Sube Cane Part 6

"Huh? My lip?" he temporized as he tried to think of a plausible explanation. "Why,--why, I--I b.u.mped 'at against the door," he got out finally.

"Prob'ly that's what makes you so pale," suggested Cathead. "Lay down a minute and you'll be all right."

Sube was glad to follow this advice.

"You ain't told me what you're all dressed up for," Cathead reminded him presently.

"I can't find my other clo's, I tole you," growled Sube. "I'll bet mama's gone and given 'em to the Salvation Army or something."

"How long since you couldn't find 'em?"

"Took 'em off jus' soon as I got home, and I ain't seen 'em since."

"That's funny," muttered Cathead as he began a cursory search for the missing garments. A moment later he called from the bathroom, "Hey, Sube, I've found out what smells so bad!"

"What?" asked Sube with a note of alarm.

"It's the water! Something must of got into the cistern. I'll bet it's another cat."

Sube gave one long futile breath that put into words would have said, "What next!" It was a bad matter. But it was not so pressing as a certain other bad matter. Something had to be done about his incompleted haircut--and done quickly. No explanation could be made that was not likely to lead to very unpleasant disclosures. His only salvation was a _real haircut_. And that of necessity involved the expenditure of a sum of money he did not possess.

Sube knew Cathead had money--Cathead always had money--and he at once began a series of flattering offers to sell anything he possessed. But Cathead was thrifty. The commercial instinct was strong in him. He realized that the time to buy is when the other fellow wants to sell; but he did not become over anxious. He said he was not in the market.

Neither was he conducting a loan office. Of course, if it was made worth his while, why,--he might think of it.

This bickering nearly drove Sube mad. Time for the evening meal was drawing near. He could hear his father's voice downstairs. In his desperation he made up a job lot containing everything of his in which Cathead had ever betrayed an interest, and struck it off for thirty pieces of copper.

Cathead grasped the psychology of the moment. "I'll take you up," he said promptly. "Come on down stairs while I get the money out of my bank."

Sube went only too willingly. In the library he encountered his father.

"Where is your cap, Sube?" reminded Mr. Cane.

"Yes, I know it," Sube explained. "I didn't forget it; you see, I'm goin' right out again."

"But as long as you are in the house--"

"Yes, sir; I'll take it right off."

Sube made a feint at his cap with one hand as he s.n.a.t.c.hed some coins from Cathead with the other, and darted for the door.

"Seward!" called Mr. Cane sternly. "Come here!"

_Bang!_ The front door closed with sufficient violence to jar the entire house as Sube dashed up the street. Sube had heard his father's voice plainly in spite of the fact that he continued to a.s.sure himself that he had not.

He had proceeded only a short distance from home when Nancy Guilford and her mother loomed up before him. Sube rarely overlooked an opportunity to demonstrate to Mrs. Guilford his Chesterfieldian manners. But to-day he dodged past with nothing more than a bourgeois twitch at his cap; and railing under his breath at an unkind fate he sped on towards the barber shop.

But alas, he was too late. The door was locked, and the barber, in company with his wife, was just turning away as Sube came panting up.

"Mr. McInness! Mr. McInness!" he called feverishly as he caught sight of the retreating tonsorial.

Mr. McInness glanced back, then paused expectantly.

"I got here just in time!" Sube puffed. "I want to get my hair cut."

The barber scowled and looked at his watch. "Too late, son," he said.

"You'll have to wait till to-morrow. It's after six."

"But I _can't_ wait till to-morrow," Sube returned in his most persuasive tone. "I got to get it cut _now_!"

The barber shook his head. "Nuthin' doin', son," he said. "I run a union shop. If I didn't close up at six, the union'd be on my neck inside of thirty seconds." He made a move to start on. "You come back in the mornin' and I'll fix you up fine!"

Sube clutched desperately at the barber's sleeve. "I can't wait!" he pleaded. "I _got_ to get it done right now!"

"I can't take no chances!" declared the barber positively. "I've had the union after me twic't already. If you want to get it cut to-night, why, you'll have to go somewheres else."

"Where can I go?" asked Sube quickly.

"Well,--I don't know as I could tell you no place," responded the barber dubiously. "Every shop in town belongs to the union."

The agonized expression on Sube's face was too much for the barber's wife. "What seems to be the trouble?" she asked kindly. "Tell me about it."

Here was a chance for aid from an unexpected quarter; but it was fraught with danger. Mrs. McInness's sister was a teacher in the school Sube attended. He must have a care what he told her.

"It's on account of my father," he finally managed to say, as he a.s.sumed a martyred expression.

"Your father?" she asked clearly puzzled.

"Yes, ma'am. He's pretty bad to-night!"

"Why, he isn't sick, is he? I saw him on the street this afternoon."

"Not sick, exactly," Sube improvised cautiously. "The doctor says it's his mind--"

"His mind!" gasped Mrs. McInness. "Is his mind affected?"

"What?--Well--it's more his--his nerves! You see, he can't bear to look at anybody who needs a haircut. It makes him nervous, you see. And he told me to get my hair cut this afternoon, but I was so busy goin' to school and then goin' home and doin' all the work that I forgot it. And when he come home a few minutes ago and saw I hadn't got it cut, he ordered me out of the house and told me never to darken his door again till I'd got my hair cut!"

Mrs. McInnes was dumbfounded. "Your father told you that!" she cried at length. "Why, I always thought he was one of the kindest men I ever knew!"

"He's kind in--in his office--and--and on the street," stammered Sube; "but the minute he gets home his nerves fly up and he loses control of himself--"

"And your father told you never to darken his door again?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes, ma'am," Sube replied with emotion as he stared hard at the toe of his shoe. "Not till I'd got my hair cut."

Mrs. McInness drew her husband aside and conversed with him in a low tone.

"Pretty fishy--" Sube heard him mumble.