"Remarkable selections for a miss," said the clerk.
"Do you really think so?" cried Lilly, herself turning away from an
inclination toward the more chromatic and immediately exhilarated out of
a state of fatigue.
"Zoe, you're wonderful!"
"You're wonderful, too, Lilly."
There had been scarcely any baby talk.
At three, it was "Zoe, are you happy to see mother this week-end?"
"Ees, ummie."
And then one day out of the pellucid sky of babyhood, in answer to this
invariable query, it was:
"Yes, Lilly," so suddenly that something seemed to catch at her
heartbeat, but after a pang she let it stand.
Let Lilly's Zoe dawn upon you through this rather typical conversation
between them, the night before the graduation from grade school:
"Lilly, am I beautiful?"
"Why, yes, Zoe, so long as you remain fine and unspoiled by it. That is
the rarest kind of loveliness--inner beauty."
"I don't mean that kind. Am I pretty--for boys to look at?"
"You are pretty enough as little girls go, if that is what you mean."
"Is it wrong to have beaus?"
"That all depends. Why?"
"Oh, I just wanted to know.
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