Over two million Girl Scouts worldwide owe their membership to its founder, Juliette Low—a woman who, as a girl growing up in the post–Civil War South, refused to accept that girls couldn’t do everything boys could. Whether angrily defending her friend against taunts of schoolmates or rescuing a kitten from the highest branches of a tree, Low possessed the spirit and strength of character that would lead her in adulthood to act as a world-famous advocate for girls. Children will experience Low’s joy at the gift of her very own horse, feel her excitement at attending her first dance, and share her frustration with being thrust in to the role of a well-behaved 19th-century young lady who would rather have been riding, creating sculptures, or climbing.
Chapter 7
The Lady from JapanMost of Miss Blois’ pupils went to Sunday school at Old Christ Church on Johnson Square. Daisy [which was Juliette’s nickname] liked going there almost more than day school. Miss Anne, her teacher, had once been a missionary.
Miss Anne was like Grandpa Kinzie. She said that all the people in the world could be friends if they only knew one another well enough. She said that most little girls she had known liked the same things, whether their skins were white or dark or yellow. She still received letters from Japan and Korea and India, where she had lived.
When Daisy listened to Miss Anne tell a story, she forgot she was sitting with Sadie and her other friends. She felt she was right there in the foreign land.
One rainy Sunday when the three Gordons reached the church, they saw Miss Anne talking to a strange woman. The stranger had black hair, with long gold pins in it. She wore a gray dress with loose, full sleeves.
”It looks like Mamma’s wrapper,” Daisy whispered. “What funny eyes she has, all slanty! But pretty.”
The bell rang and Miss Anne introduced the guest. “Children, when I was in Japan, I lived next door to Miss Osawa,” she said. “She and I have been good friends for many years. After we sing our songs for her, she is going to tell us about the Japanese children.”
Daisy left her seat in the fourth row and took an empty one in the front row, even if this did put her with the babies.
Miss Osawa talked about her pupils in her far-away land, and Daisy listened to every word. Then she told about the doll and the silver fish.
”When a little girl is born in my country,” Miss Osawa began, “her papa fastens a brightly colored paper doll on a long stick outside the front door. When the neighbors see this they nod their head and say,’Ah, our new friend is a girl. She will always be played with and cared for like the doll which hangs before the house.’
”But if a boy baby comes to the house, the father hurries outside with a fish made of silver paper. He puts it on the stick.
”’Yes,’” say the neighbors, ‘the little lad will be like a fish. He will always have trouble getting what he wants. He will often swim against the tide as only a man can, but he will win out in the end.’”
”Couldn’t girls do that too?” Daisy Gordon asked.
”No, my dear,” said Miss Osawa. “There are many things little girls can’t do that boys can.”
Daisy listened to the rest of the stories with one ear. She was thinking. “That lady can’t tell me one thing I can’t do that boys can,” she whispered to herself.