into
a tragedy, for, not knowing enough to peel the banana, I bit through
skin and pulp alike, as if I were eating an apple, and then burst into
ears of disappointment. The beautiful conduct of my sister Mary shines
down through the years. She, wise child, had taken no chances with the
unknown; but now, moved by my despair, she bought half of my banana,
and we divided the fruit, the loss, and the lesson. Fate, moreover, had
another turn of the screw for us, for, after Mary had taken a bite of
it, we gave what was left of the banana to a boy who stood near us and
who knew how to eat it; and not even the large amount of candy in our
sticky hands enabled us to regard with calmness the subsequent happiness
of that little boy.

Another experience with fruit in Lawrence illustrates the ideas of my
mother and the character of the training she gave her children. Our
neighbors, the Cabots, were one day giving a great garden party, and
my sister was helping to pick strawberries for the occasion. When I was
going home from school I passed the berry-patches and stopped to speak
to my sister, who at once presented me with two strawberries. She said
Mrs. Cabot had told her to eat all she wanted, but that she would eat
two less than she wanted and give those two to me. To my mind, the
suggestion was generous and proper; in my life strawberries were rare.
I ate one berry, and then, overcome by an ambition to be generous also,
took the other berry home to my mother, telling her how I had got it. To
my chagrin, mother was deeply shocked. She told me that the transaction
was all wrong, and she made me take back the berry and explain the
matter to Mrs. Cabot. By the time I reached that generous lady the berry
was the worse for its journey, and so was I. I was only nine years old
and very sensitive. It was clear to me that I could hardly live through
the humiliation of the confession, and it was indeed a bitter experience
the worst, I think, in my young life, though Mrs. Cabot was both
sympathetic and understanding. She kissed me, and sent a quart of
strawberries to my mother; but for a long time afterward I could not
meet her kind eyes, for I believed that in her heart she thought me a
thief.

My second friendship, and one which had a strong influence on my
after-life, was formed in Lawrence. I was not more than ten years old
when I met this new friend, but the memory of her in after-years, and
the impression she had made on my suscepti