OUR STORYETTE.

Pukekohe & Waiuku Times, Volume 5, Issue 136, 24 January 1916, Page 4

OUR STORYETTE.

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♦ GOLDEN HAIR.

Walking down a West-end thoroughfare where, behind plate glass windows, the electric light scintillated upon dazzling stores from the world's treasure houses. John Kingston • nine siiddenlv to a stop. The plncc was a fashionable hairdresser's establishment, and a group of hair-cloaked figures in the window were hired living entities whose business it was to furnish a realistic advertisement of the transcendent qualities of a certain famous hair restorer!

A curious feeling of mingled repulsion and indignation stole over Kingston as he gazed upon the strange exhibition ; but, fascinated by a certain dramatic pathos in the soene, he lingered. His eyes rested on a girl with a wealth of red-gold tresses. '•So like! So liko!'' he murmured tn himself. "I could almost believe it to be the same!"

Suddenly, the tableau within the window became briskly animated. Anns and heads were raised and figures drawn erect, as, with a quick movement. the blind came down, and Kingston found himself alone on the pavement. The establishment was closed for the ni^ht. He loitered about until the girls, their luxuriant hair stowed neatly away tinder the:'- hats, began coming out. As they passed him he scrutinised them one bv one. until at length the object of his strangely awakened interest approached, and there mingled with the compassion in his eyes a look of quick surprise. The young girl, attired 'in a cheap, shoddy coat and skirt, bore upon every inch of her slight figure that undefinable, yet unmistakable something which stamps the lady! „

He turned and followed her, and. for the first time, the difficulty of the situation pre .touted itself to him. He had determined to learn the cause of the girl's grief, and he felt that his r.cctiik'.ng conscience would give him no peace if he allowed bis timidity to conquer the impulse. Vet, how was he, a stranger, to presume to address her? The opportunity came before many minutes. As he almost overtook the girl, lie saw that a stranger, reaching her side, was addressing her in low tones She looked up with a quick, startled glance and hastened on without replying, and Kingston became suddenly aware that she was being subjected to the disagreeable attentions of a cad. He stepped forward, unhesitatingly, between the girl and her persecutor, wheeling round sharply upon the man. "He so good as to take yourself off," lie said, authoritatively. "Your presence is not required here!" Presuming that the girl had been joined by an acquaintance, the fellow moved sheepishly away, and Kingston continued to walk by the girl'* side. "Please accept my apologies," he said; "but I could see that the fellow wns making himself a nuisance to vou."

She glauced up timidly, expressing her thanks in a low, relined voice that was a little unsteady.

Kingston walked on in silence for a few minutes. Then he said, abruptly: "You were crying just now, in the window, mv child."

She looked up with a deprecatory appeal. "I have a daughter at home," he went on, "Her hair is, was, just like yours—beautiful, almost as luxuriant, and the saine color. She has bpen ill with the fever a terrible illn-'ss—and she has lost it all. I could plniost have believed my little girl wa s there," he continued, "as T looked at you just now. And T did not like to see you crying. It would break my heart to see her cry, she has been so nearlv lost to me."

The girl suddenly burst into tears. "I know ! I know!" she sobbed. "My own mother, my darling mother is—dying!'' Kingston drew her hand through his nr;n. patting it gently. "And you earu your livi.ig with your hfiir, your beautiflll hair." lie o-k"d presently. Yes." sho replied, in a low, sb6med voice. "But it is horrible—horrible! My mother must never know. I saw the pdvertisement, and it came Just in time to save us from starvation."

"Poor child!'' he murmured. Tho next minute he turned to her impressively. "In a few weeks' time," he said, "my daughter is to be taken aw ay for a change. She. will grieve terribly for her lovely liair. And yours—yours is the counterpart of it. She would not know the difference. If I could give her yours."

She gazed at him with dilated, startled eyes. '

"Think it over," lie said, persuasively. "I would pay you well for it. You should name your own price."

The vivid color rushed to her dieeks a- -lie stammered. "Oh, you are kind and cruel! You tempt me. But my hair! Mv beautiful hair!"

lie looked down at her in shaniefaud compassion. "I wonder if I am n '■rate," he said. "Think about it," hj" went on. hastily. "Come io tne at th end ot a week. By that time you wPI have arrived at a calm decision."

lie look out a card, pressing it into her trembling fingers as she paused abruptly where her road branched oil.

"You have not told me your name." 1:- v.,id.

"Tlmnk vim,'' she murmured, taking i!i ■ <.l r<l ''.My name i> o'rare (iraco J> IHV( lit.' 110 -tarled. "Hnr;u«' Jhuneiit'h tlaiediU'i' r" In: avked almost itKli-dn--I'iuslv. s !ii Ih.-.m -I I;. i head. ami was Kittir-l<-n «a Iked <>n with knitted !iuw . '■ !!aidvi n|ii and !" lie i• i i,n., .it el in hinisrll, 'IW girl!" i' • *'! ,1 i > Heck t•>m IK I Ihe girl at Jv:'£-. ,li • iloiil. slif l ame in. lie Ma r 11. d a: • ; ;'i| nl the drawn pallnl ( i !K! ri t k-, and I lir dai k -hailnw s !*• 11ii■ i !:• i t'.e- beneath tlir nia--i\ r v..r ' < ! -,, Mi n liatr. i 1 ),' n." !i • .-aid, gi a v elv. \iiii )I '\. :11 id II;I villi r iminl '" ( "Y< -lie replied, in'i'\ 1111>I\. i i:.i \»■ i-Dinc tn till *iiii tlial I alii miii\ ; ilia: I,:■l) Hi it hall with my liair. I \ia- i;')i!!.4 I". 'mi my mother—my mother i- di ad." # ' Ah!" In' said. <|iiioi |y. "And yon wi'ir in part with it. fur >our mother's *ake't '

find I cannot. It is all I have. I nr.an ' —she stammered—"ifam fnl. Without iik hair 1 should bo plain.' 1 He looked, with a half-quizzical smile, into her pretty deep-set eves. ''And you are all alone?" he said. "Yes, all alone!" she replied, and he sfi'.r a look of fear flit across her face. He got up abruptly and crossed tho room, pausing at h«r side. "Listen," he said, in a voice that made her look up quickly, ' I have a confession to make. I have no daughter she died a year ago. I am a lonely man. I lied to you for my own selfish desire, and partly for your good. 1 worship beautiful, feminine things. I I longed to run my fingers throug'i those burnished gold tresses, to possess them for my own. At first," he went on. looking down into her surprised eyes, "1 thought it was only your beautiful hair that 1 coveted. Hut now I know I love you. Don't move. All through this week I have l>een hoping—hoping that you would come with your lovely hair, your crown of glory, unshorn. I wanted your hair, but now I want you."

She got up with dilated eyes, tho color flaming to her cheeks and ebbing way, leaving her deathly white.

"I have startled you," he said in anxious contrition. "Forgive me!" "Mr. Kingston!" she faltered, as ho took her hand. "What can I say? I I have only sceu you once!" "Just say you don't hate me," ho said. "Say you will try o like me. The rest I will teach you." She blushed a rosy red. "I like you already," she said, "and I think 1 might soon learn the rest." (The End.)