Then she used to open her eyes wide to the fact of her
girlhood and have little seasons of despair.
This had been going on a long time, the visions, their destruction
by facts, and the consequent despair; for, of course, she had always
believed there was nothing to be done. And now here was one telling
her that something could be done--that she, even she, the little girl
Mollie, had equal rights with boys, and that it was not only her
privilege but her duty to claim them. Here was one exhorting her to
throw off the yoke of her girlhood, talking of a glorious career that
might be hers, of emancipation and liberty, of a womanhood grand as
manhood itself. And how the tremendous sentiments, so beautifully
uttered, thrilled through Mollie from the crown of her hat to the toes
of her boots! She would have given worlds for one glance from that
bravest of her sex who had thrown off the yoke, and for a chance to
ask her just how she did it. For while Mollie had fully made up her
mind to wear her yoke no longer, she did not know exactly by what
means to become an emancipated creature.
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