lived out-of-doors with the wild almost entirely. If she reported
promptly three times a day when the bell rang at meal time, with
enough clothing to constitute a decent covering, nothing more was
asked until the Sabbath. To be taken from such freedom, her feet
shod, her body restricted by as much clothing as ever had been
worn on Sunday, shut up in a schoolroom, and set to droning over
books, most of which she detested, was the worst punishment ever
inflicted upon her she declares. She hated mathematics in any
form and spent all her time on natural science, language, and
literature. "Friday afternoon," writes Mrs. Porter, "was always
taken up with an exercise called `rhetoricals,' a misnomer as a
rule, but let that pass. Each week pupils of one of the four
years furnished entertainment for the assembled high school and
faculty. Our subjects were always assigned, and we cordially
disliked them. This particular day I was to have a paper on
`Mathematical Law.'

"I put off the work until my paper had been called for several
times, and so came to Thursday night with excuses and not a line.
I was told to bring my work the next morning without fail. I went
home in hot anger. Why in all this beautiful world, would they
not allow me to do something I could do, and let any one of four
members of my class who revelled in mathematics do my subject?
That evening I was distracted. `I can't do a paper on
mathematics, and I won't!' I said stoutly; `but I'll do such a
paper on a subject I can write about as will open their foolish
eyes and make them see how wrong they are.'"

Before me on the table lay the book I loved, the most wonderful
story in which was `Picciola' by Saintine. Instantly I began to