Winifred Ayres tittered outright, but the advent of
Dozia Dalton furnished a welcome interruption.
“Girls,” she panted, “what ever
do you think? Dol Vincez, our dangerous adversary
of last year, runs the beauty shop beyond our gate!
Can you comprehend the audacity?”
“We can when you say Dolorez,” replied
Jane. “Do you actually mean to say she
has set up the College Beauty Shop at our very door?”
“She has!” declared the excited Dozia.
“Who would dare trust a live and workable phiz
to that—traitor?”
“Not I,” said Velma Sigsbee.
“Nor I,” from Maud Leslie.
“My face must serve me this term,” added
Inez Wilson, twisting her features to make sure they
worked well.
“All the same,” demurred Judith, “the
temptation is not to be laughed at. Just imagine
real dimples speared in,” with a finger poked
in Maud Leslie’s cheek, “and long silky
lashes tangles in one’s violet gaze——”
This was too much even for staid juniors and the race
that followed almost justified Shirley’s much
criticised romp. With this difference: Wellington
Hall was now out of the shadows made by the swaying
stream of laughing students darting in and out of
the autumn sunshine that lay like stripes of panne
velvet on the sward, but Shirley’s run had begun
at the very steps.
Recreation had its limits and that day was counted
lost into which a race over the pleasure grounds had
not been crowded. It might be for tennis, or
even baseball, or yet to the lake, but a run was inevitable.
And so they ran.
THRILLING NEWS
Did you read your note, Dinksy?” Judith asked
Jane, using the particular pet name adopted because
of its very remote distance from the original.
“You know I did, Pally.” This was
from Pal, of course.
“A bomb threat?”
“Not quite.” Jane’s hair was
rebellious this morning and just now received a real
cuffing at its owner’s hands.
“How perfectly peachy you would look bobbed,
Dinksy. That color and those smooth silky curls!
How the angels must have loved you. Know this
line?
“’Methinks some cherub holds
thee fair,
For kissing down thy sunny
hair
I find his ringlets tangled
there!’”
“You would,” interrupted Jane sacrilegiously.
“More than his ringlets tangled here this morning,”
with a final jab of the strongest variety of golden
bone hair-pin. “Aunt Mary always said my
mood (she meant temper) affected my hair. And
I am sure she was always right about it.”
“Well, you don’t have to tell me about
the note if you don’t want to, Janie,”
pouted Judith. “But my idea is, you need
counsel and I am as ever the expert.”
“Fair Portia, thou shalt be my counsel ever.
I had no thought of hiding the little note,”
insisted Jane, “but it is horribly disappointing.
Wait until I rescue it from the basket. There’s
always a charm about the original.” “Don’t
bother, please, Jane,” begged Judith. “We
are almost late and I hope for a set of tennis before
class. I need it every day to keep off the heartbreak.
Darlink Sanzie,” she sniffled. “To
think he will nary again bat a ball in my black eye.”
