It became evident before long that Mliss had also noticed the same resemblance.
Accordingly she hammered its waxen head on the rocks when she was alone, and sometimes dragged it with a string round its neck to and from school.

At other times, setting it up on her desk, she made a pincushion of its patient and inoffensive body.

Whether this was done in revenge of what she considered a second figurative obtrusion of Clytie's excellences upon her, or whether she had an intuitive appreciation of the rites of certain other heathens, and, indulging in that "fetish" ceremony, imagined that the original of her wax model would pine away and finally die, is a metaphysical question I shall not now consider.
In spite of these moral vagaries, the master could not help noticing in her different tasks the working of a quick, restless, and vigorous perception.

She knew neither the hesitancy nor the doubts of childhood.
Her answers in class were always slightly dashed with audacity.

Of course she was not infallible.