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Updated: May 11, 2025
'It might, said Robert; 'but I should think paraffin would do as well at any rate as far as the smell goes, and that seems to be the great thing about Tatcho. But with all its faults Anthea's idea was something to do, and they did it. It was Cyril who fetched the Tatcho bottle from father's washhand-stand. But the bottle had not much in it.
A big sandy man, not hitherto seen, was rolling his loose-knit body up and down the platform, smiling at the people and mopping a great bony skull, on which, low down, a few scanty wisps of colourless hair were growing. 'If you can't afford a bottle of Tatcho, a boy called out, 'w'y don't you get yer 'air cut?
"Because his hair grew thin on the top, and even Tatcho didn't fetch up another crop of curls, and Andromeda so objected to seeing him bald that there was nothing for it but to turn Moslem and wear a turban. He did it in self-defence, because she threatened to buy him a dark wig, and he said it would make him look like a Jew."
So a small teaspoonful of the Tatcho was put on the edges of the worst darn in the carpet and rubbed carefully into the roots of the hairs of it, and all the parts that there was not enough Tatcho for had paraffin rubbed into them with a piece of flannel. Then the flannel was burned. It made a gay flame, which delighted the Phoenix and the Lamb.
The Phoenix yawned. 'Look here, said Anthea; 'I really have an idea. This isn't like a common carpet. It's very magic indeed. Don't you think, if we put Tatcho on it, and then gave it a rest, the magic part of it might grow, like hair is supposed to do?
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