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The Woodlanders

Page 7

"Hush--father's up-stairs awake, and he don't know that I am doing his

work."

"Well, now tell me," said the man, more softly. "How much do you get?"

"Eighteenpence a thousand," she said, reluctantly.

"Who are you making them for?"

"Mr. Melbury, the timber-dealer, just below here."

"And how many can you make in a day?"

"In a day and half the night, three bundles--that's a thousand and a

half."

"Two and threepence." The barber paused. "Well, look here," he

continued, with the remains of a calculation in his tone, which

calculation had been the reduction to figures of the probable monetary

magnetism necessary to overpower the resistant force of her present

purse and the woman's love of comeliness, "here's a sovereign--a gold

sovereign, almost new." He held it out between his finger and thumb.

"That's as much as you'd earn in a week and a half at that rough man's

work, and it's yours for just letting me snip off what you've got too

much of."

The girl's bosom moved a very little. "Why can't the lady send to some

other girl who don't value her hair--not to me?" she exclaimed.

"Why, simpleton, because yours is the exact shade of her own, and 'tis

a shade you can't match by dyeing. But you are not going to refuse me

now I've come all the way from Sherton o' purpose?"

"I say I won't sell it--to you or anybody."

"Now listen," and he drew up a little closer beside her. "The lady is

very rich, and won't be particular to a few shillings; so I will

advance to this on my own responsibility--I'll make the one sovereign

two, rather than go back empty-handed."

"No, no, no!" she cried, beginning to be much agitated. "You are

a-tempting me, Mr. Percombe. You go on like the Devil to Dr. Faustus

in the penny book. But I don't want your money, and won't agree. Why

did you come? I said when you got me into your shop and urged me so

much, that I didn't mean to sell my hair!" The speaker was hot and

stern.

"Marty, now hearken. The lady that wants it wants it badly. And,

between you and me, you'd better let her have it. 'Twill be bad for

you if you don't."

"Bad for me? Who is she, then?"

The barber held his tongue, and the girl repeated the question.

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