PART 1
15. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
(continued)
"Oh, he was a little man who looked as if he merely lived to oil
his hair. He rather stared at first, as if he wasn't used to having
girls bounce into his shop and ask him to buy their hair. He said he
didn't care about mine, it wasn't the fashionable color, and he never
paid much for it in the first place. The work he put it into it made
it dear, and so on. It was getting late, and I was afraid if it
wasn't done right away that I shouldn't have it done at all, and you
know when I start to do a thing, I hate to give it up. So I begged
him to take it, and told him why I was in such a hurry. It was
silly, I dare say, but it changed his mind, for I got rather excited,
and told the story in my topsy-turvy way, and his wife heard, and
said so kindly, `Take it, Thomas, and oblige the young lady. I'd do
as much for our Jimmy any day if I had a spire of hair worth selling."
"Who was Jimmy?" asked Amy, who liked to have things explained
as they went along.
"Her son, she said, who was in the army. How friendly such
things make strangers feel, don't they? She talked away all the
time the man clipped, and diverted my mind nicely."
"Didn't you feel dreadfully when the first cut came?" asked
Meg, with a shiver.
"I took a last look at my hair while the man got his things,
and that was the end of it. I never snivel over trifles like that.
I will confess, though, I felt queer when I saw the dear old hair
laid out on the table, and felt only the short rough ends of my head.
It almost seemed as if I'd an arm or leg off. The woman saw me look
at it, and picked out a long lock for me to keep. I'll give it to
you, Marmee, just to remember past glories by, for a crop is so
comfortable I don't think I shall ever have a mane again."
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