Judith tried to beg off on her story of the great adventure, but the girls were insistent. "Just tell us what happened when you got inside the Beauty Shop," begged Velma, who had secret dreams of C. O. D. dimples and longed to hear of such possibilities. "It was like a screen comedy," replied Judith, who had been beautifully pillowed up and otherwise made comfortable on Janet's solo-couch. The audience was scattered around on cushions, on the floor, on chairs, and even on the one narrow window sill. Queening it from her pillows Judith looked quite Romanesque, with Jane perched on a cretonne pedestal above the divan's level, waving her riding crop regally. The pedestal really was a specially favored trunk of Jane's which had escaped storage quarters and served many useful and practical purposes, the present being one in point. "You were saying," Jane reminded Judith, placing a firm hand on the heaving breast solemnly, "that the rush in was like a movie scene." "I said comedy, dear; there's a difference. First, Dol opened the pigeon holed door, then Sarah Howland tumbled in howling--she was honestly very much frightened, next went Shirley Duncan. She seemed wild to get under cover. Then I tripped along--" "Not scared or anything?" from Nettie. "Not a bit scared but mad as fury," declared Judith, "for there was old Sour Sandy at my heels taking such long and such big steps I felt every next foot would crush me into the brand new door mat." "Poor Judy," soothed Jane. "And no one to say thee nay!" "Say me nix," moaned Judith. "I would have had thee say other things than that. But to the tale. Have you ever seen a mouse run from a cat and a dog after the cat and a boy after the dog? You know that famous picture, I see. Well, when the messenger boy got away somewhere about Dol's establishment, and Sarah went next, then went Shirley and, Little Me, followed by that giant Sour Sandy! Well, girls, I have to admit that for a few minutes I couldn't see a thing but Dol Vin's eyes. She had me hypnotized," and Judith paused to make sure of the dramatic impression. "I can see her glare!" declared Jane. "Dol's eyes were made for nobler tasks than matching hair shades." "And mixing flesh tints," contributed Dozia, who just then managed to purloin a sample of the fudge. "Are you girls sure that keyhole is sealed and the door still impregnable?" demanded Judith the narrator, with a sweeping glance about the room.