That did not sound very threatening.
"We are to get pepper and horseradish."
Mr. Reed nodded, folded his paper and, slipping it into his pocket, settled his hat.
"Mother may think of something else."
She positively couldn't. She considered that it saved time to do errands when you were going out, and she spent a great deal of time trying to think how to save it.
They walked down First Avenue past Houston Street. Almost at the end of the next block there was a barber-pole with its stripes running round. The barber-pole and the Indian at the cigar shops were features of that day, as well.
"Wouldn't you like to have your hair cut, Charles?" inquired his father.
The world swam round so that Charles was minded to clutch the barber-pole, but he bethought himself in time that it was dusty. He looked at his father in amaze.
"Oh, don't be a ninny! No one will take your head off. Come, you're big enough boy to go to the barber's."
The palace of delight seemed opening before the boy. No one can rightly understand his satisfaction at this late day. The mothers, you see, used to cut hair as they thought was right, and nearly every mother had a different idea except those whose idea was simply to cut it off.