No,"
suddenly correcting herself, "not man, but women, women and children."
"Women and dear little children our enemies?" said I, in astonishment.
"The pretty ladies who speak so sweet and kind! The pretty ladies who
gather roses in the garden! Would they deprive us of life?"
My mother nodded.
"Yes," she answered, "the pretty ladies, the wicked ladies."
CHAPTER II
DICKEY DOWNY'S MEDITATION
It hath the excuse of youth.
--_Shakespeare._
That night I pondered long upon what my mother had told me. Ever since
I left my shell I had been taught to respect my elders, and that it was
a mark of ill manners and bad breeding for children to question the
superior knowledge of those much older than themselves.
Notwithstanding this, in my secret heart I could not help thinking that
my mother was mistaken in her estimate of women when she called them
wicked. She had surely misjudged them. However, I took good care not
to mention these doubts to her.
I had heard from my grandmother, who had traveled a great deal from the
tropics to the North and back again, that women were the leaders in the
churches and were foremost in all Christian and philanthropic work;
that they provided beautiful homes for orphan children, where they took
care of them and nursed them when they were sick.
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