Toilette; trying on a dozen Things she does not mean to wear, and studying what Colours suit her Complexion. As she does not so much as put on her own Gloves herself, Madame _Pompon_ is on hard Duty all this While, I standing by and handing her the Pins and Everything she wants. If my _Lady_ thinks herself in good Looks, all the better for us; but if she spies out so much as a Freckle, woe unto us! we are sure to suffer for what we can't help. To put her in good Humour, _Pompon_ flatters her to a Degree that is nauseous to me, and sometimes gets a Rebuff for her Pains: then I am set to write half-a-dozen trivial Notes to her Dictation, or perhaps the Invitations to a Rout or a Drum, which _Pompey_ is then summoned to carry out. Then, my Work is called for to be examined; I am chidden if I have not done enough, and receive numerous Orders and Counter-Orders about it. At last, my _Lady_ goes out in her Chair, during which Time I keep close to my Needle, and then _Pompon_ and I dine together. Lady _Betty_ returns, receives Visitors, and I am on Duty as Woman in waiting, to bring her Scent-Bottle, hold her Handkerchief, her Gloves, and hear the News and Gossip of the Day and a thousand Impertinences. At length my _Lady_ dines: then I resume my Needle; then she dresses for the Evening, which is as tedious a Transaction as her Morning Toilette. Her Dressing-Room is the loveliest, most luxurious Apartment you ever saw; at first I thought it Fairy-Land, and did not mind being shut up in it; but oh, how tired I am of it now! Its Silken Draperies, polished Mirrours, Spider-Tables, Ivory Caskets, Alabaster Vases, Silver Footbath, old Porcelain, grotesque Toys and delicate Trinkets give me no more Entertainment than so much Rubbish. Elaborately dressed, she goes forth not to return till two, three, or four o'Clock in the Morning. Madame _Pompon_ goes down Stairs to play Cards, or puts on her Calash and goes out to see her Friends, or if she stays with me, nods over a _French_ Novel, or babbles all kinds of Nonsense while she manufactures some Piece of Finery. Meanwhile, I sew and sew at that eternal Embroidery, or try to keep myself awake with a Book, if I can find one to my Mind, till my _Lady_ returns jaded or excited from the Ridotto, to be undressed and have hot Soup in Bed. Thus, you see, I have no Change, no Exercise; and what is worse, no Food or Medicine for the Mind; and oh, _Patty! is_ this a Life for an accountable Creature?" [Illustration] CHAPTER VII. _Lady Betty's Fright._ "However that may be, _Gatty_," said I, "'tis certain you and I have not the Power of rectifying Abuses, and must take Things as we find them; but you must console yourself with thinking your Trial will probably not be long, for I'll wager a Pound you'll be married within the Twelvemonth." "Who to?" says she, opening her Eyes wide. "Nay, I can't tell that," said I, "but you are not the Sort of Girl to be overlooked."