“Oh,” said the little girl, apparently satisfied.
Each now scuffed less energetically with her shoe; feet slowed down; so did conversation, and, for a time, Jane and the stranger wrapped themselves in stillness, though there may have been some silent communing between them. Then the new neighbor placed her feet far apart and leaned backward upon nothing, curving her front outward and her remarkably flexible spine inward until a profile view of her was grandly semicircular.
Jane watched her attentively, but without comment. However, no one could have doubted that the processes of acquaintance were progressing favorably.
“Let's go in our yard,” said Jane.
The little girl straightened herself with a slight gasp, and accepted the invitation. Side by side, the two passed through the open gate, walked gravely forth upon the lawn, and halted, as by common consent. Jane thereupon placed her feet wide apart and leaned backward upon nothing, attempting the feat in contortion just performed by the stranger.
“Look,” she said. “Look at ME!”
But she lacked the other's genius, lost her balance, and fell. Born persistent, she immediately got to her feet and made fresh efforts.
“No! Look at ME!” the little girl cried, becoming semicircular again. “This is the way. I call it 'puttin' your stummick out o' joint.' You haven't got yours out far enough.”
“Yes, I have,” said Jane, gasping.
“Well, to do it right, you must WALK that way. As soon as you get your stummick out o' joint, you must begin an' walk. Look! Like this.” And the little girl, having achieved a state of such convexity that her braided hair almost touched the ground behind her, walked successfully in that singular attitude.