“And what about that?” I said.
“You are so much better-looking.”
I felt myself flushing.
“I wish you wouldn’t laugh at me, Hermione. It isn’t kind. I can’t help being plain.”
“No,” said Hermione, putting her head a little on one side. “Nothing will ever give you remarkably good eyes, or much of a nose, or anything special of a mouth; but you have got a complexion now, and your cheeks have filled out.”
“Oh, I was always fat,” I said.
“Well, but they look different,” she said; “I can’t tell why.”
I knew, but I would not enlighten her. I knew that it was the excellent food that I now had, and the warm rooms to live in, and the good influence of a comfortable home. I was not going to betray myself, however.
“You must be having a jolly time,” said Hermione. “Oh! if anything were to give me a step-mother, I should pine and long for a sort of Grace Donnithorne.”
“She is a dear,” I said.