of inkstands at school, mud tracking
over the carpet in the "best room" at home, unconscious betrayal of
mischief plans, etc., etc., made up the full catalogue of my days and
their experiences, and although I did have a few warm friends, I could
not be as other girls were, generally happy and beloved.

Mother was the only real friend I had; it seemed to me, as I grew older,
she learned to know that I was too often blamed, where at heart I was
wholly blameless, and when sometimes she stroked my hair, and said, "My
dear child, how unlucky you are," I felt that I could do anything for
her, and she never, to my remembrance, said "Emily did it."

From my father I often heard it. Hal rarely, if ever, said anything
else, and if I did sometimes darn his stockings a little too thick, it
was not such a heinous crime. He was handsome, and I was as proud of his
face as I was ashamed of my own; I know now that my features were not so
bad, but my spirit never shone through them, while Hal carried every
thought right in his face. My face also might have looked attractive if
I had only been understood, but I blame no one for that, when I was
covered even as a "leopard with spots," indicating everything but the
blessed thoughts I sometimes had and the better part of my nature. The
interval of years between my fifth and sixteenth birthdays was too full
of recurring mishaps of every kind to leave within my memory distinct
traces of the little joys that sometimes crept in upon me. I number them
all when I recall the face of my more than blessed mother and the mild
eyes of Mary Snow, who was kinder and nearer to me than the others of my
school-mates.

Hal grew daily more of a torment, and being five years my senior,
"bossed" me about to his satisfaction, except at such times as I grew
too vexed with him to restrain my anger, and turning upon him would pour
volleys of wrath upon his head. On these occasions he seemed really
afraid of me, and, for a time after, I would experience a little peace.
Learning from experience that keeping my thoughts to myself was the best
means of quiet, I grew, after leaving school, less inclined to associate
with anyone except sweet Mary Snow. One blessed consciousness grew daily
on me, and that was that I came nearer my mother's heart, and as I was
never lazy, I shared many of her joys and trials and learned to keep my
rebellious nature almost wholly in check. Father was a good man, but
unfortunate in busine