lieved that in her heart she thought me a thief.

My second friendship, and one which had a strong
influence on my after-life, was formed in Lawrence.
I was not more than ten years old when I met this
new friend, but the memory of her in after-years,
and the impression she had made on my susceptible
young mind, led me first into the ministry, next into
medicine, and finally into suffrage-work. Living
next door to us, on Prospect Hill, was a beautiful
and mysterious woman. All we children knew of
her was that she was a vivid and romantic figure,
who seemed to have no friends and of whom our
elders spoke in whispers or not at all. To me she
was a princess in a fairy-tale, for she rode a white
horse and wore a blue velvet riding-habit with a
blue velvet hat and a picturesquely drooping white
plume. I soon learned at what hours she went
forth to ride, and I used to hover around our gate
for the joy of seeing her mount and gallop away.
I realized that there was something unusual about
her house, and I had an idea that the prince was
waiting for her somewhere in the far distance, and
that for the time at least she had escaped the ogre
in the castle she left behind. I was wrong about
the prince, but right about the ogre. It was only
when my unhappy lady left her castle that she was
free.

Very soon she noticed me. Possibly she saw the