The Story of My Childhood
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hands when we were ready for church. Upon being asked where were her gloves, she reluctantly replied that she "had none. They were worn out." Upon being asked why she had not said so and asked for others, the reply was a burst of tears and an attempt to leave the room. "We would not permit this unhappy day at home alone, and took her as she was," said my mother. All this sounded very badly to me as I heard it rehearsed. It was all true, all wrong; would I, could I ever learn to do better?
Mr. Fowler replied that these characteristics were all indicated; that, however much her friends might suffer from them, she would always suffer more. "They may be apparently outgrown, but the sensitive nature will always remain. She will never
