But when the mother had returned the patent nursing-bottle to
me and saw how impatient I was to be gone, she still retained her
hold upon my arm.
"Sir," she said, "you have undoubtedly saved the life of my
child, and I only regret that I cannot repay you for all it means
to me. But I cannot. Stay!" she cried, when I was about to pull
my arm away. "Has your wife auburn-red hair?"
"No," I said, "she has not. her hair is a most beautiful
black."
"No matter," said the poor woman, putting her hand to her head.
"Some day she may wish to change the colour of her hair to
auburn-red, which is easily done with a little bleach and a
little dye, and should she do so these may come handy;" and with
that she slipped something soft and fluffy into my hand and fled
into the night. When I looked, I saw in my hand the very curls
you hold there. My first impulse was to drop them in the street,
but I remembered that the poor woman had not given them to me,
but to you, and that it was my duty to bring them home to you, so
I slipped them into my pocket.
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