“Do I understand, Mary Cary”—and by this time he was real red-in-the-face mad—“do I understand you are not thankful for all that comes to you? Do I understand aright?”
“Yes, sir, you understand right,” I said, getting up this time. “I am not thankful for everything in my life. I’d be much thankfuller to have a Mother and Father on earth than to have them in heaven. And there are a great many other things I would like different.” And down I sat, and was kept in for telling the truth.
Miss Bray says it was for impertinence (Miss Bray is the Head Chief of this Institution), but I didn’t mean to be impertinent. I truly didn’t. Speaking facts is apt to make trouble, though—also writing them. To-day Miss Bray kept me in for putting something on the blackboard I forgot to rub out. I wrote it just for my own relief, not thinking about anybody else seeing it. What I wrote was this:
“Some people are crazy all the time;
All people are crazy sometimes.”
That’s why I’m up in the punishment-room to-day, and it only proves that what I wrote is right. It’s crazy to let people know you know how queer they are. Miss Bray takes personal everything I do, and when she saw that blackboard, up-stairs she ordered me at once. She loves to punish me, and it’s a pleasure I give her often.
She thinks she could run this earth better than it’s being done, and she walks around like she is the Superintendent of most of it.
But she’s taught me a good deal about Human Nature, Miss Bray has. About the side I didn’t know. I think I will make a special study of Human Nature. I thought once I’d take up Botany in particular, as I love flowers; or Astronomy, so as to find out all about those million worlds in the sky, so superior to earth, and so much larger; but I think, now, I’ll settle on Human Nature. Nobody ever knows what it is going to do, which makes it full of surprises, but there’s a lot that’s real interesting about it. I like it. As for its Bray side, I’ll try not to think about it; but if there are puddles, I guess it’s well to know where, so as not to step in them. I wish we didn’t have to know about puddles and things! I’d so much rather know little and be happy than find out the miserable much some people do. God is going to have a hard time with Miss Bray. She’s right old to change, and she’s set in her ways—bad ways.
Did you know I wrote poetry? Umhm. I do. Last week I wrote one. This is it:
“In the winter, by the fireside, when the snow falls soft and white,