"Side-combs," said my aunt; she was always losing or breaking her
side-combs.

"But I mean if you were me," I explained.

"Drat the child!" said my aunt; "how do I know what he wants if he
don't know himself. Idiot!"

The shop windows into which I stared, my nose glued to the pane! The
things I asked the price of! The things I made up my mind to buy and
then decided that I wouldn't buy! Even my patient mother began to
show signs of irritation. It was rapidly assuming the dimensions of a
family curse, was old Hasluck's half-crown.

Then one day I made up my mind, and so ended the trouble. In the
window of a small plumber's shop in a back street near, stood on view
among brass taps, rolls of lead piping and cistern requisites, various
squares of coloured glass, the sort of thing chiefly used, I believe,
for lavatory doors and staircase windows. Some had stars in the
centre, and others, more elaborate, were enriched with designs, severe
but inoffensive. I purchased a dozen of these, the plumber, an
affable man who appeared glad to see me, throwing in two extra out of
sheer generosity.

Why I bought them I did not know at the time, and I do not know now.
My mother cried when she saw them. My father could get no further
than: "But what are you going to do with them?" to which I was unable
to reply. My aunt, alone, attempted comfort.

"If a person fancies coloured glass," said my aunt, "then he's a fool