fiercely.
“Mum, what is it?” Meggie finally managed to say.
“Look, you dirty little grub!” her mother answered, thrusting her hand down in front of Meggie’s eyes. “You have these things everywhere in your hair, from that Eyetie girl you’re so thick with! Now what am I going to do with you?”
Meggie gaped at the tiny thing roaming blindly round Fee’s bare skin in search of more hirsute territory, then she began to weep.
Without needing to be told, Frank got the copper going while Paddy paced up and down the kitchen roaring, his rage increasing every time he looked at Meggie. Finally he went to the row of hooks on the wall inside the back door, jammed his hat on his head and took the long horsewhip from its nail.
“I’m going into Wahine, Fee, and I’m going to tell that blasted Dago what he can do with his slimy fish and chips! Then I’m going to see Sister Agatha and tell her what I think of her, allowing lousy children in her school!”
“Paddy, be careful!” Fee pleaded. “What if it isn’t the Eyetie girl? Even if she has lice, it’s possible she might have got them from someone else along with Meggie.”
“Rot!” said Paddy scornfully. He pounded down the back steps, and a few minutes later they heard his roan’s hoofs beating down the road. Fee sighed, looking at Frank hopelessly.
“Well, I suppose we’ll be lucky if he doesn’t land in jail. Frank, you’d better bring the boys inside. No school today.”
One by one Fee went through her sons’ hair minutely, then checked Frank’s head and made him do the same for her. There was no evidence that anyone else had acquired poor Meggie’s malady, but Fee did not intend to take chances. When the water in the huge laundry copper was boiling, Frank got the dish tub down from its hanging and filled it half with hot water and half with cold. Then he went out to the shed and fetched in an unopened five-gallon can of kerosene, took a bar of lye soap from the laundry and started work on Bob. Each head was briefly damped in the tub, several cups of raw kerosene poured over it, and the whole draggled, greasy mess lathered with soap. The kerosene and lye burned; the boys howled and rubbed their eyes raw, scratching at their reddened, tingling scalps and threatening ghastly vengeance on all Dagos.
Fee went to her sewing basket and took out her big shears. She came back to Meggie, who had not dared to move from the stool though an hour and more had elapsed, and stood with the shears in her hand, staring at the beautiful fall of hair. Then she began to cut it—snip! snip!—untill all the long curls were huddled in glistening heaps on the floor and Meggie’s white skin was beginning to show in irregular patches all over her head. Doubt in her eyes, she turned then to Frank.
“Ought I to shave it?” she asked, tight-lipped.
Frank put out his hand, revolted. “Oh, Mum, no! Surely not! If she gets a good douse of kerosene it ought to be enough. Please don’t shave it!”
So Meggie was marched to the worktable and held over the tub while they poured cup after cup of kerosene over her head and scrubbed the corrosive soap through what was left of her hair. When they were finally satisfied, she was almost blind from screwing up her eyes against the bite of the caustic, and little rows of blisters had risen all over her face and scalp. Frank swept the fallen curls into a sheet of paper and thrust it into the copper fire, then took the broom and stood it in a panful of kerosene. He and Fee both washed their hair, gasping as the lye seared their skins, then Frank got out a bucket and scrubbed the kitchen floor with sheep-dip.
When the kitchen was as sterile as a hospital they went through to the bedrooms, stripped every sheet and blanket from every bed, and spent the rest of the day boiling, wringing and pegging out the family linen. The mattresses and pillows were draped over the back fence and sprayed with kerosene, the parlor rugs were beaten
“Mum, what is it?” Meggie finally managed to say.
“Look, you dirty little grub!” her mother answered, thrusting her hand down in front of Meggie’s eyes. “You have these things everywhere in your hair, from that Eyetie girl you’re so thick with! Now what am I going to do with you?”
Meggie gaped at the tiny thing roaming blindly round Fee’s bare skin in search of more hirsute territory, then she began to weep.
Without needing to be told, Frank got the copper going while Paddy paced up and down the kitchen roaring, his rage increasing every time he looked at Meggie. Finally he went to the row of hooks on the wall inside the back door, jammed his hat on his head and took the long horsewhip from its nail.
“I’m going into Wahine, Fee, and I’m going to tell that blasted Dago what he can do with his slimy fish and chips! Then I’m going to see Sister Agatha and tell her what I think of her, allowing lousy children in her school!”
“Paddy, be careful!” Fee pleaded. “What if it isn’t the Eyetie girl? Even if she has lice, it’s possible she might have got them from someone else along with Meggie.”
“Rot!” said Paddy scornfully. He pounded down the back steps, and a few minutes later they heard his roan’s hoofs beating down the road. Fee sighed, looking at Frank hopelessly.
“Well, I suppose we’ll be lucky if he doesn’t land in jail. Frank, you’d better bring the boys inside. No school today.”
One by one Fee went through her sons’ hair minutely, then checked Frank’s head and made him do the same for her. There was no evidence that anyone else had acquired poor Meggie’s malady, but Fee did not intend to take chances. When the water in the huge laundry copper was boiling, Frank got the dish tub down from its hanging and filled it half with hot water and half with cold. Then he went out to the shed and fetched in an unopened five-gallon can of kerosene, took a bar of lye soap from the laundry and started work on Bob. Each head was briefly damped in the tub, several cups of raw kerosene poured over it, and the whole draggled, greasy mess lathered with soap. The kerosene and lye burned; the boys howled and rubbed their eyes raw, scratching at their reddened, tingling scalps and threatening ghastly vengeance on all Dagos.
Fee went to her sewing basket and took out her big shears. She came back to Meggie, who had not dared to move from the stool though an hour and more had elapsed, and stood with the shears in her hand, staring at the beautiful fall of hair. Then she began to cut it—snip! snip!—untill all the long curls were huddled in glistening heaps on the floor and Meggie’s white skin was beginning to show in irregular patches all over her head. Doubt in her eyes, she turned then to Frank.
“Ought I to shave it?” she asked, tight-lipped.
Frank put out his hand, revolted. “Oh, Mum, no! Surely not! If she gets a good douse of kerosene it ought to be enough. Please don’t shave it!”
So Meggie was marched to the worktable and held over the tub while they poured cup after cup of kerosene over her head and scrubbed the corrosive soap through what was left of her hair. When they were finally satisfied, she was almost blind from screwing up her eyes against the bite of the caustic, and little rows of blisters had risen all over her face and scalp. Frank swept the fallen curls into a sheet of paper and thrust it into the copper fire, then took the broom and stood it in a panful of kerosene. He and Fee both washed their hair, gasping as the lye seared their skins, then Frank got out a bucket and scrubbed the kitchen floor with sheep-dip.
When the kitchen was as sterile as a hospital they went through to the bedrooms, stripped every sheet and blanket from every bed, and spent the rest of the day boiling, wringing and pegging out the family linen. The mattresses and pillows were draped over the back fence and sprayed with kerosene, the parlor rugs were beaten
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