Матильда
The Platinum-Blond Man
Towhichthefatherhadsnapped,"Ifyoucan’ttalksensethenshutup."
Anyway,Mr.Wormwoodkepthishairlookingbrightandstrong,orsohethought,byrubbingintoiteverymorninglargequantitiesofalotioncalledOILOFVIOLETSHAIRTONIC.Abottleofthissmellypurplemixturealwaysstoodontheshelfabovethesinkinthebathroomalongsideallthetoothbrushes,andaveryvigorousscalpmassagewithOILOFVIOLETStookplacedailyaftershavingwascompleted.Thishairandscalpmassagewasalways,accompaniedbyloudmasculinegruntsandheavybreathingandgaspsof"Ahhh,that’sbetter!That’sthestuff!Rubitrightintotheroots!"whichcouldbeclearlyheardbyMatildainherbedroomacrossthecorridor.
Now,intheearlymorningprivacyofthebathroom,Matildaunscrewedthecapofherfather’soilofvioletsandtippedthree-quartersofthecontentsdownthedrain.Thenshefilledthebottleupwithhermother’sPLATINUMBLONDEHAIR-DYEEXTRASTRONG.Shecarefullyleftenoughofherfather’soriginalhairtonicinthebottlesothatwhenshegaveitagoodshakethewholethingstilllookedreasonablypurple.Shethenreplacedthebottleontheshelfabovethesink,takingcaretoputhermother’sbottlebackinthecupboard.Sofarsogood.
AtbreakfasttimeMatildasatquietlyatthedining-roomtableeatinghercornflakes.Herbrothersatoppositeherwithhisbacktothedoordevouringhunksofbreadsmotheredwithamixtureofpeanut-butterandstrawberryjam.
