"I'm not," responded Neale, briefly, but he paid for his purchase and hurried away without further remark. Agnes chanced to notice that the other bottles the clerk was returning to the shelves were all samples of dyes and "hair-restorers."
"Maybe he's buying something for Mr. Murphy. Mr. Murphy is awfully bald on top," thought Agnes, and that's all she did think about it until the next day.
The girls had invited Neale to go to their church, with them and he had promised to be there. But when they filed in just before the sermon they saw nothing of the white-haired boy standing about the porch with the other boys.
"There's somebody in our pew," whispered Tess to Ruth.
"Aunt Sarah?"
"No. Aunt Sarah is in her own seat across the aisle," said Agnes. "Why! it's a boy."
"It's Neale O'Neil," gasped Ruth. "But what has he done to his hair?"
A glossy brown head showed just above the tall back of the old-fashioned pew. The sun shining through the long windows on the side of the church shone upon Neale's thick thatch of hair with iridescent glory. Whenever he moved his head, the hue of the hair seemed to change—like a piece of changeable silk!
"That can't be him," said Agnes, with awe. "Where's all his lovely flaxen hair?"
"The foolish boy! He's dyed it," said Ruth, and then they reached the pew and could say no more.