The Copy-Cat, and Other Stories

In Short

This collection of short stories explores the inner lives of nineteenth-century New Englanders, focusing on those who live at the periphery of social expectation. Whether it is a "copy-cat" child imitating a friend, a man retreating into the woods to escape the pressures of farm life, or a woman reclaiming her autonomy, the characters navigate complex emotional landscapes beneath a surface of rigid decorum. These stories have endured because they treat the small, domestic struggles of ordinary people with immense dignity, exposing the quiet ironies and profound humanity that exist in the most sequestered corners of life.

The Story

The collection opens with the tale of Amelia Wheeler, a girl struggling with her own identity, who becomes a self-appointed shadow to a vain, manipulative classmate. This dynamic introduces a recurring theme: the way social hierarchies and external appearances constrain the truth of a person’s character. As the volume progresses, the stories shift between the lives of children—who experiment with morality, petty mischief, and even the "murder" of an aunt—and the lives of adults, whose conflicts are often rooted in the heavy weight of inherited property and stifling social obligation.

In many of these tales, characters reach a breaking point where the performance of their social role becomes impossible to maintain. One story follows a man named Christopher who simply stops farming, choosing to sit and observe nature while his wife and niece quietly manage the household’s survival. In another, a woman finds herself burdened by the accumulation of a relative’s useless belongings, eventually choosing to purge the past through a series of symbolic bonfires. The narrative frequently moves toward these moments of "balking"—a deliberate refusal to continue living as dictated by others.

The final stories often involve a return to a new kind of equilibrium. Characters who have been isolated by their secrets or their defiance find ways to reconcile with their families. In the case of Annie, a young woman who has effectively left her home, the resolution comes when she returns to find her sisters have gained a new perspective on their shared life. The arc of the book is not one of dramatic, outward change, but of internal shift. It tracks the movement from a state of being "cowed" or "singular" to a state of acceptance. The endings are rarely clean or triumphant; they are realistic, tempered by the knowledge that while one can change their own circumstances, they must still exist within the web of their community. The protagonists do not escape their environments so much as they transform their relationship to them, finding a quiet, private happiness that survives even when the rest of the village continues to gossip or misunderstand their motives.

How It Unfolds

The burden of imitation The collection begins by examining how young people, like Amelia, lose themselves in the attempt to mirror the perceived social superiority of others. This theme sets the stage for a broader investigation of how societal pressure stunts individual growth.

The shift toward individual refusal Characters like Christopher and the weary householders begin to question the necessity of their daily labor and the validity of their social performance. They demonstrate that the simplest act of defiance—doing nothing at all—can be a radical reclamation of the self.

The confrontation of secrets As the stories progress, the narrative unearths the hidden shame and private lives of the villagers, from the "taint of prison" in a wanderer’s memory to the strange, invented lives of children. These revelations force the characters to move from deception toward a fragile, lived truth.

The possibility of reconciliation The final beats focus on the return home, where the protagonists—no longer the same people who left—must find a way to live alongside the family members who once stifled them. The tension between wanting to be understood and the reality of being misjudged provides a final, poignant resolution.

The People

Amelia Wheeler begins as a "copy-cat," defined entirely by her desperate need to be like the charming Lily Jennings. Her journey is one of learning to exist outside of another's shadow, though she remains perpetually vulnerable to her own tragic imaginations. Lily Jennings, by contrast, is a natural manipulator who uses the moral vacuum of her childhood to orchestrate the lives of those around her, including the boys Johnny and Arnold. She is a fascinating portrait of precocious power.

Christopher Dodd serves as the archetype of the man who breaks under the weight of social duty. His refusal to farm is not laziness, but a spiritual awakening that baffles his family. His wife, Myrtle, and his niece, Ellen, represent the resilience of the women left to pick up the pieces, eventually finding their own agency by managing the farm without his help. Annie, the final central figure, is the most successful of the rebels. Her deliberate withdrawal from her stifling, order-obsessed family forces them to recognize her value. She returns not as a submissive daughter, but as a person who has asserted her own boundaries, allowing the family to finally see her as a distinct individual rather than a mere extension of their household.

In Its Own Voice

"She was that rather unusual creature, a child with a definite ideal; and that ideal was Lily Jennings."

Amelia’s internal life is described as a strange, singular devotion that puzzles her mother and grandmothers.

"Yes, steal cats, in order to do right," said Johnny Trumbull, and his expression was heroic, even exalted.

Johnny attempts to justify his moral mischief by reframing the theft of Jim Simmons’s neglected cats as an act of altruism.

"They knew how to grow young every spring."

Christopher finds a peace in the cycles of nature that makes his previous life of human labor seem empty and unnecessary.

What It's Really About

The central argument of the book is that the appearance of a virtuous, orderly life is often a thin veil for deep-seated unhappiness and internal discord. The characters are caught between the "letter of the Ten Commandments"—the rigid, external laws of their society—and their own, often messy, inner realities. The book asks: what does it cost to be "good" in a community that values conformity above all else? It suggests that the most profound act of integrity is often the one that looks like failure to the outside world. By focusing on the quiet, domestic space, the stories argue that the most significant battles for personal freedom are not fought on grand stages, but in kitchens, sitting rooms, and along the paths of a vacant lot.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate slow, character-driven fiction will find much to admire in these stories. The prose is precise, capturing the rhythms of New England life with a warmth that never veers into sentimentality. It is a quiet book, and its rewards are found in the subtle shifts of a character’s expression or the sudden, sharp realization that a neighbor is not who they appear to be.

However, a modern reader should be prepared for the period-specific attitudes that permeate the text. The social hierarchies are strict, and the dialect and social manners of the late nineteenth century can occasionally feel distant or difficult to navigate. There is also a pervasive sense of tragedy—the "sordid, tragic, ludicrous facts" of life—that some may find heavy. Yet, the emotional core remains remarkably current. The anxiety of being misunderstood, the exhaustion of performing a role for the sake of one's family, and the search for a private sanctuary in a public world are struggles that feel as relevant today as they did when these stories were first written. You will likely walk away from this book with a heightened sensitivity to the lives of those around you, realizing that everyone you pass on the street is holding their own quiet, complex secret.