As I was weakly, and my bones small and friable, I was two years recovering from this terrible fall, and during that time was nearly always carried about. I will pass over these two years of my life, which have left me only a vague memory of being petted and of a chronic state of torpor.
II
AT BOARDING SCHOOL
One day my mother took me on her knees and said to me, “You are a big girl now, and you must learn to read and write.” I was then seven years old, and could neither read, write, nor count, as I had been five years with the old nurse and two years ill. “You must go to school,” continued my mother, playing with my curly hair, “like a big girl.” I did not know what all this meant, and I asked what a school was.
“It’s a place where there are many little girls,” replied my mother.
“Are they ill?” I asked.
“Oh no! They are quite well, as you are now, and they play together, and are very gay and happy.”
I jumped about in delight, and gave free vent to my joy, but on seeing tears in my mother’s eyes I flung myself in her arms.
“But what about you, Mamma?” I asked. “You will be all alone, and you won’t have any little girl.”
She bent down to me and said: “God has told me that He will send me some flowers and a little baby.”
My delight was more and more boisterous. “Then I shall have a little brother!” I exclaimed, “or else a little sister. Oh no, I don’t want that; I don’t like little sisters.”