Mary sat up in bed, not only curious to know what it is Ethelinda was
afraid to ask, but wondering at her hesitancy. Heretofore she had
stopped at nothing; the most cutting allusions to Mary's appearance,
behaviour and friends. They had both been appallingly frank at times.
Their growing friendship seemed to thrive on this outspokenness.

"Oh, go on!" begged Mary. "I'd rather you'd make me furious than to keep
me so curious, and I'll give you my word of honour I won't get mad."

"Well, then," began Ethelinda, slowly, "you know I had such a cold last
week when the hair-dresser came, that I couldn't have my usual shampoo,
and she always charges a dollar when she makes an extra trip just for
one head. She wouldn't come this week anyhow, no matter how much I paid
her, because she is so busy, and I simply must have my hair washed
before the night of the tableaux. So I thought--if you didn't mind doing
a thing like that--for me--you might as well have the dollar."

There was a pause. A long one. Ethelinda knew that Mary was recalling
her speech about a lady's maid, and felt that the silence, so long and
oppressive, was ominous. If she had asked it as a favour, Mary would not
have hesitated an instant. The other girls often played barber for each
other, making a frolic out of the affair. But for _Ethelinda_, and for
_money_! That made a menial task of it, and her pride rose up in arms at
the thought.

"Now you _are_ mad! I knew you'd be!" came in anxious tones from the
other bed. "I wish I had kept my mouth shut."

"No, I'm not," asserted Mary, stoutly. "I'm making up my mind. I was
just thinking that you wouldn't do it if you were in my place, and I