of God's Black Children sold as chattels. Children torn from their mothers and...' she glanced cautiously at Patrick's purple cloth back hunched upon the box—'and no chance for colored females to retain their virtue—none.' She whispered, out of respect for Patrick's delicate masculine ears. 'I am much engaged in Women's Rights and in Higher Education for Females. Oh, so many, many things! My days are full, I assure you. That is the secret of a happy life. But you, Cousin Lanice, you have your genius. You have only to choose between literature and painting. But you must be very serious in your chosen field.'
'Oh, I am. What pleasure I henceforth get out of life must be quite independent of my gender. From now on I am not a woman, merely a human being. I want to be an artist or an authoress, and,' she added naïvely, 'I've stopped curling my hair.'
'Oh,' cried Pauline, 'I wish all women would, but even Mrs. Stowe, that high-minded, noble woman, wears a perfect galaxy of these female adornments.'
So it was for principle that Pauline screwed back her dull hair and buttoned her eager, stooping figure into such plain black basques. Her searching nose seemed made for the smelling-out of new fancies or old truths. Lanice remembered hearing that in Boston ladies did not greet each other with a 'How do you do, my dear?' but, 'Have you heard the latest thought out, my love?' Cousin Poggy's blotched skin and nervous manner made her slightly repellent, but she had the undaunted interest of a born confidante and
