Page 272 - The Story of My Lif

effect of a little belated discipline. I went back to the dining-room and got a

napkin. When Helen came upstairs for her lesson, I arranged the objects on the
table as usual, except that the cake, which I always give her in bits as a reward
when she spells a word quickly and correctly, was not there. She noticed this at
once and made the sign for it. I showed her the napkin and pinned it round her
neck, then tore it off and threw it on the floor and shook my head. I repeated this
performance several times. I think she understood perfectly well; for she slapped
her hand two or three times and shook her head.

We began the lesson as usual. I gave her an object, and she spelled the name (she
knows twelve now). After spelling half the words, she stopped suddenly, as if a
thought had flashed into her mind, and felt for the napkin. She pinned it round
her neck and made the sign for cake (it didn’t occur to her to spell the word, you
see). I took this for a promise that if I gave her some cake she would be a good
girl. I gave her a larger piece than usual, and she chuckled and patted herself.

April 3, 1887.

We almost live in the garden, where everything is growing and blooming and
glowing. After breakfast we go out and watch the men at work. Helen loves to
dig and play in the dirt like any other child. This morning she planted her doll
and showed me that she expected her to grow as tall as I. You must see that she
is very bright, but you have no idea how cunning she is.

At ten we come in and string beads for a few minutes. She can make a great
many combinations now, and often invents new ones herself. Then I let her
decide whether she will sew or knit or crochet. She learned to knit very quickly,
and is making a wash-cloth for her mother. Last week she made her doll an
apron, and it was done as well as any child of her age could do it. But I am
always glad when this work is over for the day. Sewing and crocheting are
inventions of the devil, I think. I’d rather break stones on the king’s highway
than hem a handkerchief. At eleven we have gymnastics. She knows all the free-
hand movements and the “Anvil Chorus” with the dumb-bells. Her father says
he is going to fit up a gymnasium for her in the pump-house; but we both like a