"Stunning beauties, both of them," responded Alan, with some
enthusiasm. "Katharine knows it, that's the worst of it. I do hate
a girl that thinks she's pretty. I'd rather they'd be homely as
Miss Bean, and not think about themselves, all the time. But I'll
go call them." And he departed, leaving Polly to meditate on his
words.

The girls soon came down the old stairway behind her, and as Polly
shyly rose to meet them, she felt at once the truth of Alan's
description of Katharine. There was a strong family resemblance
between the sisters, both were dark, and they had the same bright,
brown eyes and smooth, dark brown hair; but Katharine was by far
the more beautiful, with her pink cheeks, small regular teeth,
full lips, and long straight nose with just a suggestion of
sauciness in the slant of its tip. It was this nose that
captivated Polly, and, indeed, Katharine was like a beautiful
picture, in figure and feature, while her rapidly changing
expressions and her brilliant health added a charm which no
picture could ever have. She seemed years older than the other
girls, and this effect was increased by the elegance of her dress
and by her quiet, settled manners, which made Polly feel very
young and shabby in her spotless gingham. Katharine shook hands
with a dignity that quite overawed Polly, who turned to look at
Jessie with a conscious feeling of relief. Jessie was a plump,
lively young woman of twelve, with less, perhaps, of her sister's
delicate beauty; but the lack was more than made good by her
perfect unconsciousness of self, and her frank, winning manner,
which led Polly to forget her formal greeting, and seize her hand,
saying impulsively,--