Eight Days of Luke Read Free

scolded him soundly, both for growing so inconsiderately fast and for arriving in advance of his trunk. It did no good for David to point out that people of his age did grow, nor to suggest that it was the railway’s fault about the trunk. “When I want your opinion,” said Aunt Dot, “I shall ask for it. This is most vexing. And tomorrow is Sunday, so that it will be Monday before Astrid can take you into town for new clothes.”
    This brought Astrid and Cousin Ronald out against David too. “No one,” said Cousin Ronald, “no one objects less than me to spending money when it’s necessary, but this is sheer waste, David.”
    Since David was now goaded to the point where he wanted to say that Cousin Ronald always, invariably, objected to people spending money, it was perhaps fortunate that Astrid got in first.
    â€œTown always brings on my head!” she complained. “And shops make me feel faint. You might say you’re grateful, at least, David.”
    â€œI am. Truly,” David protested. “But I can’t help growing.”
    All this while, Uncle Bernard had been hovering on the edge of the action, waiting for an opening. Now, just as Mrs. Thirsk came to bring pudding, he pounced. “Growing,” he said. “And I suppose you can’t help your hair growing either? You must have it cut at once, boy.” The odd thing about Uncle Bernard was that when he attacked David he never seemed in the least frail or ill. “Hanging round your ears in that unmanly way!” he said vigorously. “I’m surprised they haven’t made you have it cut at school.”
    Mrs. Thirsk shot David a malicious, meaning look, and David was naturally forced to defend himself. “The other boys all have hair much longer than this,” he said. “No one minds these days, Uncle Bernard.”
    â€œWell I do mind,” said Uncle Bernard. “I’m ashamed to look at you. You’ll have it all off on Monday.”
    â€œNo,” said David. “I—”
    â€œWhat?” said Uncle Bernard. “Do you have the face to contradict me? Boys do not decide the length of their hair, let me tell you. Their guardians do. And boys do not contradict their guardians, David.”
    â€œI’m not really contradicting,” David said earnestly. Because Mrs. Thirsk was there, he was desperately set on winning, but he knew that he dared not seem rude or ungrateful. “It’s just that I want to grow my hair, Uncle Bernard. And it’ll cost less money if I don’t have it cut, won’t it?”
    â€œMoney,” said Uncle Bernard unfairly, “is no object with me when it’s a question of right and wrong. And it is wrong for you to be seen with hair that length.”
    â€œNot these days,” David explained politely. “It’s the fashion, you see, and it really isn’t wrong. I expect you’re a bit out of date, Uncle Bernard.” He smiled kindly and, he hoped, firmly at Uncle Bernard, and was a little put out to hear Astrid snorting with laughter across the table.
    â€œI never heard such a thing!” said Uncle Bernard. Then he went frail and added pathetically: “And I hope I shall never hear such a thing again.”
    David, to his amazement, saw that he was winning. He had Uncle Bernard on the run. It was so unheard of that, for a moment, David could not think of anything to say that would clinch his victory. And while he wondered, Mrs. Thirsk turned his success into total failure.
    â€œYes,” she said, “and did you ever see such a thing as this, either?” Triumphantly, she placed a small mat with crochet edging in front of Uncle Bernard. In the middle of the mat, very thoroughly stuck to it, was a wad of something pink and rather shiny, with teeth-marks in it.
    Uncle Bernard peered at it. “What is this?” he said.
    â€œDavid can tell you,” said Mrs. Thirsk,