”“Yeah, right,” her eyes said. She shook her head no.Ignoring her appeal, I placed the choice ofinstruments beneath her nose: A thic... woodenhairbrush, a leather strop, a wooden paddle, and alarge wooden spoon. All were big enough for the job.I left the cane on the fireplace.After beseeching me one last time, Michelle touchedthe paddle with her nose. I replaced the other itemsand patted her tenderly on the butt. Cammy, her highcolor now somewhat muted, watched with a. Glenda did not, opting for a more manageable, shorter cut. If she had allowed her tresses to develop, she might have rubbed away some of her plainness. It would have added some depth to her countenance.There was another feature in Glenda's visage that created a barrier between her and the world. Whatever were her inner mood or thoughts, they could not be discerned in her expression by another person. When she would smile, her thin lips would curl on cue, but no laugh lines would appear around. More

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