n the stage without
a niece of mine ever being there."

I went to bed that night greatly elated. Flattery is sweet to youth. I
felt pleased with myself, and imagined, as I peeped in the looking-glass,
that I was not half bad-looking after all.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Yah!

"Bah, you hideous animal! Ha ha! Your peerless conceit does you credit.
So you actually imagined that by one or two out of every hundred you
might he considered passable. You are the most uninteresting person in
the world. You are small and nasty and bad, and every other thing that's
abominable. That's what you are."

This address I delivered to my reflection in the glass next morning. My
elation of the previous night was as flat as a pancake. Dear, oh dear,
what a fool I had been to softly swallow the flattery of Mr Grey without
a single snub in return! To make up for my laxity, if he continued to
amuse himself by plastering my vanity with the ointment of flattery, I
determined to serve up my replies to him red-hot and well seasoned with
pepper.

I finished my toilet, and in a very what's-the-good-o'-anything mood took
a last glance in the glass to say, "You're ugly, you're ugly and useless;
so don't forget that and make a fool of yourself again."

I was in the habit of doing this; it had long ago taken the place of a
morning prayer. I said this, that by familiarity it might lose a little
of its sting when I heard it from other lips, but somehow it failed in
efficacy.

I was late for breakfast that morning. All the others were half through
the meal when I sat down.

Grannie had not come home till after twelve, but was looking as brisk as
usual.

"Come, Sybylla, I suppose this comes of sitting up too late, as I was not
here to hunt you to bed. You are always very lively at night, but it's a
different tune in the morning," she said, when giving me the usual
morning hug.

"When I was a nipper of your age, if I didn't turn out like greased
lightning every morning, I was assisted by a little strap oil," remarked
uncle Jay-Jay.

"Sybylla should be excused this morning," interposed Mr Grey. "She
entertained us for hours last night. Little wonder if she feels languid
this morning."

"Entertained you I What did she do?" queried grannie.

"Many things. Do you know, gran, that you are robbing the world of an
artist by keeping Sybylla hidden away in the bush? I must persuade you to
let me take her to Sydney and have her put under the bes