I do n't believe she ever looked at herself critically in a mirror in her life . Her features were rather nice , and her expression tamely sweet ; her eyes were big , timid , china-blue orbs that looked as if she had been badly scared when she was little and had never got over it ; she never wore anything but black , and , to crown all , her first name was Alicia . Miss Ponsonby sat and sewed at her window for hours at a time , but she never looked our way , partly , I suppose , from habit induced by modesty , since the former occupants of our room had been two gay young bachelors , whose names Jerry and I found out all over our window-panes with a diamond . Jerry and I sat a great deal at ours , laughing and talking , but Miss Ponsonby never lifted her head or eyes . 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 XXXXX us that she was very lonely and that she wrote poetry .
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