Henry and Ribsy (Henry Huggins #3)(11)

“Dad!” yelled Henry.

Mrs. Huggins giggled. Henry scowled.

Mr. Huggins held a lock of Henry’s hair up with a comb and sheared the ends off with the clippers. “This isn’t so easy,” he said. “Your hair grows every which way back here.” He combed and clipped another lock and then another. “There,” he said at last, and turned off the clippers.

Neither of Henry’s parents spoke.

“Let me see.” Henry jerked off the sheet and ran to the mirror in his room. He stared, too horrified to speak. His hair was shorter on the left side than on the right. Both sides were rough and the top looked chewed. Henry ran his hands over the back of his head. He did not need to see it. He could tell what his father meant about moths. He could never go outdoors looking like this. He would have to stay in the house for weeks, even months, until his hair grew out.

Mrs. Huggins came into the room and put her arm around Henry’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Henry. I thought I could do a better job,” she said. “I’m sure it will look all right in a few days.”

“Don’t worry, son,” said Mr. Huggins. “It’ll grow out in no time and next time we’ll do better.”

“Next time!” Henry stared at himself in the mirror. “I can’t go to school looking like this. I’ll have to stay home. I’ll get behind in arithmetic and I won’t know the folk dances and—”

“Oh, Henry,” interrupted his mother, “it isn’t that bad. It will be grown out before you know it.”

“But it won’t grow out by Monday and that’s when school starts.”

When Henry’s mother and father left the room, Henry threw himself on the bed and pounded the pillow with his fist. He would have to think of something to do about his hair. He would just have to, that was all. Maybe he could get a wig. Or have all his hair cut off and say he was tired of having hair. There was one thing he was sure of. He couldn’t face the kids, especially Scooter, looking like this. Some bits of hair that had fallen down Henry’s back made him itch. He scratched and thought.

Then he got up and pulled his Daniel Boone coonskin hat out of a drawer. He put it on and looked at himself in the mirror. No, it wouldn’t do. Even with the tail hanging down, too much hair showed. He put it back and pulled out his sailor hat. No, it wouldn’t do either. Wait a minute, he thought, and turned down the brim. Yes, that did it. The turned down brim hid every bit of his hair. It hid his eyebrows, too, but he didn’t care.

Henry looked at himself in the mirror, wiggled first his right tooth and then his left tooth, and felt a little better. Maybe he could find something to rub into his scalp to stimulate the growth of hair the way the advertisements said.

Ribsy whimpered at the front door. Henry let him out and then decided to go out with him. Even if he did look funny, he’d better keep his eye on Ribsy every minute. He wasn’t going to miss that fishing trip if he could help it.

Henry sat on the front steps with his arm around Ribsy’s neck and laid his cheek against Ribsy’s ear. Good old Ribsy. He seemed to understand. Funny how Ribsy’s ears were so silky when the rest of his hair was so rough. And he smelled good, too—a nice doggy smell. Henry scratched Ribsy behind his right ear. Thump, thump, thump went Ribsy’s tail on the step.

Then Ribsy trotted into the shrubbery and came back with his rope, which he dropped at Henry’s feet. He looked at Henry and wagged his tail.

“Oh, so you want to play tug-of-war.” Henry tossed one end of the rope to his dog, who grabbed it with his mouth and growled a pretend growl. Henry pulled at the rope. Ribsy hung on and pulled harder. “Good old Ribsy,” said Henry. It wasn’t every dog that would play tug-of-war.

Henry was still playing with Ribsy when he noticed Scooter McCarthy pedaling down Klickitat Street on his bicycle with Robert riding on the back fender. It was too late for Henry to retreat into the house. His friends had already seen him.

Scooter stopped in front of Henry. “Hi,” he said. “What are you wearing that sailor hat like that for?”

“None of your beeswax,” answered Henry.

The two boys got off the bicycle and joined Henry on the steps. Henry watched Scooter in case he tried to snatch the sailor hat.

“I bet all your hair fell out,” said Scooter. “I bet you’re bald.”

“My hair didn’t either fall out,” said Henry.

“Then why—” began Robert.

Henry quickly interrupted. “I have two loose teeth,” he said to change the subject. “Thee, thith and thith. They’re canine teeth. That means teeth like a dog.”

“Aw, I lost those teeth ages ago,” boasted Scooter.

“Sure you did,” said Henry. “You’re older than me.”

“How about letting me pull them for you?” suggested Scooter.

“No, let me,” begged Robert.

“Nope,” said Henry, pleased at getting their attention away from his hat.

“Aw, come on, Huggins,” coaxed Scooter. “I’ll give you a piece of Chinese money that has a hole in the center.”

Henry shook his head. He hoped he could keep them talking about his teeth until his mother called him in to dinner.



“Please, Henry,” said Robert. “I’ll let you make a tunnel out of a coffee can for my electric railroad.”