waved than anything they had yet seen. M. Joseph would be ready
almost immediately; and in the meanwhile Mrs. Condon could lay aside
her things in preparation for the hair to be washed. She did this
while Linda followed every movement with the deepest interest.

At the back of the long room was a succession of small alcoves, each
with an important-looking chair and mirror and shelves, a white
basin, water-taps and rubber tubes. Settled, in comfort, Mrs.
Condon's hair was spread out in a bright metal tray fastened to the
back of the chair, and the attendant, a moist tired girl in a
careless waist, sprayed the short thick gold-colored strands.

"My," she observed, "what some wouldn't give for your shade! Never
been touched, I can see, either. A lady comes in with real Titian,
but yours is more select. It positively is Lillian Russell." While
she talked her hands sped with incredible rapidity and skill. "The
gentlemen don't notice it; of course not; oh, no! There was a girl
here, a true blonde, but she didn't stay long--her own car, yes,
indeed. Married her right out of the establishment. There wasn't any
nonsense to her.

"So this is your little girl! I'd never have believed it. Not that
she hasn't a great deal of style, a great deal--almost, you might
say, like an Egyptian. In the movies last night; her all over. It's
a type that will need studying. Bertha Kalich. But for me--"

Already, Linda saw, this part of the operation was done. The girl
wheeled into position a case that had a fan and ring of blue
flickering flames, and a cupped tube through which hot air was
poured over her mother's head. M. Joseph strutted in, a small