Thenceforth the pretty hair was brushed and brushed; and finding it still continued somewhat dry, Leo made almost her first purchase in the neighbouring town. She procured a wash--only a simple, vegetable concoction, but it answered the purpose--and there were great results.
Next, a manicure box which was among her possessions, but had lain about unused after it ceased to be a novelty, was brought into play. To confess the truth, Leo's hands were not her strong point, but hands and fingers can look better or worse according to the care bestowed on them, and there was now at least nothing to be ashamed of when she put on her rings. She began to wear her rings regularly.
And searching about for something else to do, she unearthed some weird implements, the sight of which made her laugh. With what zest she had once thrown herself into the new game of physical culture which all her friends were playing, and what fun she had thought it--for a time! Her supple joints had enabled her to accomplish feats beyond the reach of most, and she had attended drilling-classes and fencing-classes, and gained glory at both. She now fixed up a hook or two in her room, and found she could still do this and that, though she had lost the knack of the more difficult. To regain these, ropes and pulleys were worked vigorously,--and being once started, invention was called to aid, and there were all sorts of varied performances. Finally she volunteered to become a teacher; but though Maud and Sybil condescended so far as to look on, and even make a few half-hearted efforts, they were soon discouraged. They were not clumsy, but they were stiff; their bones were set; beside them Leo seemed to be made of elastic.
These trifles were, as we have said, the solace of our little girl's happier moods--at least they did something towards whiling away the uneventful days,--but perhaps they might almost have been better left undone, since the more healthful and beautiful she became, the more the leaven of rebellious discontent worked within.
It seemed a shame that she should be so strong and well and winsome, and there be nothing and no one to win. It was an injustice, a waste. And was it to go on for ever? Was she to go on through a long, long life--life stretches very far ahead at twenty-one--crawling on her hands and knees, when she could have stepped out so boldly, head in air?