"My dear," said Mrs. White, "I do hope you have enjoyed yourself," and
she kissed her again. "But you must promise me not to paint with mullen
leaves any more. Sometimes such jokes lead to habits--one looks pale you
know when the blaze dies away."
Tavia felt as if her blaze never would die away. Why had she been so
foolish? She would have given anything now to rub those horrid, prickly
leaves off forever.
"I never will paint--" she stammered.
"I hope you will not, dear, you should be grateful for such coloring as
you have. But let me warn you in all kindness. It is usually pretty
girls who make such mistakes--they want to be more and more attractive
and so spoil it all. Think right, and of pleasant things, and the glory
of happiness will be all the cosmetic you will ever need," and again she
pressed her own white cheek to the burning face of the girl she still
held in her arms.
Later, when Tavia was thinking it all over, she pondered seriously upon
those words. No one had ever spoken to her just that way before--at home
it was taken for granted she knew so much more than those around her,
that such counsel as she needed was withheld. Alas, how many girls lose
valuable advice by appearing to be over-smart for their years! And then
the awakening is always doubly sad.
Pages:
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190