green spectacles, who tip-toed down from the "high seat" and said, "Is
thee a member?" "No, but my father is," replied Susan. "That will not
do, thee will have to go out." "My mother told me to stay in." "Thy
mother doesn't manage things here." "But my father told me to stay in."
"Neither thy father nor thy mother can say what thee shall do here;
thee will have to go out;" and taking the child by the arm she led her
into the cold vestibule. After remaining there until almost frozen,
Susan decided to go to the nearest neighbor's. When she opened the gate
a big dog sprung fiercely upon her. Her screams brought out the family
and she was taken into the house, where it was found the only injury
was a large piece bitten out of the new Scotch plaid cloak which she
had gone to meeting on purpose to exhibit. The affair created
considerable excitement, Mr. and Mrs. Anthony were very indignant, and
it ended in the father's making a "request" that his children be made
members of the Society, which was done.

Daniel Anthony was by nature a broad, progressive man, and his family
were not brought up according to the strictest and narrowest
requirements of Quaker doctrine; while his wife, remembering the
liberal teachings of her Universalist father and her own girlish love
of youthful pastimes, went still further in making life pleasant for
the children. Through her influence the daughters secured many a pretty
article of wearing apparel, and, when there was a party whose hours
were later than the father approved, the mother managed to have them
spend the night with girls in the neighborhood.

When the family first moved to Battenville the children went to the
little old-fashioned district school taught by a man in winter and a
woman in summer. None of the men could teach Susan "long division" or
understand why a girl should insist upon learning it. One of the women