And now I be come to the end of my month, I have been a-reading over what I writ, to see how much I must needs pay. There be but two blots, the which shall be so many pence: and two blank spaces of one week or over, the which at two pence each brings the account to sixpence. I cannot perceive that I have at any time writ disrespectfully of my betters--which, I take it, be _Father_, and _Mother_, and Aunt _Joyce_, and Cousin _Bess_, and Mynheer _Stuyvesant_, But for speaking unkindly of other, I fear I am not blameless. I can count six two-pences, which shall be one shilling and sixpence. I must try and do better when my month cometh round again. Verily, I had not thought that I should speak unkindly six times in one month! 'Tis well to find out a body's faults. So now I pass my book over to _Milly_--and do right earnestly desire that she may be less faultful than I. What poor infirm things be we, in very sooth! Note 1. Francois Duke of Anjou, who visited the Queen in September, 1579, to urge his suit. Elizabeth hesitated for some time before she gave a decided negative. CHAPTER THREE. MILISENT MAKES A FRIEND. "The inward depths of that deceitful fount Where many a sin lies sleeping, but not dead." (_In Milisent's handwriting_.) SELWICK HALL, NOVEMBER YE FIRST. Things be alway going awry with me. Elsewise, this jolly book should ne'er have come into my hands first of a _Sunday_. I would love dearly to read o'er what my philosophical sister hath writ, and comment on the same: but I reckon I must tarry till to-morrow. Now, _Mother_ said I was to write what I thought, and I mean to do the same. As to the pennies and the two-pences, they may count up themselves, for all I care. They'll not outrun half-a-crown, I reckon: and having paid the same at my month end, I shall just worry the life out of _Father_ till he give me an other. So here goes it! Well, the first thing I think is,--Why must everything pleasant be set aside while _Monday_? _Father_ saith happiness and wickedness be not alike, though (quoth he) some folk think so much. Now, it seems me that happiness and holiness should be the same thing. Why should a matter not be right simply by reason that I like it? I want to know, and I will ask somebody, some of these days. Howbeit, of one thing am I assured,--namely, that it cannot be wicked to write on _Sunday_ what it is not wicked to do. So I shall tell what we did. Now, there some folk are so queer! They will take down a gown, and shake out the folds, and talk an half-hour o'er it,--how this gimp should be better to run that way, and next week the bottom must needs be fresh bound: all of a _Sunday_. But to stick a neeld in, and make the gimp run that way, and fresh bind the bottom,--good lack! they should count you a very heathen an' you asked them. Now, I want to know how the one is a bit better than the other. I cannot see a pin to choose betwixt them.