of battle Bee turned toward
Percival triumphantly.

"There! I don't think he'll trouble you soon again, Percival," she said.

"You are a chum worth having, Beefly," cried the lad enthusiastically.
"It was splendid. My! My! didn't you go for him!" He doubled up in a
paroxysm of laughter at the remembrance. "But see here!" he ejaculated
suddenly, becoming grave. "This baby business is dead right now. I have
been guyed about it as long as I am going to be, and this ends it. I am
a sure enough boy, and I am going to show it."

"What are you going to do?" demanded Bee, surprised by his earnestness.

"I am going to attend to this hair. The thing's got to be done today.
Come down to the house and help me; won't you?"

"Wouldn't it be better for your mother to help you, Percival?"
questioned the girl dubiously.

"Come on, and we'll see," he replied. Welcoming the diversion Beatrice
followed him.

"Now just go in and wait for me," he said, opening the door of the
sitting room. "I won't be gone a minute."

Wondering where Mrs. Medulla was Bee sat down. She knew the iron of
ridicule had sunk deep into Percival's soul, and she feared for the
result. If his mother would but enter soon, the girl reflected, she need
not feel any responsibility in the matter. As the moments glided by,
however, and no Mrs. Medulla appeared, she was assailed by a sense of
uneasiness.

"What do you think of these?" exclaimed Percival, bounding into the room
presently. "Look, Beefly! Aren't they great?"

Somewhere the boy had unearthed a pair of long trousers, a coat, and a
real shirt with collar and tie. He whirled about for her inspection
delightedly.

"Not much Fauntleroy about these, eh?" he said complacently. "What do
you think of them?"

Bee was so relieved that she laughed outright.

"You don't look like the same boy, Percival. Do you think you could play
your violin in those clothes?"

"Why of course I can," he declared. "I'll show you; but first--"

He ran to his mother's machine, and opening a drawer took out a pair of
large shears. Bee ran toward him quickly.

"You must not do that, Percival," she cried. "Oh, where is your mother?"

"My mother has gone into town," answered Percival with a swagger. "I'll
settle with her. Now, Beefly, you cut off that hair."

"I will not, Percival," answered Bee emphatically. "Do wait until your
mother comes back. Do, Percival; like a dear fellow."

But Master Percival raised the shears, an