Chapter 14 - (VERSO)
thought anybody who was thirty eight was a perfect female Methuselah. And now I feel so horribly, ridiculously young, Louisa. Every morning when I get up I have to say solemnly to myself three times, ‘You’re an old maid, Nancy Rogerson,’ to tone myself down to anything like a becoming attitude for the day.”
“I guess you don’t mind being an old maid much,” said Louisa, shrugging her shoulders. She would not have been an old maid herself for anything; yet she inconsistently envied Nancy her freedom, her wide life in the world, her unlined brow, and care-free lightness of spirit.
“Oh, but I do mind,” said Nancy frankly. “I hate being an old maid.”
Note the crossing of the "t" makes the second digit look like a 1.
From "The End of a Quarrel."