hat she would
have the law on 'em if they ever harmed a hair on the head of a child of
hers; and he was a law-abiding citizen. He didn't deny that the boy
needed a haircut the worst way in the world, but at his time of life he
wasn't going to become an outlaw.

Keats had nearly broke down at this. But Shelley says: "All right; come
on over to the other place."

So they go over to Katterson Lee, the coloured barber, and Katterson
tells 'em the same story. He admits the boy needs a haircut till it
amounts to an outrage, but he's had his plain warning from Shelley's ma,
and he ain't going to get mixed up with no lawsuit in a town where he's
known to one and all as being respectable.

Shelley then threatened him with bodily harm if he didn't cut that hair
off quick, and Katterson was right afraid of the returned soldier, that
had fixed so many Germans right, but he was more afraid of the law, so
he got down on his knees to Shelley and begged for his life.

Little Keats was now blubbering, thinking he wasn't going to be shut of
his disgrace after all, but Shelley says: "All right, kid; I'll stand by
you. I'll do it myself. Get into that chair!"

Of course Katterson couldn't prevent that, so Keats got sunny again and
climbed into the chair, and Shelley grabbed a pair of shears and made a
sure-nuff boy of him. He got the curls off all right, but when it come to
trimming up he found he couldn't do a smooth job, and Katterson wasn't
there to give him any hints, having run from his shop at the beginning of
the crime so he would have a good alibi when hauled into court. So
Shelley finally took up a pair of clippers, and having learned to clip
mules he soon had little Keats' whole scalp laid bare. It must of been a
glorious sight. They both gloated over it a long time.

Then Keats says: "Now you come with me and we'll show it to mamma!" But
Shelley says: "Not me! I have to draw the line somewhere. I shall be far
away from here to-night. I am not afraid of enemy soldiers, for I've been
up against them too often. But there are worse things than death, so
you'll have to face mamma alone. You can tell her I did it, but I will
not be there to hear you. So good-bye and God help you!" And Shelley
retired to a position less exposed.

That was an awful day for the Plunkett home, because little Keats, being
left to his own resources, tried to use his brain. First he gathered up
the long shining curls and wrapped 'em in a newspaper. Th