118 BEYOND THE BLUE MOUNTAINS.

As Buttercup spoke he touched the lady’s green dress with one
hand, and with the other patted that special curl which his mother
used to kiss.

“No, no, not that one,” replied Convolvulus, in a queer husky
kind of voice—“it is not at all my way to interfere with mothers,
and the curl she kissed would not be so sweet to me as the curl
I kissed myself. Here, give me this one, this one that twines
round your shell-like ear.”

She took the pair of golden scissors as she spoke and snipped
the curl from Buttereup’s yellow head.

The other four children willingly parted each with a lock of
his or her shining hair, but when Convolvulus came up to Prim-
rose the little girl put both her hands up to protect her head.

“The hair is in payment,” she said, “is it not?”

“Yes, my dear,” replied Convolvulus, “in payment for your
good, excellent supper.”

“ But I didn’t have any supper,’ said Primrose, “so I have
nothing to pay for. I would rather not have my hair cut, please.”
She seized Buttercup’s hand almost roughly as she spoke, and ran
out of the cottage.

The other children followed, and immediately began to scold
Primrose for her rudeness to the lovely lady.

“Say what you like to me,” replied Primrose, “only come on
—please come on. Let us get away from that cottage, and that
‘blind woman and blind child, and that poor blind girl who
brought you the fresh jug of milk at supper-time. It’s a dan-
gerous cottage, and I’m very glad to be out of it. Do let us
walk quickly. What’s the matter with you, Buttercup? Why do
you slp back each moment? One would think there was ice on
the ground.”

“[T don’t know whats the matter,’ said Buttercup, “I can’t
help shpping back; it seems as if there were something tangling
my legs, and pulling me back all the time.”

“Oh, nonsense!” said Primrose ; “there is nothing whatever to
be seen. Here, take my hand, like a good boy, and let us run.”