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 the dark I leaned over the banisters, watched the light stream out from the dining-room as the servants carried the dishes in and out, and listened to the cheerful buzz of voices and frequent peals of laughter as the door opened. I felt very miserable, with also a sense of guilt that I should have been so wicked as to let my name get into the Black Book, for I always accepted, without thought of resistance, the decrees of my superiors. The fact that those in authority were capable of injustice or stupidity was a perception of later growth.

The impression made by this little incident on a childish mind was curiously shown on my revisiting Bristol, after an absence of nearly forty years. Wishing to see the scene of my early childhood, I called at the Wilson Street house, and its occupants kindly allowed me to enter my old home, the home which I remembered as so large, but which then looked so small. All was changed. The pleasant walled-in garden across the street, with its fine fruit trees, where we played for hours together with a neighbour's children, was turned into a carpenter's yard. The long garden behind the house, with its fine trees, and stable opening into a back street, was built over; but as I stood in the hall and looked up, I suddenly seemed to see a little childish face peeping wistfully over the banisters, and the whole scene of that dining-room paradise, from which the child was banished, rose vividly before me.

But a stranger incident still occurred as I stood there. The sound of a latch-key was heard in the