"How did this--how did this happen?" said Trescott.
Now Jimmie could have explained how had happened anything which had
happened, but he did not know what had happened, so he said,
"I--I--nothin'."
"And, oh, look at her frock!" said Mrs. Trescott, brokenly.
[Illustration: "'LOOK!' SHE DECLAIMED"]
The words turned the mind of the mother of the angel child. She looked
up, her eyes blazing. "Frock!" she repeated. "Frock! What do I care
for her frock? Frock!" she choked out again from the depths of her
bitterness. Then she arose suddenly, and whirled tragically upon her
husband. "Look!" she declaimed. "All--her lovely--hair--all her lovely
hair--gone--gone!" The painter was apparently in a fit; his jaw was
set, his eyes were glazed, his body was stiff and straight.
"All gone--all--her lovely hair--all gone--my poor little
darlin'--my--poor--little--darlin'!" And the angel child added her
heart-broken voice to her mother's wail as they fled into each other's
arms.
In the mean time Trescott was patiently unravelling some skeins of
Jimmie's tangled intellect. "And then you went to this barber's on the
hill. Yes. And where did you get the money? Yes. I see. And who
besides you and Cora had their hair cut? The Margate twi--Oh, lord!"
Over at the Margate place old Eldridge Margate, the grandfather of the
twins, was in the back garden picking pease and smoking ruminatively
to himself. Suddenly he heard from the house great noises. Doors
slammed, women rushed up-stairs and down-stairs calling to each other
in voices of agony. And then full and mellow upon the still air arose
the roar of the twins in pain.
Old Eldridge stepped out of the pea-patch and moved towards the house,
puzzled, staring, not yet having decided that it was his duty to rush
forward. Then around the corner of the house shot his daughter Mollie,
her face pale with horror.
"What's the matter?" he cried.
"Oh, father," she gasped, "the children! They--"
Then around the corner of the house came the twins, howling at the top
of their power, their faces flowing with tears. They were still hand
in hand, the ruling passion being strong even in this suffering. At
sight of them old Eldridge took his pipe hastily out of his mouth.
"Good God!" he said.
* * * * *
And now what befell one William Neeltje, a barber by trade? And what
was said by angry parents of the mother of such an angel child? And
what was the fate of the angel child herself?
There was surely a tempest. With the exception of the Margate twins,
the boys could well be eliminated from the affair. Of course it
didn't matter if their hair was cut. Also the two little Phelps girls
had had very short hair, anyhow, and their parents were not too
greatly incensed. In the case of Ella Earl, it was mainly the pathos
of the little girl's own grieving; but her mother played a most
generous part, and called upon Mrs. Trescott, and condoled with the
mother of the angel child over their equivalent losses. But the
Margate contingent! They simply screeched.
[Illustration: "AROUND THE CORNER OF THE HOUSE CAME THE TWINS"]
Trescott, composed and cool-blooded, was in the middle of a giddy
whirl. He was not going to allow the mobbing of his wife's cousins,
nor was he going to pretend that the spoliation of the Margate twins
was a virtuous and beautiful act. He was elected, gratuitously, to the
position of a buffer.
But, curiously enough, the one who achieved the bulk of the misery was
old Eldridge Margate, who had been picking pease at the time. The
feminine Margates stormed his position as individuals, in pairs, in
teams, and _en masse_. In two days they may have aged him seven years.
He must destroy the utter Neeltje. He must midnightly massacre the
angel child and her mother. He must dip his arms in blood to the
elbows.
Trescott took the first opportunity to express to him his concern over
the affair, but when the subject of the disaster was mentioned, old
Eldridge, to the doctor's great surprise, actually chuckled long and
deeply. "Oh, well, look-a-here," he said. "I never was so much in love
with them there damn curls. The curls was purty--yes--but then I'd a
darn sight rather see boys look more like boys than like two little
wax figgers. An', ye know, the little cusses like it themselves.
_They_ never took no stock in all this washin' an' combin' an' fixin'
an' goin' to church an' paradin' an' showin' off. They stood it
because they were told to. That's all. Of course this here
Neel-te-gee, er whatever his name is, is a plumb dumb ijit, but I
don't see what's to be done, now that the kids is full well cropped. I
might go and burn his shop over his head, but that wouldn't bring no
hair back onto the kids. They're even kicking on sashes now, and
that's all right, 'cause what fer does a boy want a sash?"
Whereupon Trescott perceived that the old man wore his brains above
his shoulders, and Trescott departed from him rejoicing greatly that
it was only women who could not know that there was finality to most
disasters, and that when a thing was fully done, no amount of
door-slammings, rushing up-stairs and down-stairs, calls,
lamentations, tears, could bring back a single hair to the heads of
twins.
[Illustration: AT THE RAILWAY STATION]
But the rains came and the winds blew in the most biblical way when a
certain fact came to light in the Trescott household. Little Cora,
corroborated by Jimmie, innocently remarked that five dollars had been
given her by her father on her birthday, and with this money the evil
had been wrought. Trescott had known it, but he--thoughtful man--had
said nothing. For her part, the mother of the angel child had up to
that moment never reflected that the consummation of the wickedness
must have cost a small sum of money. But now it was all clear to her.
He was the guilty one--he! "My angel child!"
The scene which ensued was inspiriting. A few days later, loungers at
the railway station saw a lady leading a shorn and still undaunted
lamb. Attached to them was a husband and father, who was plainly
bewildered, but still more plainly vexed, as if he would be saying:
"Damn 'em! Why can't they leave me alone?"