lanky by the way, but as yet she had not darkened the shadowy path.
If Jane could run off to the Rockery, that landmark between freshman
and later college campus lines, there to meet and have done with the
demands of her erstwhile tormentor. But no, Judith was openly
demanding Jane's concentration on the bench, and every point made by
Dozia in her tale of the beauty shop Judith flung at Jane in direct
challenge for stricter attention. She was not going to escape if
Judith Stearns knew it, and she surmised the intention.

It had finally been told to tingling ears that the poisoned beauty
shop, as Winifred Ayres, the writer, had already dubbed the place,
was done in wonderful mirrors, and shiny faucets, windy wizzing hair
fans and electric permanent wavers and curlers; and when the full
description had been given, more girls than one sighed, groaned and
grumbled.

"To think it has to be taboo," spoke Ted Guthrie. "Dol was always a
wizard, and now thus equipped she might have a lovely way of fanning
me thin."

"And fattening me nice and fluffy with the same fan," sighed
Winifred.

"My freckles might float away like powder from the butterfly's
wings," with a weird fluttering of Dozia's long arms.

"But hair!" exclaimed Judith. "Think of turning me into a golden
blonde with eyes like blue-bells under dewiness----"

"It cannot be! It cannot be!" moaned Dozia. "Instead we must raid