"Because—you won't mind? I am your cousin, you know!—because your necktie is so often crooked. It is crooked now; a little more to the right! that's it! And—and you ought to brush that spot off your coat. Now, if you made it a point always to look in the glass before leaving your room—"
"Is that one of the sides you want me to develop?" asked Jack slowly. "Caring about dress, and looks, and that sort of thing? I didn't know you were of that kind, Hildegarde."
"Of what kind?" cried our heroine, blushing furiously in her turn, and feeling that she was in great danger of losing her temper. "I certainly do care about my dress and looks, as every one ought to do. Suppose the next time you came to tea, you found me with my hair tumbling down, and a great spot of ink on my gown, and my ruffles torn! Is that the kind of person you like to see? I always thought Herrick's Julia was a most untidy young woman, with her shoe-strings, and her 'erring lace' and all."
"I don't know who she is," said Jack meekly. "But I beg your pardon if I was rude, Hilda; and—and I will try to 'spruce up,' as Uncle Tom is always trying to make me. You see," he added shyly, "when you look in the glass you see something nice, and I don't!"
"Nonsense!" said Hildegarde, promptly. "And then, Jack—that is only one thing, of course. But if you had the habit of using your eyes! Oh! you don't know what a difference it would make. I know, because I used to be as blind as you are. I never looked at anything till about two years ago. And now—of course I am only learning still, and shall be learning all my life, I hope; but—well, I do see things more or less. For example, what do you see at our feet here?"
"Grass!" said Jack, peering about. "Green grass. Do you think I don't know that?"
Hildegarde laughed, and clapped her hands.
"Just what I should have said two years ago!" she cried. "There are twelve different plants that I know—I've been counting them—and several more that are new to me."
"Well, they're all green, anyhow!" said Jack. "What's the difference?"
Hildegarde scorned a direct reply, but went on, being now mounted on her own hobby.