And all at once I began to be
embittered. Sis had everything, and what had I? And when I got
home, and saw that Sis had had her room done over, and ivory
toilet things on her dressing table, and two perfectly huge
boxes of candy on a stand and a Ball Gown laid out on the bed,
I almost wept.
My own room was just as I had left it. It had been the
night nursery, and there was still the dent in the mantel where
I had thrown a hair brush at Sis, and the ink spot on the carpet
at the foot of the bed, and everything.
Mademoiselle had gone, and Hannah, mother's maid, came to
help me off with my things. I slammed the door in her face, and
sat down on the bed and _raged_.
They still thought I was a little girl. They _patronized_
me. I would hardly have been surprised If they had sent up a
bread and milk supper on a tray. It was then and there that I
made up my mind to show them that I was no longer a mere child.
That the time was gone when they could shut me up in the nursery
and forget me. I was seventeen years and eleven days old, and
Juliet, in Shakspeare, was only sixteen when she had her
well-known affair with Romeo.
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