San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1889-03-13
MR.. SAINTOU.

| Il. Ou,U
man, therefore his English neiShbors re-
| garded him with suspicion. He was also ex-
ceedingly stout, and his stoutness had come
upon him at an unbecomingly early age, SO
that he had long been the object of his neigh
bors' merriment. When to these facts it Is
added that, although keen and prosperous
business man, he had attained the age of u
without making any effort to marry, enough
will have been said to show why he was dis
| liked.
Why was he not married! Were English
women not good enough for him! The pretty
milliner across the street had been heard to
remark in his presence that she should never
| refuse a man simply because he was for
eigner Or if he did not want an English
wife, why did he not import one from Paris
| with his perfumes9 No, there was no reason
for his behavior, and Mr.. Saintou was the
object of his neighbors' aversion.
Neighbors are often wrong in their esti-
mates. In the heart Of this shrewd and stout
French hair dresser there lay the capacity for
| that one supreme and lasting affection which
is the halo crown of every truly noble life,
| and of which how many hearts, which bear
this worlds reputation of nobility, fall
short Yes, Mr.. SaintOu's love storywas in
| the past, and it had come about in this way.
One day, when the hair dresser was still
young man, not long after he had first settled
| in Albert street, the door of his shop opened
| and a young woman came in. Her figure
| was short and broad and she was lame,
walking with a crutch Her face and feat
| ures were large and peculiarly frank in ex-
| preston, and upon her head was a very large
hat When she spoke 1t was with loud
| staccato voice; her words fell after one an
| other like hail stones in e storm; there was
| no breathing space between them.
81 want Mr.. Saintou."
What may have the pleasure of show
| ing madames"
Good gracious, told you l wanted to be
shown Mr.. Saintou. Are you Mr.. Saintou1
None of your assistants for me- | want my
hair cut"
The hair dresser laid his hand upon his
heart, as though to point out his own identity.
Every WE'LL" said the little lady, appar-
emily satisfied with the Identification, 81
want my hair cut. 1t is like a sheaf of corn
| 1t is like a court train. 1t is like seven
horses names tied together if they were red
| 1t is like a comets tail "
It is probable that the hair dresser only
took in that part of his speech upon which he
was in the habit of concentrating his atten-
| ton, and that the force of the SMILES which
| followed one another like electric shocks es-
capped him altogether. He was about to
| show the new customer into the ladies' room
where his staid and elderly sister was accUs-
| toned to officiate, but she drew back with
| decision.
mo, not at all; have come to have my
| hair cut by Mr.. SaintOu, and | want to have
| it done in the room with the long row of
chairs where the long row Of men get shaved
every morning. told my sister l should sit
there You have no men in at this time of
day, have you, Mr.. Saintou? Now | shall
sit here in the middle chair, and you shall
wash my hair.
} MY father is the baker around the corner.
He makes good bread; do you wash peoples
hair as well2 VIII you squirt water on it
with that funny tube' Will you putt in my
eyes. Now, am up on the chair. Don't put
the soap in my eyes, Mr. Saintou."
Saintou was not a man easily surprised.
Permit me, mademoiselle, would it not be
| better to remove the haiti Mon Dieu! Holy
Mary, what hair" For as the eastern wo-
man carry their burdens on the crown Of the
head to ease the weight, so, when the large
hat was off, it appeared that the bakers
daughter carried her hair.
Like the hair of a woman on a hair re,
stOrer bottle if it were red" remarked the
girl in answer to the exclamation.
No, mademOiselle, no, it is not red. Mon
Deu! it is not red Holy Mary! it is the
color of the sun. Mon Dieu, what hairr' Al
he untwined the masses it fell over the long
bib, over the high chair, down till it swept
the floor, in one unbrOken food of light
Wash it, and cut it, and let me go home
to make my fathers dinner" said the quick
voice with decision. my father Is the baker
round the corner, and he takes his dinner
at2"
SIS it that mademoiselle desires the end,
cut" asked the hairdresser, resuming his pro
fessional manner.
(which endS!"
(Which endsr he exclaimed, baffled
Mon Dieu! these ends" and he lifted
: handful of the hair on the floor and held il
before the eyes of the girl
Good heavens, mol Do you think l ar
going to pay you for cutting those ends2 til
J the ends at the top Il want cut. Tighten it
, that's what want Do you think | am
/ woman in hair dresser's advertisement t.
sit all day looking at my hair2 have t
get my fathers dinner Tighten it, Mr.
Saintou; cut it off; that's what | want"
"Mon Dieu, mol" Saintou again relapset
: from the hair dresser into the man. He, too
! could have decision. He leaned against tn
, next chair and set his lips very firmly to
, gether. "By all that is holy, no" he said
4 ''yOu may get some villain Englishman t.
cut that hair, but me, never"
, You speak English very WELL Mr.. Sain
i