I grew more and more desolate. I love Life, although pessamistic at
times. And it seemed hard that I should be there, in exile, while my
Sister, only 20 months older, was jumping at her chance below.

At last I decided to try on one of Sis's frocks and see how I looked in
it. I though, if it looked all right, I might hang over the stairs and
see what I then scornfully termed "His Nibs." Never again shall I so
call him.

I got an evening gown from Sis's closet, and it fitted me quite well,
although tight at the waste for me, owing to Basket Ball. It was also
to low, so that when I had got it all hooked about four inches of my
LINGERIE showed. As it had been hard as anything to hook, I was obliged
to take the scizzors and cut off the said LINGERIE. The result was good,
although very DECOLLTE. I have no bones in my neck, or practicaly so.

And now came my moment of temptation. How easy to put my hair up on
my head, and then, by the servant's staircase, make my way to the seen
below!

I, however, considered that I looked pale, although Mature. I looked
at least nineteen. So I went into Sis's room, which was full of evening
wraps but emty, and put on a touch of rouge. With that and my eyebrows
blackend, I would not have known myself, had I not been certain it was I
and no other.

I then made my way down the Back Stairs.

Ah me, Dear Dairy, was that but a few hours ago? Is it but a short time
since Mr. Beresford was sitting at my feet, thinking me a DEBUTANTE,