The Girl with Red Hair.

Timaru Herald, Volume LXXXI, Issue 12480, 17 September 1904, Page 2 (Supplement)

The Girl with Red Hair.

"' Yes," said the doctor, who was also an old friend of the father, " It's a remarkably fine and healthy child. There's only one thing you may not- like." " What is it ?" asked the father, anxiously. " Well, it looks to me very much as if she would have red hair." " Good heavens I" said the father, " that is my Great-great-uncle Anthony. It is not the first time that horrible feature of his has cropped up in the family. Red hair! Well, we all have our cross." The baby, as it was hot infrequent with babies, grew up to be a girl. She went into the great, world of other girls, at least as much of the great world as could be got into an excellent boarding school at Ramsgate. She found there friends and enemies. The enemies, with the tactlessness of youth, said " Ginger 1" in a loud voice when she went past. So she turned to her friends, even to her dearest friend of all. "I want- you to le'l me the truth," she said. "Is my h:>ir too awful?"

"No, not awful. It's red, of course, but then think what lots of it you've got." It seemed to lier a poor consolation—when a thing is bad to reflect that you've got a great deal of it. For a \riiiie she was depressed. She even thought and spoke of the religious life. " That would be no good to you," laughed a much older girl. They wouldn't have you." "Why not?" " Because of the colour of your hair. That means a certain temperament, you know."

But the ni-ron with the red hair did not know, and she was still young, and there were plenty of things to eat, and some of ti em were nice. And there were games to be played, and there were lots of other girls to join in the fun. She thought little more of the colour of her hair until she went out into the world.

Yes, as almost invariably happens when a girl grows up, she became a woman. She was quiet and subdued. She dressed very, very meekly, She talked patiently to e'derly married men and did not expect the least attention from men of her own age. She was good to the poor and she was kind to cats, and this went on until she happened to overhear the really great artist.

The really great artist was talking aloud and at large, with the door open. She heard hsr csme mentioned with an ecstatic intonation. And the devil tempted her to listen a moment or two Inoger. "Of course." the great artist paid, " she would be beautiful anyhow, but the crown of it all is that I':ir. I never saw such an absolutely lovely colour. It is perfectly glorious. How other -women must envy her."

Then she went upstairs and rang licr bell and said she was going to have her hair done in quite a different way. And when it was done in quite a. different way so as to display it to the uttermost she went out into Regent street and the parts about Bond street, and in that neighbourhood spent fur more than she could afford on new dresses.

>She had spent so much that she went home tame and economical in a sordid omnibus. And in the omnibus she overheard, " Yes, but I fiever could stand red hair."

She thought then that it was the greatest of pities that there were not more really fine artists in the world. Others have had the same thought, and there is much to be said for it. Was she a charm or was she a disgrace? It is terrible to have neither the confidence of beauty nor the resignation of the definitely plain. There flashed into her mind something that a girl at school had said about temperament. She was not conscious that she had got any temperament. She sought, ont an elderly psychologist of her acquaintance with a face like an educated chimpanzee and asked him about it. • "T wish to goodness." he said irritably, "you wouldn't put these personal questions to me. U you must- know I should say that red hair is almost invariab'y associated with strong passions and not infrequently with an untrustworthy disposition." So she sought out another psychologist of quite a different kind. He was a remote and dreamy old man. He bleated to her mnch that she did not understand, but she did gather definitely that there was no such thing as colour and no such thing as hair; they were a part of the box of delusions which we are pleased to dignify with the name of life, they had no absolute existence, and if they had it would not matter.

And then this poor woman gave it up. It is difficult to be one definite character all by yourself with no support from the prevailing opinions of others. Her own individuality was not strong enough to stand the conflict of judgments. To ono she was beautiful and to one she was plain. Some accredited her with temperament, but on this the last psychologist had had nothing to say. She simply did riot- know where 6he was. She was like a cork tossed on a whirlpool. It was too bad. And it was all because she) had red iiair. There seemed to her to bo nothing for it but death. So sue dyed.