"Hulloa!" he shouted.
Agnes presented her card.
Beautiful for Ever!
MISS AGNES.
Corns Extracted, Bunions Attended to.
Beauty at his feet, and the New Year near. Corns extracted. Was there ever such luck? So he took the little maiden up in his arms and promised, then and there, that she should be the next Mrs. Bolster. "Not long to wait," he added with a chuckle, the present Mrs. B. not having turned out to his liking.
Mr. Bolster had neglected his personal appearance very much lately, and when he sat Agnes on his knee in the gloaming, she began his education. "Beautiful for Ever!" was her trade mark. If Bolster only wore curls, what a head! Hyacinthine locks, what an Apollo! Bolster looked at her dear little love locks, and then put his great hand over his own hair, which was long and matted, and began to think that, after all, short, crisp curls would be an improvement. He did not surrender at once, but Agnes said she couldn't, she really couldn't, be the next Mrs. Bolster and trim his pet corns unless he had hyacinthine locks, like an up-to-date hero in a novel. She found a bit of chalk and drew on a blackboard the head of a Hercules with Apollo's locks. Mr. Bolster was touched in a weak spot, and to keep him soft, Agnes vowed that she would never be Mrs. Bolster until he was such a man—such a curled darling.
Mr. Bolster's hair was long and matted, and Agnes got a rake, and combed and combed until it all came off, and there was none to curl. New Year came, and Mrs. Bolster in possession went the way of all the giant's wives, and Agnes sat upon Bolster's knee and wept because of her vow which she must keep—no curls, no Agnes. She stroked his bald pate, saying the new hair was sprouting already, and it would curl so sweet when short that his own mother wouldn't know him. Then Agnes put him on health diet to make him young again, and when his hair really began to grow she became afraid, for she caught him heating the curling-tongs in secret, as though he meant business at an early date.
Agnes sat upon his knee and wept. He was so stout. She could not clasp his manly waist. He must reduce—he must, he must. The tears were in her beautiful eyes. Once more she touched the spot, and Mr. Bolster, the Colossus, was soft. He'd do anything, and then he took an oath at which the stars trembled.
There was a little basin in the rock which the giant used for shaving-water now he had become a dandy. Water trickled down the crevice into the sea when the cork plug was removed. Agnes prescribed a little blood-letting—for she was skilled in phlebotomy—"just a basinful, you know," said she, with great pleading eyes of heavenly blue. Mr. Bolster threw his mighty arm carelessly across the basin.
"Only a basinful this time," said Agnes, pulling out the plug.