"Not sick, exactly," Sube improvised cautiously. "The doctor says it's his mind—"
"His mind!" gasped Mrs. McInness. "Is his mind affected?"
"What?—Well—it's more his—his nerves! You see, he can't bear to look at anybody who needs a haircut. It makes him nervous, you see. And he told me to get my hair cut this afternoon, but I was so busy goin' to school and then goin' home and doin' all the work that I forgot it. And when he come home a few minutes ago and saw I hadn't got it cut, he ordered me out of the house and told me never to darken his door again till I'd got my hair cut!"
Mrs. McInnes was dumbfounded. "Your father told you that!" she cried at length. "Why, I always thought he was one of the kindest men I ever knew!"
"He's kind in—in his office—and—and on the street," stammered Sube; "but the minute he gets home his nerves fly up and he loses control of himself—"
"And your father told you never to darken his door again?" she asked incredulously.
"Yes, ma'am," Sube replied with emotion as he stared hard at the toe of his shoe. "Not till I'd got my hair cut."
Mrs. McInness drew her husband aside and conversed with him in a low tone.
"Pretty fishy—" Sube heard him mumble.
"But when a person's mind is affected ... there's no telling—" he heard Mrs. McInness saying.