Penelope, also; but I wish Penelope would not wear such airy dresses, and such a quantity of artificial flowers, while her curls are so thin, and her cheeks so sharp. She used to have very pretty hair, ten years ago. I remember being exceedingly shocked and fierce about a curl of hers that I saw stolen in the summer-house, by Francis Charteris, before we found out that they were engaged. She rather expected him to-night, I fancy. Mrs. Granton was sure to have invited him with us; but, of course, he has not come. He never did come, in my recollection, when he said he would. I ought to go and dress; but I can do it in ten minutes, and it is not worth while wasting more time. Those two girls--what a capital foil each makes to the other! little, dark, lively--not to say satirical: large, amiable, and fair. Papa ought to be proud of them;--I suppose he is. Heigho!'Tis a good thing to be good-looking. And next best, perhaps, is downright ugliness,--nice, interesting, attractive ugliness--such as I have seen in some women: nay, I have somewhere read that ugly women have often been loved best. But to be just ordinary; of ordinary height, ordinary figure, and, oh me! let me lift up my head from the desk to the looking-glass, and take a good stare at an undeniably ordinary face. 'Tis not pleasant. Well; I am as I was made; let me not undervalue myself, if only out of reverence for Him who made me. Surely--Captain Treherne's voice below: Does that young man expect to be taken to the ball in our fly? Truly he is making himself one of the family, already. There is papa calling us. What will papa say? Why, he said nothing; and Lisabel, as she swept slowly down the staircase with a little silver lamp in her right hand, likewise said nothing; but she looked---- "Everybody is lovely to somebody," says the proverb. Query, if somebody I could name should live to the age of Methuselah, will _she_ ever be lovely to anybody? What nonsense! Bravo! thou wert in the right of it, jolly miller of Dee!= ````"I care for nobody, no, not I; ````And nobody cares for me."= So, let me lock up my desk, and dress for the ball. ***** Really, not a bad ball; even now--when looked at in the light of next day's quiet--with the leaves stirring lazily in the fir-tree by my window, and the broad sunshine brightening the moorlands far away. Not a bad ball, even to me, who usually am stoically contemptuous of such senseless amusements. Doubtless, from the mean motive that I like dancing, and am rarely asked to dance; that I am just five-and-twenty, and get no more attention than if I were five-and-forty. Of course, I protest continually that I don't care a pin for this fact (mem. mean again). For I do care--at the very bottom of my heart, I do. Many a time have I leaned my head here--good old desk, you will tell no tales!--and cried, actually cried--with the pain of being neither pretty, agreeable, nor young.