"We were two daughters of one race;
She was the fairest in the face;
The wind is sighing in turret and tree.
I hated her with the hate of hell,
Therefore revenge became me well.
Oh, but she was fair to see!"—Tennyson.
"Mamma, darling, you'll take me to the Inauguration Ball, that's a love."
"Oh, my baby, what an absurd idea! And you only sixteen!"
"I'm as tall as you, mamma, and I only look small because my dresses are too short. I wish you would let out the tucks to hide my ankles—there now!"
"But, Precious, you have the prettiest feet and ankles in the world."
"I don't care; I want my dresses long, and my hair put up. I'm tired of being only a schoolgirl! Everybody in Washington will be at the Inauguration Ball. I want to go, too, and shake hands with the new president."
"Nonsense, dear; the next Inauguration Ball will be time enough for you."
"Four years! Why, then I shall be twen-ty. Quite an old maid, mamma, dear, with crows' feet and wrinkles."
Mrs. Winans, the handsome wife of a noted Southern Senator, threw back her graceful golden head, and laughed softly:
"Oh, what a ridiculous child!"