FATHER GUSSON’S SECRET

One day a peddler, such as often come round to villages, laden like a mule, and leading by the bridle an ass still more laden, appeared at the farm. Both looked well but tired and dusty they seemed to have had a long journey.

Father Gusson, such was the good man’s name, sold all sorts of things, from tooth-brushes to shoes, including hardware, glassware, notions, drugs, and even patent medicines.

Mother Etienne received him kindly and after letting him show her the things in which she was interested, she offered him refreshment and suggested that he should take a little rest at the farm. This he accepted without needing any pressing.

The donkey, relieved straightway from his load, was led into the paddock, where he wallowed in the tall grass, rolling on his back, his feet in the air. He enjoyed cleaning himself up like this after his dusty journey, then, rested he took his luncheon, choosing here and there the daintiest morsels; after which he lay down and philosophised at length.

All this time, Mother Etienne and Germaine were buying, tempted by one thing after another, silks, laces, stuffs for dresses, and a number of toilet articles, for both were, though you would not have suspected it, rather coquettish. Father Gusson delighted with his visit to the farm and the business he had done there was anxious to leave Mother Etienne a little remembrance.

“Madame,” he said, holding out a small china jar carefully sealed with parchment, “assuredly you do not need this just now, but if I should never come back, and if it should happen that one day your beautiful hair should grow thin, turn grey, or fall out, you have only to rub your head with this sweet-scented ointment and at once your hair will grow again thick and of its original colour. I cannot, alas! give you the recipe, it is a secret left me by my parents.”

Then Father Gusson bade farewell to the two women and went on his way with “Neddy,” both much refreshed by their pleasant rest.

Mother Etienne handed Germaine the precious pot of ointment to put with their other purchases into the big cupboard, and they thought no more about it.

One day as she sat by the fire with Yollande, watching the dinner, a bright and whimsical idea occurred to the maid. “Supposing I were to try the ointment on the hen? But it might be good for feathers too anyhow, it could not do any harm.”

Saying this she went, found the ointment, and delicately rubbed a little onto Yollande’s head. Yollande did not appear to mind at all. Germaine did this three days running.

Two weeks later Mother Etienne while dressing her hen, as she did each day, found a thick reddish down sprouting round her head like a little flat wig. She showed it to Germaine, who paid no attention, having quite forgotten her childish trick.

But during the next few days the wig prospered; the hair was two finger-breadths long, very thick and curly. Mother Etienne could not understand it at all. Germaine could not, at first, make up her mind to confess to her mistress what she had done.

At last one evening, Mother Etienne being in a particularly good humour, the young girl took courage and told her all about it. Far from scolding her, her mistress was delighted, and so pleased at the news that she there and then undressed Yollande and rubbed her from head to foot with Father Gusson’s marvellous ointment. She did the thing thoroughly rubbing it into every pore. Then they made a good fire so that the poor little model, thus exposed, should not take cold.

After that they watched her every instant; they were for ever undressing her to see if the cure was working they could hardly bear to wait. Just think if it were to succeed. It would be the end and aim of all their care. Yollande could once again take her proper place in the world.

At last what had happened to the head, happened to the body too. Before a week had gone by a thick down completely covered the big hen. The good women, much wondering, imagined that as it grew stronger the hair would change into feathers. Anxiously they awaited the change. Nothing of the sort happened. The hair remained hair red, Titian red fine and soft, curling round your fingers, admirable in quality and colour.

The hair on the head, older than that on the rest of the body, was much longer, which suggested to the mischievous Germaine the idea of making her an elaborate headdress.

Nothing like it had ever been seen before.

Soon Yollande was able to discard some of her clothes. Her breast and back required for a time yet a little covering, but this grew gradually less and less.

Naturally the phenomenon was much discussed in the neighbourhood, and it attracted many and delightful visitors to the farm, all of whom Mother Etienne welcomed cordially. Yollande was less pleased with this desire to inspect her. Generally some unbeliever would tug at her hair, a painful experience for her. So, except towards her mistress and Germaine, she had become exceedingly vindictive and watchful. Every time she had the chance she pecked with her short, stout beak at the person indiscreet enough to take such liberties. One little visitor, more daring than the rest, nearly lost his finger over it.

The fame of the curly-haired hen was tremendous, it spread even beyond the limits of the district. It was really worth a journey to see her. They wrote of it in the newspapers. The “Daily Mirror,” I think it was, had a fine long article about her.

But in certain quarters, the whole thing was looked upon as a “fish story.”