"That comes from every one praising you so foolishly; you will be ruined!" he exclaimed.
"Mattie can have the beautiful soul, and I will have the beautiful body," retorted Doris. "Monsieur D'Anvers says wisdom is the best gift, the gift for kings. I say beauty is the best gift, the gift for queens; and queens have always ruled kings."
Mark shook his head. It is hard labor to rear an eagle in a sparrow's nest.
"Mother," said Doris, one day, when she was twelve, "this shall not go on longer—I'm sick of it."
"What, my child? Of what are you sick?"
"Of the village, of the farm, of our way of living. I hate it. If I am kept here longer I know I shall run away."
"My dear, are we not good to you?"
"Oh, yes, you are good, of course; but it is not goodness I want; it is change; I want something new—some more style."
"But how and where, Doris?"
"Send me to boarding-school. I want to know more of the way ladies do and live. We see no one here. If Mattie does not want to go, I ought not to be kept home. I have learned all Monsieur D'Anvers knows. I talk French and German as fast as he does—we go over the same old things."