came one day into the pleasant light of may, knowing that before she entered it again, she would have made her mother’s heart as sore as her own. all day, and for many days, she had been planning what she should say to her mother, for she felt that it must be farewell.
if you know not of two ways which to choose, take that which is roughest and least pleasing to yourself, and the chances are it will be the right one, said she to herself. i read that in a book once, but it’s ill choosing when both are rough, and i know not what to do.
out into the 