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A New England Girlhood, Outlined from Memory (Beverly, MA)
·
Lucy Larcom
135
I
was
as
tall
as
a
woman
at
thirteen,
and
my
older
sisters
insisted
upon
lengthening
my
dresses,
and
putting
up
my
mop
of
hair
with
a
comb.
I
felt
injured
and
almost
outraged
because
my
protestations
against
this
treatment
were
unheeded
and
when
the
transformation
in
my
visible
appearance
was
effected,
I
went
away
by
myself
and
had
a
good
cry,
which
I
would
not
for
the
world
have
had
them
know
about,
as
that
would
have
added
humiliation
to
my
distress.
And
the
greatest
pity
about
it
was
that
I
too
soon
became
accustomed
to
the
situation.
I
felt
like
a
child,
but
considered
it
my
duty
to
think
and
behave
like
a
woman.
I
began
to
look
upon
it
as
a
very
serious
thing
to
live.
The
untried
burden
seemed
already
to
have
touched
my
shoulders.
For
a
time
I
was
morbidly
self-critical,
and
at
the
same
time
extremely
reserved.
The
associates
I
chose
were
usually
grave
young
women,
ten
or
fifteen
years
older
than
myself;
but
I
think
I
felt
older
and
appeared
older
than
they
did.
Childhood,
however,
is
not
easily
defrauded
of
its
birthright,
and
mine
soon
reasserted
itself.
At
home
I
was
among
children
of
my
own
age,
for
some
cousins
and
other
acquaintances
had
come
to
live
and
work
with
us.
We
had
our
evening
frolics
and
entertainments
together,
and
we
always
made
the
most
of
our
brief
holiday
hours.
We
had
also
with
us
now
the
sister
Emilie
of
my
fairy-tale
memories,
who
had
grown
into
a
strong,
earnest-hearted
woman.
We
all
looked
up
to
her
as
our
model,
and
the
ideal
of
our
heroine-worship;
for
our
deference
to
her
in
every
way
did
amount
to
that.
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