— Chosen by my mother; — as
pretty and elegant, and simple too, as they could be; but once
putting them on, I could never be unnoticed by my schoolmates
any more. I knew it, with a certain feeling that was not
displeasure. Was it pride? Was it anything more than my
pleasure in all pretty things? I thought it was something
more. And I determined that I would not put on any of them
till school was broken up. If it _was_ pride, I was ashamed of
it. But besides French dresses, my aunt brought me a better
thing; a promise from my father.
"He said I was to tell you, Daisy my dear, — and I hope you
will be a good child and take it as you ought, — but dear me!
how she is growing," said Mrs. Gary, turning to Mme. Ricard;
"I cannot talk about Daisy as a 'child' much longer. She's
tall."
"Not too tall," said Madame.
"No, but she is going to be tall. She has a right; her mother
is tall, and her father. Daisy, my dear, I do believe you are
going to look like your mother. You'll be very handsome if you
do.
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