The eldest had black eyes and black curls;
the second soft brown eyes and soft brown curls to match; the third curls
of gold, as pretty as Prue's, and black eyes; the youngest blue eyes and
yellow curls. I never saw such a variety of beauty in one family. The
mother was at the washtub, the oldest daughter was ironing, the second
getting supper of potatoes and indian meal bread, the third beauty was
brushing the youngest beauty's hair. As I stood and looked at them I
thought, how many girls in this city would be vain if they owned their
eyes and hair, and how God had thrown the beauty down among them who had
no thought about it. He gives beauty to those who hate him and use it to
dishonor him, just as he gives money to those who spend it in sinning. I
almost think, that he holds cheaply those two things the world prizes so
highly; money and beauty."
After a moment Marjorie said: "I do not mean to live for the world."
"And you do not sigh for beauty?" smiled Miss Prudence.
"No, not really. But I do want to be something beside short and stout,
with my hair in a knot."
The fun in her eyes did not conceal the vexation.
"Miss Prudence, it's hard to care only for the things God cares about,"
she said, earnestly.
"Yes, very hard."
"I think _you_ care only for such things. You are not worldly one single
bit."
"I do not want to be--one single bit."
"I know you do give up things. But you have so much; you have the best
things. I don't want things you have given up.
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