"Well, it doesn't know anything, does it?" replied Hatty, in her teasing way. "Only just up from the country, isn't it? Madam, Mr Anthony Parmenter as was (as old Will says) is Sir Anthony Parmenter; and Miss Cecilia Osborne as was, is her Ladyship." "Do you mean to say Cecilia has married Mr Parmenter?" "Oh dear, no! she has married Sir Anthony." "Then she jilted our father for a title? The snake!" "Don't use such charming language, my sweetest; her Ladyship might not admire it. And if I were you, I would make myself scarce; she is coming this way." "Then I will go the other," said I, and I did. To my astonishment, as soon as I had left her, what should Hatty do but walk up and shake hands with Cecilia, and in a few minutes they and Mr Parmenter were all laughing about something. I was amazed beyond words. I had always thought Hatty pert, teasing, disagreeable; but never underhand or mean. But just then I saw a good-looking young man join them, and offer his arm to Hatty for a walk round the room; and it flashed on me directly that this was young Mr Crossland, and that he was a friend of Mr--I mean Sir Anthony--Parmenter. When we were undressing that night, I said,-- "Annas, can a person do anything to make the world better?" "What person?" asked she, and smiled. "Well, say me. Can I do anything?" "Certainly. You can be as good as you know how to be." "But that won't make other people better." "I do not know that. Some other people it may." "But that will be the people who are good already. I want to mend the people who are bad." "Then pray for them," said Annas, gravely. Pray for Cecilia Osborne! It came upon me with a feeling of intense aversion. I could not pray for her! Nor did I think there would be a bit of good in praying for Hatty. And yet--if she were getting drawn into Cecilia's toils--if that young Mr Crossland were not a good man--I might pray for her to be kept safe. I thought I would try it. But when I began to pray for Hatty, it seemed unkind to leave out Fanny and Sophy. And then I got to Father and my Aunt Kezia; and then to Maria and Bessy; and then to Sam and Will; and then to old Elspie; and then to Helen Raeburn, and my Uncle Drummond, and Angus, and Mr Keith, and the Laird, and Lady Monksburn--and so on and on, till the whole world seemed full of people to be prayed for. I suppose it is so always--if we only thought of it! Grandmamma never noticed my ribbons--or rather my want of them. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ It really is of no use my trying to keep to dates. I have begun several times, and I cannot get on with it. That last piece, dated the 23rd, took me nearly a week to write; so that what was to-morrow when I began, was behind yesterday before I had finished. I shall just go right on without any more pother, and put a date now and then when it is very particular.