"But, my dear, you must not let idle words hurt you so much. There are plenty of them always flying about, and if we let them sting us every time they come near, we might as well live in a wasps' nest."
"If they had not been true, I would not have minded," said Amity. "But it is all so. I am just what Aunt Julia called me, and I shall never be anything else. Even 'a Dutch doll' is good to play with, and I am not that."
"Are you sure?" asked Mrs. Paget.
"Every one says so," answered Amity.
"How many is 'every one'? I am sure your grandfather never said so."
"No: grandpapa is so polite he would never hurt any one's feelings; but I am sure he is disappointed because I don't look like his family. I suppose when I am of age I shall have ever so much money, and perhaps I can do some good with that," continued Amity, who somehow felt as if it would be a comfort to tell all her thoughts to her new friend. "But I don't think it is always easy to do good with money either."
"Very true and besides, you would have a good while to wait. Eleven years is a long time to live in the world without doing any good in it; don't you think so?"
"Yes, ma'am," answered Amity, slowly. "I don't know what I can do though. It is just as Aunt Julia says: I have no talent. I don't like music, at least I don't care about any but hymn tunes, and such like. I can't draw one bit—not even a straight line."
"Few people can the first time they try," said Mrs. Paget.
"And I am very slow about learning," continued Amity, "especially French. I can't catch the sounds somehow, and I hate the sound of it. It is just like a wagon rattling over a rough road."