Jerry could n't stand it long ; she declared it got on her nerves ; besides , she felt sorry to see a fellow creature wasting so many precious moments of a fleeting lifetime at patchwork . So one afternoon she hailed Miss Ponsonby with a cheerful `` hello , '' and Miss Ponsonby actually looked over and said `` good afternoon , '' as prim as an eighteen-hundred-and-forty fashion plate . Then Jerry , whose name is Geraldine only in the family Bible , talked to her about the weather . Jerry can talk interestingly about anything . In five minutes she had performed a miracle -- she had made Miss Ponsonby laugh . In five minutes more she was leaning half out of the window showing Miss Ponsonby a new , white , fluffy , frivolous , chiffony waist of hers , and Miss Ponsonby was leaning halfway out of hers looking at it eagerly . At the end of a quarter of an hour they were exchanging confidences about their favourite books . Jerry was a confirmed Kiplingomaniac , but Miss Ponsonby adored Laura Jean Libbey . She said sorrowfully she supposed she ought not to read novels at all since her father disapproved . We found out later on that Mr. Ponsonby 's way of expressing disapproval was to burn any he got hold of , and storm at his daughter about them like the confirmed old crank he was . Poor Miss Ponsonby had to keep her Laura Jeans locked up in her trunk , and it was n't often she got a new one . From that day dated our friendship with Miss Ponsonby , a curious friendship , only carried on from window to window . We never saw Miss Ponsonby anywhere else ; we asked her to come over but she said her father did n't allow her to visit anybody . Miss Ponsonby was one of those meek women who are ruled by whomsoever happens to be nearest them , and woe be unto them if that nearest happen to be a tyrant . Her meekness fairly infuriated Jerry . But we liked Miss Ponsonby and we pitied her . She confided to us that she was very lonely and that she wrote poetry . We never asked to see the poetry , although I think she would have liked to show it . But , as Jerry says , there are limits . We told Miss Ponsonby all about our dances and picnics and beaus and pretty dresses ; she was never tired of hearing of them ; we smuggled new library novels -- Jerry got our cook to buy them -- and boxes of chocolates , from our window to hers ; we sat there on moonlit nights and communed with her while other girls down the street were entertaining callers on their verandahs ; we did everything we could for her except to call her Alicia , although she begged us to do so .
But it never came easily to our tongues ; we thought she must have been born and christened Miss Ponsonby ; `` XXXXX '' was something her mother could only have dreamed about her .
Alicia Ponsonby beaus burn chocolates day meekness storm verandahs whomsoever