"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.