Chapter 3

 

The Wealthy Barber

 

WHEN WE ARRIVED AT ROY'S, he was just finishing up Mr. Thacker's shave, if you can call it a shave. I don't think Mr. Thacker has had any facial hair growth since he turned ninety, five years ago.

"How are you, Johnny?" Mr. Thacker inquired, looking me straight in the eye. "I'm Dave."

"Sorry, Dan. I always get you confused with your brother."

"I don't have a brother, Mr. Thacker. You're thinking of—"

"Dear me, what happened to your brother? The poor boy couldn't have been more than thirty!"

"I never had a brother. You're thinking of—"

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry. I thought you were one of the Richardson boys, the principal's sons."

I wasn't at all sure how to proceed at this point, but before I had a chance to decide, Mr. Thacker had started for the door.

"The old man's getting a bit senile, isn't he, Roy?" I sympathized, after the door had closed.