Sarah Jane

“Ev’rybody’s poor, aren’t they, Billy?” “All the nicest people are,” he replied. Billy was a “war baby.” He had a message from General Lee congratulating him on being born, and was quite wise. I was only a “since-the-war” baby. I climbed on a cricket table and looked at myself in the mahogany-framed glass hanging over Gran’munny’s dimity dressing table. I decided a girl with a shingled head was utterly, hopelessly ugly, and I wondered why God hadn’t made me a boy. What place would there be ...