[CHAPTER XIII.]
ETHEL'S KETTLEDRUM.
Not long after this, "homely Miss Pike" sat by the window in the back parlor, drawing her thread in and out, in and out, of a piece of pretty pink silk. Little Kittyleen, who had returned from Washington, and as usual spent most of her time at Dr. Gray's, had been lying on the rug, gazing up wonderingly at Miss Pike's large, wide mouth.
At last she broke forth suddenly, as if thinking aloud,—
"Most everybody has whiskers, don't they, Miss Pike?"
"Why, have I any whiskers, Kittyleen?"
"No'm; but you've got some growing."
Miss Pike laughed softly to herself. She had always known she was very plain, and of course she was aware of the rather thick, dark beard on her upper lip. Kittyleen's little speech amused her, and yet the tears sprang to her eyes.
"If I had had my way about it," thought she, "I should have had a form like this perfect wax doll I am dressing, and very much such a pink and white face, with wavy, soft hair, the color of old gold; sweet, red lips, straight nose, not a spot or a freckle anywhere. Then the whole world would have admired me, and I fancy it might be pleasant to be admired.
"Ah, but the One who made me knew what is best! If I can't be beautiful, I can try to be good; and I'm not going to cry about my homely body, for I'm sure to leave it behind me one of these days when I'm called up to Heaven."