d--snip! Off went a curl.
Another and another followed; the lad watching the result of the
snipping in the mirror. As the last clip sounded Bee gave a gasp at the
result.

"What will your mother say?" she cried, wishing herself anywhere but in
the Medulla sitting room. "Oh! what will she say?"

"It's all right," declared Percival sturdily, though it must be
confessed that he was slightly dismayed himself. "At least it would be
if it were even. Do cut it straight for me, Beefly."

He thrust the shears into her hand as he spoke, and turned his back to
her. "Now hurry, and cut it even," he said.

"Percival, are you here?" Mrs. Medulla opened the door at this
unfortunate moment, and walked in. "I have brought you something nice
from town. Guess--Why!"

She stopped short at sight of the pair. Like a culprit Beatrice stood
with the shears in her hand, while Percival seemed stricken dumb. The
lady's gaze concentrated upon her son's clipped head. For a long instant
the three stood as though incapable of speech; then the mother spoke,
and Bee shivered at the severity of her tones:

"Beatrice, what are you doing with those shears? Surely you did not cut
Percival's hair?"

Chapter XX

Bee Is Disappointed in Percival

"If lives were always merry,
Our souls would seek relief,
And rest from weary laughter
In the quiet arms of grief."

--_Henry Van Dyke._

"Why, why," stammered Bee, so astonished by the lady's words that she
could scarcely speak. She glanced down at the incriminating shears which
she held in her hand, then at Percival, expecting that the lad would
instantly tell how the affair had occurred, and so absolve her from
blame. To her amazement the boy did not utter a word, but stood gazing
at his mother as though fascinated. It came to Beatrice with something
of a shock that he was frightened.

"Which one of you did it?" demanded Mrs. Medulla, turning first to the
boy and then to the girl. "Why, oh why, was it done? Don't you know,
Beatrice, that this will end all engagements for the winter? Percival
knew it. He would not have the hardihood to do such a thing by himself.
It must have been you. You should not have done it. No manager wants a
boy without curls."

"Oh," murmured Bee. She looked at Percival beseechingly, but the boy,
usually so ready with excuses still stood mute.

"Have I been mistaken in you after all, Beatrice," went on the lady,
surprised at the girl's co