a
straight-backed, severe looking old lady, was then visiting us. How my
mother managed it I don't know, but Grandma, who abhorred
theatricals, was soon reading 'Villikens' for us to practice, and she
even consented to appear as one of Bluebeard's departed wives. A sheet
was hung up to represent a wall; the wives stood behind it and put
their heads through holes that had been cut for the purpose; their
hair was pulled up and tacked to imaginary nails, and very realistic
pieces of red flannel arranged to represent gore. My grandmother was a
truly awful sight when my mother had painted her face and made her up
for the show. The party was a great success, and only the other day I
met a woman who had been one of the guests and she still remembered it
as one of the striking events of her childhood.

"My mother influenced me in those days in many ways that I shall never
forget, especially in her hatred of anything that savored of snobbery.
When I gave the party I placed the invitations in little pink
envelopes and put them on the desks of my schoolmates. A neighbor's
son who was poor and had to carry newspapers and peddle milk, sat next
to me in school. Children are snobs by nature, and this boy was never
asked to any of our parties. I consulted my mother as to what I should
do about Danny, for he had been nice to me and I hated to leave him
out. 'Of course you must invite him,' she said. 'But none of the other
girls invited him to their parties,' said I. 'There is nothing against
him, is there, except being poor?' 'Nothing at all,' I replied, and so
I was directed to include him in the invitations. I shall never forget
poor slighted Danny's radiant face when he saw there was a note for
him. He came to the party dressed in new clothes from head to foot,
and made such a success that after that he was always asked in 'our
set.'

"My mother also taught me to be considerate of other people's
feelings. My teacher once kept me in for slamming a door; I told my
mother about it and admitted that I had slammed it purposely because
my teacher was so cross. In the guise of an entertaining story, she
told me how the teacher, a pretty young woman named Miss Miller, had
come to teach a big class, a stranger, alone, and that perhaps she had
a headache from having cried the night before from homesickness. In
this way she harrowed my feelings to such an extent that I went to
Miss Miller of my own accord and begged her pardon, and the poor g