Page 289 - The Story of My Lif

one hand, then make believe to write it; then spell, “sick in bed,” and write that.

She kept this up for nearly an hour. She was (or imagined she was) putting on
paper the things which had interested her. When she had finished the letter she
carried it to her mother and spelled, “Frank letter,” and gave it to her brother to
take to the post-office. She had been with me to take letters to the post-office.

She recognizes instantly a person whom she has once met, and spells the name.

Unlike Laura Bridgman, she is fond of gentlemen, and we notice that she makes
friends with a gentleman sooner than with a lady.

She is always ready to share whatever she has with those about her, often
keeping but very little for herself. She is very fond of dress and of all kinds of
finery, and is very unhappy when she finds a hole in anything she is wearing.

She will insist on having her hair put in curl papers when she is so sleepy she
can scarcely stand. She discovered a hole in her boot the other morning, and,
after breakfast, she went to her father and spelled, “Helen new boot Simpson
(her brother) buggy store man.”

One can easily see her meaning.

July 3, 1887.

There was a great rumpus downstairs this morning. I heard Helen screaming, and
ran down to see what was the matter. I found her in a terrible passion. I had
hoped this would never happen again.

She has been so gentle and obedient the past two months, I thought love had
subdued the lion; but it seems he was only sleeping. At all events, there she was,
tearing and scratching and biting Viney like some wild thing. It seems Viney had
attempted to take a glass, which Helen was filling with stones, fearing that she
would break it. Helen resisted, and Viney tried to force it out of her hand, and I
suspect that she slapped the child, or did something which caused this unusual