From under my hat (1952)

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From under my Hat winter sports, that Medusa's grin on her faee, I flew at her and scratched her so she couldn't put her face out the door for two weeks. She told people the cat scratched her. She was so right! But that broke her of the habit of using my things first. Dora had sense enough not to display her bossy airs around her beaux. She managed to get quite attractive ones. One in particular I would have liked to take away from her. He was a doctor, a hero of the Spanish-American War, who lived somewhere in the Middle West. If he were to take me for a bride, I could escape from Altoona. I'd have married a gorilla to do that. Not Dora. For all her show of independence, she liked staying close to Mother. Dora, tall, dark, with Mother's dark eyes, was insecure but not unattractive. Though she didn't have much style or any flair for touches, she was versatile and a hard worker. As for her beau the doctor, he didn't interest her half as much as he did me. I was attracted to him too much for my own good, and when I hit on a scheme to get his attention it backfired. Three nights a week he came courting Dora. On those nights I was sent to bed early. One night I put on my prettiest nightgownit wasn't much, but I sewed a few baby-blue ribbon bows on it here and there to perk it up— and went downstairs to appear before him, pretending I was walking in my sleep. I opened the door of the parlor and walked right in, stiff-legged, with glassy, unseeing eyesseeing everything, naturally. My sister Dora screamed in maidenly horror— I never did catch her on his lap, alas— and in a confusion of vagueness I wheeled and stalked upstairs. In my room I bounced back into bed. If my father needed any proof that this was no sleepwalker, which he did not, he had it when he heard me bounce into bed. In the morning, though I swore I didn't know what in the world he was talking about, Dad dealt out a couple of good whacks. I put on a big show of injured innocence. He couldn't prove I wasn't walking in my sleep. A girl ought not to be punished unless there was an admitted sin. I had to raise a son of my own before disproving that line of reasoning. Despite my licking, I was still not cured of the craze to capture 26