One must believe in something! It came to me in a flash, when Christina was five years old.
I remember the day and the place, as if it were yesterday.

She was a very ugly baby; for the first two years I could hardly bear to look at her, and I used to spoil my own looks with crying about her.

She had an Italian nurse who was very fond of her and insisted that she would grow up pretty.

I could n't believe her; I used to contradict her, and we were forever squabbling.

I was just a little silly in those days--surely I may say it now--and I was very fond of being amused.