I cannot wait." The barber smiled, and produced a gold piece and five silver ones.
"You may hold the money in your hand," he said, offering it to her, "while you sit down and I do the work." Vjera clutched the coins fiercely and placed herself in the big chair before the mirror.

She could see in the glass that her eyes were on fire.
The barber loosened a screw in the back of the seat and removed the block with the cushion, handing it to his assistant.
"The scissors, and a comb, Anton," he said briskly, lifting at the same time the heavy tress and judging its weight.

The reflection of the steel flashed in the mirror, as the artist quickly opened and shut the scissors, with that peculiar shuffling jingle which only barbers can produce.
"Wait a minute!" cried Vjera, with sudden anxiety, and turning her head as though to draw away her hair from his grasp.

"One minute--please--fifteen and thirty-five are really fifty, are they not ?" The tadpole began to count on his fingers, whispering audibly.
"Yes," answered the barber.

"Fifteen and thirty-five are fifty." The tadpole desisted, having already got into mathematical difficulties in counting from one hand over to the other.
"Then cut it off quickly, please!" said poor Vjera, settling herself in the chair again, and giving her head to the shears.
In the silence that followed, only the soft jingle of the scissors was heard.
"There!" exclaimed the hairdresser, holding up a hand-mirror behind her.
"I have been generous, you see.