bravely behind the breastworks and rained snowballs on the defenders of the opposite fort. The girls were almost prostrate in the deep snow behind—out of danger of being hit in the face—packing snowballs for the throwers. And I, GIRL-BOYWISE, did as they, the eternal impropriety never dawning on me.
But one of the girls cried out: "Why are you not throwing snowballs with the boys? Afraid of getting hit, are you? Why don't you put on petticoats?"
After I retired that night, I had not yet recovered from my speechless chagrin. "Why was it that I was not taking a boy's place in life? Why did I sit upright when coasting? Why did I feel more at home in girls' attire? Why did the boys tease me just as they did the girls? Could it be that I was a girl imprisoned in the body of a boy?
"How could I face manhood? Are men under compulsion to go and vote? But how could I push my way into the crowd of rough men always hanging [at that period] around the polling places?
"How terrible to be a boy! Couldn't I take papa's razor and in a minute rid myself of the excrescence? A razor ought to be sharp enough to do the job! God, change my body this moment by a miracle! Turn me into a girl!" I sobbed.
One day, being a goody-goody, I had felt it my duty to tell the teacher on a mischievous boy. As I left the school for my train, I was seized violently. "If you were a big, strong fellow like us, we would give you a good thrashing! We'll only see if we can lift you off the ground by your hair. The more you cry, the better we like it. Keep your hands down!
