many important ones have left no mark
in the memory. It seems to me, as I
think it over, that it was the days that
affected the emotions that dwell with
me, and I suppose all of us must be the
same in this respect.

Among those which I am never to
forget is the day when Aunt Cordelia
came to visit us -- my mother's aunt,
she was -- and when I discovered evil,
and tried to understand what the use
of it was.

Great-aunt Cordelia was, as I often
and often had been told, not only much
travelled, rich and handsome, but good
also. She was, indeed, an important
personage in her own city, and it
seemed to be regarded as an evidence
of unusual family fealty that she
should go about, now and then, briefly
visiting all of her kinfolk to see how
they fared in the world. I ought to
have looked forward to meeting her, but
this, for some perverse reason, I did
not do. I wished I might run away
and hide somewhere till her visit was
over. It annoyed me to have to clean
up the play-room on her account, and