But Mr Girdler, who was not ordinarily given to mirth, abruptly left the room with a smile on his face before I could proceed.
When he re-entered he was stern and severe.
“Make yourself decent at once, sir,” said he. “No, I don’t want any of your explanations. No doubt they are highly satisfactory. I begin to understand now why you were sent away from school. It strikes me an idiot asylum is the proper place for you.”
I dismally tore my curl-papers out of my hair and went on with my work till the blessed hour of release came.
Then I hied straight to the nearest barber.
“I want my hair as short as you can cut it,” said I.
“Very good, sir; we can give you the county crop, if you like.”
“Is that the shortest you do?” inquired I, not knowing what the “county crop” was.
“Well, sir, we ain’t asked to take more off as a rule, unless it is a clean shave you want.”
“No, the county crop will do,” said I.