Gwen thought she saw a chance to shine, and she meant to do it.
She had heard a conversation, not intended for her ears, when a lady
calling at her home had inquired for the little daughter of the house.
"Oh, Gwen is really a wonderful child," Mrs. Harcourt had said, "and
while she has a positive talent for reciting fine poetry, her
compositions are _so_ original that they are really _startling_!"
"Oh, really!" the lady had replied, in a manner that showed that she
was bored.
Gwen had leaned over the baluster in the upper hall, and drank in every
word of praise that had been uttered.
The following Friday the pupils arrived with compositions that they
had prepared.
As is usual, in any such school event, some were really good, others
were neither very good, nor very bad, but all others were forgotten
when Gwen Harcourt commenced to read.
If Gwen Harcourt was vain, conceited, too much of a baby for a child
of her age, it was largely the fault of her silly mother, whose beauty,
and power to charm were great, but whose mind was exceedingly shallow.
Pages:
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56