Like other English children of families in comfortable circumstances, the Hodgson girls had a governess at home, before they entered a near-by private school. The lessons which interested Frances the most were those that contained stories, such as certain parts of history. She could never satisfy her great appetite for stories, though she read continually.
There were not so many good books for children then as nowadays. Frances’ relatives seemed to think that the birthday and Christmas gift books were quite enough for a little girl. Frances, however, did not agree with them. When she made a new acquaintance at school, she was sure to ask her, first of all, what books she had to lend. Sometimes when she went to visit a little friend, she forgot her manners entirely and buried herself in a new book, so eager was she to read.
One gloomy rainy day, Frances wandered through the house looking for something to read. She glanced at the tall secretary and wished that its books looked more interesting. However, she decided that she might at least try one. Accordingly, she pulled out a fat volume. It had short lines, which, to Frances, meant conversation and a story. She opened another book and found more stories. Delightedly, she continued to examine the books.
Frances was so excited and happy that she forgot to go to tea. She had discovered that there were stories enough to last her for months! It was in this way that Frances Hodgson discovered Shakespeare’s plays, Scott’s and Dickens’ novels, and many other interesting books.
Not content with reading stories, Frances was always telling or writing them. On the afternoons at school when the girls were allowed to talk quietly over their crocheting and fancy work, Frances would tell stories in low tones to the group of girls near her. They were delighted with her tales and continually begged her to tell more.
At home she often wrote stories on slates or in old account books. For fear of being teased she rarely showed the stories to anyone except her mother. Mrs. Hodgson always had an encouraging word for her little daughter’s tales and verses. This gave Frances an added incentive to continue writing.
Just at the close of the Civil War a great change came into the life of the little storywriter. Mrs. Hodgson decided to leave England and move to America. The family fortunes were impaired, and an uncle had promised to find work for the boys in the United States.
Romantic Frances was delighted with the change. Her first American home was in a tiny settlement in the forests of Tennessee. Everything was so new and strange that she seemed actually to be living in a story. The next home on the top of a hill, with mountains in the distance, was even better. How she loved the bright sunshine, the flowers, the birds, and her bower, a cozy retreat in the woods!
The boys had not as yet been able to add very much to the family fortunes. Frances and her sisters did not mind worn-out frocks and scanty meals, but they were troubled to see their dear little mother so worried. The girls decided that something had to be done immediately.
“How wonderful it would be,” thought Frances, “if an editor would buy one of my stories!”