Yes, the mutang should return the image, and the yen that Helen had offered should go to himself.
This decision was barely rendered when there came a communication from his chief wife. He appeared to frown over it for a few moments, all the while smoking hard. Then he further announced, and in the most laconic manner, that Helen was to sacrifice her hair ere receiving the image.
A cry of dismay escaped Helen, while Dorothy, hot with indignation, began to pour out her protests, first to the magistrate, then to Helen.
"It can't be done! You can't think of such a thing! Don't! Don't!"
"Oh, yes," said Helen, who had now grown strangely quiet and calm. "It isn't such a dreadful sacrifice, dear. There are many far worse. I can endure it. My hair will grow out again. Oh, surely it is worth this when we remember what it means to get back the miriok!"
All the while she was speaking, though she was looking at Dorothy, yet Helen saw those mournful eyes that she knew were fixed upon her from the other side of the room.
"Take the scissors, Dorothy," she entreated. "I had forgotten until now that I had my folding ones here in the little case in my pocket. Oh, it will be so much better for you to do it, dear, for I couldn't bear any of those rude hands to touch me."
Dorothy took the scissors, but still making vigorous protest.
"Do, Dorothy, do, my dear," pleaded Helen.
With trembling hand Dorothy grasped the rich, shining braid. The scissors were raised; but ere the two gleaming blades could close on the glossy strand, a voice cried out authoritatively: