The wee man chuckled mightily, and narrowly [[54]]escaped having a portion of his ear severed by the barber’s sharp scissors.
“I know the colony, Tom Brock,” he replied. “No one better. Ha, ha!”
The hairdresser was staggered, but he came again to the charge.
“Beautiful hair, yours, sir, fine and soft as silk. It doesn’t seem to be much shorter, after all I’ve cut off.”
“Cut it short, Tom. Ho, ho, ho!”
“Very dull times, sir,” said Tom, not relishing his customer’s disagreeable laugh.
“It’s very dull indeed for you, Tom Brock,” answered the wee man, with a knowing leer.
“Why for me, sir?”
“Because the lease of your shop expires next Monday, Tom, and you haven’t a penny saved to renew it. That’s why,” responded the customer quietly.
Some people when they are astonished can be tumbled over with a feather, but it would have taken a blow from a large stick to have knocked our hero down. He appeared rooted to the boards, and his eyes and mouth opened considerably.