"You are ceasing to be a mere child," resumed her uncle, severely.
"That cannot be," Miss Lou interrupted. "You and aunt speak to me as
you did years ago when I was a child. Can you expect me to have a
woman's form and not a woman's mind? Are women told exactly what
they must think and do, like little children? Aunt threatens to
forbid visits to my old mammy. If I were but five years old she
couldn't do more. You speak of marrying me to my cousin as if I had
merely the form and appearance of a woman, and no mind or wishes of
my own. I have never said I wanted to marry him or any one."
"Why, Louise, you are verging toward flat rebellion," gasped her
uncle, laying down his knife and fork.
"Oh, no, uncle! I'm merely growing up. You should have kept the
library locked; you should never have had me taught to read, if you
expected me to become the mere shell of a woman, having no ideas of
my own."
"We wish you to have ideas, and have tried to inculcate right
ideas."
"Which means only your ideas, uncle.
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