Do tell me what has happened and what has
become of your beautiful hair; oh you had such a wealth of tresses, I
really loved to toy with them. Was your head so painful that the doctor
ordered them to be cut?"
"Oh, no," she said burying her face in the pillow and breaking into a
paroxysm of tears. "Oh, Miss Belle, how can I tell you," she replied
recovering from her sudden outburst of sorrow.
"Why, what is it darling? I am at a loss to know what has become of your
beautiful hair."
With gentle womanly tact Belle saw that the loss of her hair was a
subject replete with bitter anguish, and turning to the children she
took them in her lap and interested and amused them by telling beautiful
fairy stories. In a short time Mary's composure returned, and she said,
"Miss Belle, I can now tell you how I lost my hair. Last night my
husband, or the wreck of what was once my husband, came home. His eyes
were wild and bloodshot; his face was pale and haggard, his gait uneven,
and his hand trembling. I have seen him suffering from _Manipaotu_ and
dreaded lest he should have a returning of it.
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