matter-of-fact way.

"I often wish I was grown up. I feel tired of being a child; I want
to be a woman. Then I should know so much more, and I should be able
to understand all the things you tell me I can't now. I don't care
for playing at games and going to school."

"You'll be a woman soon enough, Ida," said Lotty, with a quiet
sadness unusual in her. "But go on; what else?"

"And then I often wish I was a boy. It must be so much nicer to be a
boy. They're stronger than girls, and they know more. Don't you wish
I was a boy, mother?"

"Yes, I do, I often do!" exclaimed Lotty. "Boys aren't such a
trouble, and they can go out and shift for themselves."

"Oh, but I won't be a trouble to you," exclaimed Ida. "When I'm old
enough to leave school--"

She interrupted herself, for the moment she had actually forgotten
the misfortune which had come upon her. But her mother did not
observe the falling of her countenance, nor yet the incomplete
sentence.

"Ida, have I been a bad mother to you?" Lotty sobbed out presently.
"If I was to die, would you be sorry?"

"Mother!"