ination. They are about
equally virtuous. Their main difference seems to be one of age, one
being a decade or so in advance of the other.

At times they work harmoniously together and again at cross-purposes. I
do not seem to have developed equally. Part of me sits humbly at the
feet of the other part of me and receives advice and instruction. Part
of me feels constrained to confess to the other part of me when it has
done wrong and meekly receives rebuke. Part of me tries to shock the
other part of me and to force the more dignified part to misbehave and
giggle and do things not considered correct in polite society.

My younger part delights to tease the older, to doubt her motives, to
interrupt her meditations. It wants to play, while my older self is more
seriously inclined. My younger self is only twelve years old. This is my
real self. To my own mind I am still a little girl with short dresses
and a bunch of curls. For some reason my idea of self has never advanced
beyond this point. The long dress and the hair piled high will never
seem natural. Sometimes I enjoy this duality and again I do not.
Sometimes the two parts mingle delightfully together, again they wrangle
atrociously, while I (there seems to be a third part of me) sit off and
watch the outcome.

The older part gets tired before the younger. The younger, still fresh
and in a good humor, undertakes to furnish amusement for the older. I
have often thrown myself on the bed wearied and exhausted and been made
to shake with laughter at the capers of the younger part of me. They are
capers indeed. On these occasions she will carry on conversations with
friends--real friends--fairly bristling with witticisms, and although
taking both parts herself, the parry and thrust is delightful.

Sometimes, however, the younger part of me seems to get up all awry. She
will carry on quarrels--heated quarrels--from morning to night, taking
both sides herself, with persons whom I (the combination) dearly love,
and against whom I have no grievance whatever. These are a great
distress to my older self.

On other days she seems to take the greatest delight in torturing me
with imaginary horrors. She cuts my throat, pulls my eyes out of their
sockets, removes tumors, and amputates limbs until I wonder that there
is anything left of me. She does it all without administering
anaesthetics and seems to enjoy my horror and disgust.

Again, some little jingle or tune will take h