Looking Backward by Ruth Collie — Read

I can remember many childhood joys, a cashmere frock my mother made / for me; a woolly lamb, best loved of many toys; mauve frock, white / lamb, and little girl of three. I can remember (Oh! I'm full of / shame) picking big holes in mother's gingerbread. And when she asked / me for the culprit's name, "It must have been the flies," I calmly / said. I can remember a laburnam tree spanning a river with its arch / of gold. And stored for ever in my memory are all the Fairy Tales my / father told. I'll ne'er forget a little magic door, a little shiny / gate of yellow wood. Through it I passed whene'er the clock struck / four (provided that I really had been good). Then down a hill, quite / steep and very wide, a perilous descent to Paradise! The / drawing-room door -- and I was safe inside, and reached the haven of my / mother's eyes.