to help polish the silver, and to comb
out the fringe of the tea napkins. I
liked to help in these tasks ordinarily,
but to do it for the purpose of coming
up to a visiting -- and probably, a con-
descending -- goddess, somehow made
me cross.

Among other hardships, I had to take
care of my little sister Julie all day. I
loved Julie. She had soft golden-
brown curls fuzzing around on her
head, and mischievous brown eyes --
warm, extra-human eyes. There was a
place in the back of her neck, just below
the point of her curls, which it was a
privilege to kiss; and though she could
not yet talk, she had a throaty, beauti-
ful little exclamation, which cannot be
spelled any more than a bird note, with
which she greeted all the things she
liked -- a flower, or a toy, or mother.
But loving Julie as she sat in mother's
lap, and having to care for her all of
a shining Saturday, were two quite dif-
ferent things. As the hours wore along
I became bored with looking at the
golden curls of my baby sister; I had
no inclination to kiss the "honey-spot"
in the back of her neck; and when she