rushed the dominie was the affair of Francie Crabb. Francie
was now a pupil, like Gavin Dishart and Tommy, of Mr. Cathro's, who
detested the boy's golden curls, perhaps because he was bald himself.
They were also an incentive to evil-doing on the part of other boys, who
must give them a tug in passing, and on a day the dominie said, in a
fury, "Give your mother my compliments, Francie, and tell her I'm so
tired of seeing your curls that I mean to cut them off to-morrow
morning."

"Say he shall not," whispered Tommy.

"You shanna!" blurted out Francie.

"But I will," said Cathro; "I would do it now if I had the shears."

It was only an empty threat, but an hour afterwards the dominie caught
Tommy wagering in witchy marbles and other coin that he would not do it,
and then instead of taking the tawse to him he said, "Keep him to his
bargains, laddies, for whatever may have been my intention at the time,
I mean to be as good as my word now."

He looked triumphantly at Tommy, who, however, instead of seeming
crestfallen, continued to bet, and now the other boys were eager to
close with him, for great was their faith in Cathro. These transactions
were carried out on the sly, but the dominie knew what was going on, and
despite his faith in himself he had his twitches of uneasiness.

"However, the boy can only be trusting to fear of Mrs. Crabb restraining
me," he decided, and he marched into the school-room next morning,
ostentatiously displaying his wife's largest scissors. His pupils
crowded in after him, and though he noticed that all were strangely
quiet and many wearing scared faces, he put it down to the coming scene.
He could not resist giving one triumphant glance at Tommy, who, however,
instead of returning it, looked modestly down. Then--"Is Francie Crabb
here?" asked Mr. Cathro, firmly.

"He's hodding ahint the press," cried a dozen voices.

"Come forward, Francie," said the dominie, clicking the shears to
encourage him.

There was a long pause, and then Francie emerged in fear from behind the
press. Yes, it was Francie, but his curls were gone!

The shears fell to the floor. "Who did this?" roared the terrible
Cathro.

"It was Tommy Sandys," blurted out Francis, in tears.

The school-master was unable to speak, and, alarmed at the stillness,
Francie whined, "He said it would be done at ony rate, and he promised
me half his winnings."

It is still remembered by bearded men and married women who were a