behind Fatty's back, because Fatty certainly did look funny with his fur
all ragged and uneven.

"Moustache trimmed?" Jimmy Rabbit asked, when he had finished with
Fatty's head.

"Certainly--of course!" Fatty Coon answered. And pretty soon Fatty's
long white moustache lay on the floor of the barber-shop. Fatty felt a
bit uneasy as he looked down and saw his beautiful moustache lying at
his feet. "You haven't cut it too short, I hope," he said.

"No, indeed!" Jimmy Rabbit assured him. "It's the very latest style."

"What on earth has happened to you?" Mrs. Coon cried,--when Fatty
reached home that night. "Have you been in a fire?"

"It's the latest style, Mother," Fatty told her. "At least, that's what
Jimmy Rabbit says." He felt the least bit uneasy again.

"Did you let that Jimmy Rabbit do that to you?" Mrs. Coon asked.

Fatty hung his head. He said nothing at all. But his mother knew.

"Well! you ARE a sight!" she exclaimed. "It will be months before you
look like my child again. I shall be ashamed to go anywhere with you."

Fatty Coon felt very foolish. And there was just one thing that kept him
from crying. And THAT was THIS: he made up his mind that when he played
barber-shop with Jimmy Rabbit again he would get even with him.