dependent upon the price of corn, but at first it is certainly a
question of propinquity.

Through the kindergarten and the multiplication table, the pretty game
goes on. Before she is thirteen, she decides to marry, and selects an
awkward boy a little older for the happy man. She cherishes him in her
secret heart, and it does not matter in the least if she does not know
him well enough to speak to him, for the good fairies who preside over
earthly destinies will undoubtedly lead The Prince to become formally
acquainted at the proper time.

[Sidenote: The Self-Conscious Period]

Later, the self-conscious period approaches and Mademoiselle becomes
solicitous as to ribbons and personal adornment. She pleads earnestly
for long gowns, and the first one is never satisfying unless it drags.
If she can do her hair in a twist "just like mamma's," and see the
adored one pass the house, while she sits at the window with sewing or
book, she feels actually "grown up."

When she begins to read novels, her schoolmates, for the time being, are
cast aside, because none of them are in the least like the lovers who
stalk through the highly-coloured pages of the books she likes best. The
hero is usually "tall and dark, with a melancholy cast of countenance,"
and there are fascinating hints of some secret sorrow. The watchful
maternal parent is apt to confiscate these interesting volumes, but
there are always school desks and safe places in the neighbourhood of
pillows, and a candle does not throw its beams too far.

The books in which the love scenes are most violent possess unfading