm, white arm flung around the child,--swung lightly to and fro, fit models for an artist. “You would make a first-class picture,--the lot of you,” commented Phil, amicably. “Never mind the picture,” said Mollie, drawing her disreputable slippers up under her wrapper. “We want to hear how Dolly thinks of going to the Bilberrys'. Oh, Dolly, how heavenly it would be if you had a turquoise-blue sat--” “Heavenly!” interrupted Dolly. “I should think so. Particularly celestial for Lady Augusta, who looks mahogany-colored in it, and peculiarly celestial for a poor relation from Vagabondia. It would be as much as my reputation was worth. She would never forgive me. You must learn discretion, Mollie.” “There is some consolation in knowing you can't get it,” said 'Toinette. “You won't be obliged to deny yourself or be indiscreet. But what _are_ you going to wear, Dolly?” “That is for the council to decide,” Dolly returned. “First, we must settle on what we want, and then we must settle on the way to get it.” “Other people go the other way about it,” said Aimée. “If we were only rich!” said Mollie. “But it is a most glaringly patent fact that we are not,” said Dolly. “There is one thing certain, however,--it must be white.” “A simple white muslin,” suggested 'Toinette, struggling in the grasp of the immortal Tod,--“a simple white muslin, with an equally simple wild flower in your hair, _à la_ Amanda Fitzallan. How the Dowager Bilberry _would_ like that.”