She slipped out of bed and walked to and fro, holding her aching
head with both hands. Finally she leaned on the window-sill,
watching the still weather-vane on Alice's barn and breathing in
the fragrance of the ripening apples, until her restlessness
subsided under the clear starry beauty of the night.
At six in the morning the girls were out of bed, for Alice could
hardly wait until Rebecca's hair was taken down, she was so eager
to see the result of her labors.
The leads and rags were painfully removed, together with much
hair, the operation being punctuated by a series of squeaks,
squeals, and shrieks on the part of Rebecca and a series of
warnings from Alice, who wished the preliminaries to be kept
secret from the aunts, that they might the more fully appreciate
the radiant result.
Then came the unbraiding, and then--dramatic moment--the "comb-
ing out;" a difficult, not to say impossible process, in which
the hairs that had resisted the earlier stages almost gave up the
ghost.
The long front strands had been wound up from various angles and
by various methods, so that, when released, they assumed the
strangest, most obstinate, most unexpected attitudes. When the
comb was dragged through the last braid, the wild, tortured,
electric hairs following, and then rebounding from it in a
bristling, snarling tangle, Massachusetts gave one encompassing
glance at the State o' Maine's head, and announced her intention
of going home to breakfast! Alice was deeply grieved at the
result of her attempted beautifying, but she felt that meeting
Miss Miranda Sawyer at the morning meal would not mend matters in
the least, so slipping out of the side door, she ran up Guide-
Board hill as fast as her feet could carry her.