Henry and Ribsy (Henry Huggins #3)(10)

“Now, Henry,” said Mrs. Huggins soothingly, “I’m sure that with a little practice I can do just as good a job as the barber. And with the price of haircuts, think of the money we’ll save.”

“Mom!” wailed Henry, clutching his hair. He didn’t want to save money. He wanted to save his hair. “Are you going to cut Dad’s hair, too?”

Mrs. Huggins laughed as she unwrapped the clippers. “Your father’s hair is precious, now that it’s getting so thin on top. We can’t afford to take chances with it.”

“My hair’s precious, too,” said Henry, deciding he wasn’t hungry after all. He handed Ribsy the bread and butter and watched him gulp it down. Then he leaned gloomily against the refrigerator and wiggled first his right tooth and then his left tooth. Jeepers, he thought, now what am I going to do?

Mrs. Huggins took a sheet out of a drawer. “Henry, why do you keep making such awful faces?” she asked.

“I’m not making faces,” said Henry. “I’m wiggling my loose teeth.”

“Which teeth are loose?” Mrs. Huggins asked.

Maybe she’ll forget about cutting my hair, thought Henry, as he went to his mother and bared his teeth. “Thee, thith and thith,” he lisped, as he wiggled first his right tooth and then his left tooth with his tongue.

“They’re your canine teeth,” remarked Mrs. Huggins.

“Canine?” repeated Henry, delighted that he was distracting his mother. “I thought canine meant dog.”

“It does,” answered his mother. “The cuspids are called canine teeth, because they’re pointed like a dog’s teeth.”

“Hey, teeth like a dog,” said Henry. He bared his teeth and growled at Ribsy.

Then Mrs. Huggins said briskly, “Now, Henry, don’t try to change the subject. You sit on this chair and put this sheet around your neck and I’ll go to work.”

“Right this minute?” Henry asked mournfully.

“Right this minute,” said Mrs. Huggins. “Your hair is so scraggly on the back of your neck it looks like fringe.”

“Mom,” wailed Henry, “you can’t do this to me.”

“Now, Henry, don’t worry,” said his mother reassuringly. “On the way home I stopped and watched a barber cutting hair, so I know just how it’s done.”

“Do you think Dad will want you to cut my hair?” Henry asked.

“Oh, yes,” answered Mrs. Huggins. “I phoned him and talked it over with him before I bought the clippers. He thought it was a good idea.”

I might have known they’d stick together, Henry thought miserably, as he slid down in the chair. Why can’t the phone ring or something?

Mrs. Huggins plugged the clippers into the wall and turned on the switch. They chattered so furiously that Henry could not help ducking. Ribsy tucked his tail between his legs and hastily left the kitchen.



Henry felt his mother’s hand on top of his head and heard the clippers at the back of his neck. Then he felt them touch his skin. “Ow,” he exclaimed, and pulled away. “They’re cold.”

“Now, Henry, I haven’t even begun to clip,” said his mother.

Henry gritted his teeth. The clippers touched the back of his neck and whizzed up his head. “Mom!” protested Henry, feeling the back of his head. “That’s too short.”

“The clippers do cut awfully fast.” For the first time Mrs. Huggins sounded doubtful.

Once more the clippers tickled Henry’s neck and chattered up the back of his head. “There,” said Mrs. Huggins. “I didn’t get it quite so close that time.”

“But it’s supposed to match,” said Henry.

“I’ll take a little off right here to even it up,” said Mrs. Huggins.

The clippers swooped down on Henry’s head. Then they whizzed up the back again. Just wait till the kids see this, thought Henry gloomily.

“Hey, what’s going on in here?” It was Henry’s father. The clippers made so much noise that neither Henry nor his mother had heard him come in.

“Dad,” wailed Henry, “look what Mom’s done to me.”

“Hm-m,” said Mr. Huggins, “your hair looks as if the moths had got into it.”

Mrs. Huggins began to laugh, but Henry did not think it was very funny. Who wanted to go around with moth-eaten hair? He slid farther down in his chair and scowled at the kitchen wall.

“Here, let me try,” said Mr. Huggins. “I ought to know how to cut hair. I’ve watched the barber cut mine often enough.” He started the clippers chattering again.

Henry sat up. Maybe his father would be better at cutting hair. He felt his right ear being folded down and heard the clippers whiz up the side of his head.

“Oops!” said Mr. Huggins.

“What do you mean, oops?” demanded Henry crossly.

Instead of answering, Mr. Huggins put his hand under Henry’s chin, tipped his head back, and looked first at the right side and then at the left. He folded down Henry’s left ear and ran the clippers up the side of his head. Then he stepped back to look at the results. “Not too bad,” he observed.

Henry groaned.

“What’ll we do with the top?” asked Henry’s father. “Mow it?”