THE LITTLE BARBER

Press, Volume LXXVI, Issue 23131, 21 September 1940, Page 6

THE LITTLE BARBER

The two barbers of Dumley, Lionel and Leonard, stood in the street outside their shops while their assistants swept the pavements, washed the tiles, and rubbed the basins until they dazzled like snow.

“Good morning, Lionel.” "Good morning, Leonard.” Lionel had a red face. Leonard had a lock of hair that would fall in his eyes while he bent over his customers. The window of Lionel’s shop had two plates of glass, edged with chromium. Behind the windows there were yellow cubicles each fitted with a goldlegged chair and a glass-topped table. The window of Leonard’s shop was smaller. It was painted |reen, so that people could not stare inside at the men being shaved in the six leather chairs. There were no cubicles in Leonard’s shop. "Business still good, Leonard? "Wonderful! And yours?” “Better than ever,” cried Lionel. Then a girl rang Lionel’s bell and a boy rang Leonard’s. The two barbers smiled and left the street. They were very happy, because each had only the other for a rival, and they were able to earn plenty of money. They were both good barbers, with red, white, and blue striped poles in front of their shops. Had anyone asked them to remove these poles or paint them black they would have thrown down their scissors in horror, A barber wasn’t a barber without a striped pole, was the motto of Lionel * and Leonard. If people had a lot of money they went to Lionel, and if they had just enough money they went to Leonard. But the very next day a stranger arrived in the main street of Dumlcy to the empty section next door to the butcher. He had nothing more with him than a tent and a wooden box. All day long the butcher, the baker, the antique dealer, and the bird man kept ringing each other up on the telephone—and especially Lionel and Leonard, who were more excited than anyone else; and, why not, since the stranger was also a barber? For the first time in 20 years the two barbers had a rival. “I can’t believe it, Leonard. Who heard of using a tent for a shop? Still, we have no need to worry. No one likes to be seen from the street when he is being shaved. You wait. Tomorrow he will have left Dumley, for after all a man must earn enough money to buy his bread. No customers means no money, and no money means hunger,” and Lionel walked grandly back to his snowy basins with his head held high, as if he were balancing a crown. A rival! A barber without a striped pole! Leonard almost snipped off his lock of hair as he thought about it. He would have been less horrified if his shampoo had boiled up from its urn in the shape of a goblin. Why, the mayor would have to send the fellow away, certainly! He was a little man with a pale face and black hair, a white coat, and black trousers, white cotton socks, and black, shiny shoes cracked on the toes, thin white fingers, and a ring made out of a lump of coal on the left little finger. A ring! As Leonard walked past the tent he stared at the ring as if he thought that would make it vanish. But. of. course, it did not, Indeed, the little barber was not unlike a small black and white fantail as he stood on his toes in the doorway of his tent. And the ring? Well,

(By Helen Shaw)

the ring’just gleamed on his hand like an ordinary beetle, the sort that shines in the cracks of benches by candle light. As Lionel passed the tent he saw an unframed mirror hanging to the wall by a piece of string and the red skin on the top of his nose twitched as he muttered, “How terrible. No one can possibly see how well his hair has been cut and his cheeks shaved in such a, mirror.” In the tent there were the little barber’s wooden box, covered with a red cloth, and a rather chipped stool with white legs. For a basin there was only a tin bowl and instead of the frothy green shampoo that Lionel used there were two big cakes of yellow soap. What a simple arrangement! A comb on the box; a bucket of water being heated over a brazier; newspaper spread out to catch the snips of hair; and the little barber smiling at all the people in the street. But, alas, they kept on hurrying away from his tent, laughing. Tjiey thought it was a joke. They preferred white basins to tin bowls. • . _ , At the end of the day Lionel and Leonard had enough snips of hair to stuff a mattress, but there wasn’t even one white hair from an old man’s beard on the little barber’s newspaper. For a week it was the same. The •stranger had no customer but a foolish black kitten, which climbed' up the tent pole and wa§ too frightened to come down. “That kitten will bring you luck, cried the bird man one day. The bird man felt sorry for him. He wished he could go in for a shave, but then what would his wife have 'said to him if he had had his beautiful grey beard cut off out of pity? “Thank you, thank you very much,’’ whispered the little barber, and he smiled as if 12 customers were ringing his bell. It was too bad that he stayed, everyone else said. Lionel said it wouldn’t have mattered so much if he’d been a real barber. Why, he hadn’t even a striped pole outside his door. It was terrible. It was also terrible that Mitta Smith had only one penny in her pocket on Tuesday morning. Mitta had been asked to a childreii’s party, where there were to be balloons and hundreds and thousands, and as she had never been to such a wonderful party she wanted to go very much: but her hair had not been cut for so long that it hung down her neck unevenly, like a poor pedlar's. Each time that she saw herself in the shop windows she sighed and felt the penny in her pocket and wished some magic witch would turn it into a shilling. Mitta stared through the plate glass windows of Lionel’s shop, where she could see the boy assistant polishing a rbw of copper jugs. His hair was very short, and it shone almost as brightly as his jugs. Then she stared through Leonard's doorway, and she heard the bell ringing and the till tinkling until it was more than she could bear. She sat on the gutter outside the little barber's tent and suddenly out popped the black kitten and rubbed its head against Mitta’s red skirt. She laughed at the kitten for a while, and stroked its ear, but she quickly remembered the party and she bent her head and covered her untidy hair with her hands.

Then, as if he had guessed her secret, the little barber darted across the pavement and waved his thin fingers

RAIN

The rain is falling quickly now, Oh, can’t you hear it plain? It’s dancing on the tiny flowers And on tile window pane.

Down among the orchard trees Where blossoms flower so gay, We hear the patter of the rain It cannot stay away. —MONICA GRAY, Hornby,

What can be in the water without getting wet? Your shadow. Spell a hole in a fence in three letters. G.A.P.

in front of Mitta’s eyes. "What is it?” he asked, "why are you so unhappy?”

“My hair is too long, and I have only one penny. It is terrible. I can’t go to the party.” “But that is ridiculous. I am a barber. Come with me, my dear.” When IVlitta looked at the little barber he seemed like the black and white witch she had been dreaming of. “You see," he went on, “if I cut •your hair a twelfth as well as Lionel it will be worth exactly one - penny,” and she sat down on the chipped stool and watched her hair being cut in the mirror hung by string, and when it was finished she hardly recognised herself, so neat was her short black hair. “Good-bye, good-bye,” called the barber, “you are my first customer. It must have, been the kitten which brought us each luck,” and he swept up Mitta’s hair and went out to buy himself a penny bun. That night Lionel and Leonard again had enough hair to stuff a mattress, but the little barber had enough to line a fantail’s nest. Now Mitta lived among people who had to buy cabbages and bread with their money instead of hair cuts and shaves, and when she walked between the rows of coftages the women and children called from behind their lace curtains. “Look 'at Mitta! Where did she have her hair cut? How grand she is!” And as she heard the whispers, Mitta answered, “The kjnd little barber next door to the butcher cut it. His scissors are sharp and his combs are clean. He will cut your hair for whatever happens to be in your pocket,” From that Tuesday the little barber had plenty of customers. He took none from Lionel and none from Leonard. He cut and washed the hair of the people living in Mitta’s street and they paid sixpence or perhaps threepence, and each night ‘he, too, swept up enough hair to stuff a matYet Lionel and Leonard were not happy. They grumbled all the time about the barber who worked so near

IPOYOU

Why did the hen run? ' Because it saw the fox trot Wfiat pets are often eaten? Crumpets. What man is always making face«| A clockmaker. ,

Why is a farmer going to market, like a prisoner going to gaol?,.' ■ Because they'both go to sell (cell). —MARY EDGAR (aged 11), Mount Somers.

them and who had no red ( white,: and blue striped pole outside his door. You see, they could no more imagine a barber without a pole than a. king without a crown. One morning Mitta Smith was buying her mother’s meat and she heard Leonard say ;toj the butcher, “It’s a shame about this | tent barber. If he's going to be a , real tradesman why doesn’t he observe the rules? A painted pole is as important as a clean basin. I am going tq ask the mayor to send him away.”])

Now Mitta thought hard -fair a long while, and she couldn't understand at all why a striped pole should be so important, but then she was only a child. She was also very, fond pi the tent barber, who had sent her to the wonderful party, and so she ran home and she took her white pillow case and a red dress that was, too small for her, and a blue scarf" that had been nibbled by some mice, and these she tore into long strips. *

It was exactly a month since Lionel had said to Leonard, “Business; still good?” and Leonard had replied, “Wonderful!” Every morning for a month they had talked about the little barber. This morning the sky was very blue and the tent very White against it. Suddenly Lionel, as hbsaid “Good morning, Leonard,” shouted, “But, look, look at the little baitert tent. He has a striped pole in front of it at last.” It was quite true. There stood the pole outside the tentj ered from top to bottom withered, white, and blue. : ■ “Well, isn’t that nice,” Leonard softly. ' • ..(• “Yes,” answered Lionel, and they both smiled and felt happy once |gauj and after that, in Dumley, there' were three barbers; and that was as « should be. There should always M » place for everyone to work », » as there are enough twigs for oiW» in the trees. Besides, after the little barber had been there for a while, everyone had tidy, shining hair, whether his POCK« held pound notes, shillings, or pennies.