Our nursery， a large room over a back building， had three barred windows reaching nearly to the floor. Two of these opened on a gently slanting roof over a veranda. In our night robes， on warm summer evenings we could， by dint of skillful twisting and compressing， get out between the bars， and there， snugly braced against the house， we would sit and enjoy the moon and stars and what sounds might reach us from the streets， while the nurse， gossiping at the back door， imagined we were safely asleep.
I have a confused memory of being often under punishment for what， in those days， were called "tantrums." I suppose they were really justifiable acts of rebellion against the tyranny of those in authority. I have often listened since， with real satisfaction， to what some of our friends had to say of the high-handed manner in which sister Margaret and I defied all the transient orders and strict rules laid down for our guidance. If we had observed them we might as well have been embalmed as mummies， for all the pleasure and freedom we should have had in our childhood. As very little was then done for the amusement of children， happy were those who conscientiously took the liberty of amusing themselves.
One charming feature of our village was a stream of water， called the Cayadutta， which ran through the north end， in which it was our delight to walk on the broad slate stones when the water was low， in order to pick up pretty pebbles. These joys were also forbidden， though indulged in as opportunity afforded， especially as sister Margaret's philosophy was found to work successfully and we had finally risen above our infantile fear of punishment.
Much of my freedom at this time was due to this sister， who afterward became the wife of Colonel Duncan McMartin of Iowa. I can see her now， hat in hand， her long curls flying in the wind， her nose slightly retroussé；， her large dark eyes flashing with glee， and her small straight mouth so expressive of determination. Though two years my junior， she was larger and stronger than I and more fearless and self-reliant. She was always ready to start when any pleasure offered， and， if I hesitated， she would give me a jerk and say， emphatically： "Oh， come along！" and away we went.
About this time we entered the Johnstown Academy， where we made the acquaintance of the daughters of the hotel keeper and the county sheriff.
They were a few years my senior， but， as I was ahead of them in all my studies， the difference of age was somewhat equalized and we became fast friends. This acquaintance opened to us two new sources of enjoyment杢he freedom of the hotel during "court week" (a great event in village life) and the exploration of the county jail. Our Scotch nurse had told us so many thrilling tales of castles， prisons， and dungeons in the Old World that， to see the great keys and iron doors， the handcuffs and chains， and the prisoners in their cells seemed like a veritable visit to Mary's native land. We made frequent visits to the jail and became deeply concerned about the fate of the prisoners， who were greatly pleased with our expressions of sympathy and our gifts of cake and candy. In time we became interested in the trials and sentences of prisoners， and would go to the courthouse and listen to the proceedings. Sometimes we would slip into the hotel where the judges and lawyers dined， and help our little friend wait on table.
The rushing of servants to and fro， the calling of guests， the scolding of servants in the kitchen， the banging of doors， the general hubbub， the noise and clatter， were all idealized by me into one of those royal festivals Mary so often described. To be allowed to carry plates of bread and butter， pie and cheese I counted a high privilege. But more especially I enjoyed listening to the conversations in regard to the probable fate of our friends the prisoners in the jail. On one occasion I projected a few remarks into a conversation between two lawyers， when one of them turned abruptly to me and said， "Child， you'd better attend to your business； bring me a glass of water." I replied indignantly， "I am not a servant； I am here for fun."
In all these escapades we were followed by Peter， black as coal and six feet in height. It seems to me now that his chief business was to discover our whereabouts， get us home to dinner， and take us back to school. Fortunately he was overflowing with curiosity and not averse to lingering a while where anything of interest was to be seen or heard， and， as we were deemed perfectly safe under his care， no questions were asked when we got to the house， if we had been with him. He had a long head and， through his diplomacy， we escaped much disagreeable surveillance. Peter was very fond of attending court. All the lawyers knew him， and wherever Peter went， the three little girls in his charge went， too. Thus， with constant visits to the jail， courthouse， and my father's office， I gleaned some idea of the danger of violating the law.
