jenny wren's lazy thoughts of a lazy girl

'i remember once when i was dining out and feeling very pleased with my tout ensemble, i was disillusioned in a way that upset not only my self-confidence but my gravity at the same time. to heighten the general effect, i had stuck a patch near my mouth. (oh, the minds of the last century! from whose fertile brain did it emanate, i wonder, the fact that a piece of black plaster on the should be so eminently becoming!) imagine my horror when the maid, an old servant i knew very well, took me aside and whispered confidentially, 'oh miss! you've got such a big smut on your chin!'

clothes are altogether a great nuisance, i think. how tired you get of the regular routine of the morning toilet; always the same, never any variety. why are we not born, like dogs, with nice cosy rugs all over us, so that we should just have to get out of bed in the morning, shake ourselves and be ready at once to go down to breakfast and do the business of the day?

'ah well! god knows what's best for us all,' as an old charwoman said to me, years ago, when she was remarking on how i had grown. i never saw the application of the remark and do not think i ever shall. whether my growth was a subject to deplore, and she tried to comfort me, or not, i cannot say; but she was evidently proud of the remark, for she repeated it three times!'