filed in without disturbing him. Agnes punched Neale with her elbow and
scowled at him.

"What did you want to do that for?" she hissed.

"Do what for?" he responded, trying to look unconscious.

"You know. Fix your hair like that?"

"Because you called me 'tow-head,'" he whispered, grinning.

When Mrs. MacCall caught her first glimpse of him when they got up to
sing, she started, stared, and almost expressed her opinion aloud.

"What under the canopy's the matter with that boy's head?" she whispered
to Ruth when they were seated again.

And there was reason for asking! As the service proceeded and Neale's
hair grew dryer, the sun shining upon his head revealed a wealth of
iridescence that attracted more attention than the minister's sermon.

The glossy brown gave way before a greenish tinge that changed to purple
at the roots. The dye would have been a success for an Easter egg, but
as an application to the hair, it was not an unqualified delight--at
least, not to the user.

The more youthful and thoughtless of the congregation--especially those
behind the unconscious Neale--found amusement enough in the exhibition.
The pastor discovered it harder than ever that morning to hold the
attention of certain irreverent ones, and being a near-sighted man, he
was at fault as to the reason for the bustle that increased as his
sermon proceeded.

The Corner House girls--especially Ruth and Agnes--began to feel the
matter acutely. Neale was quite unconscious of the result of the dye
upon his hair. As the minutes passed and the rainbow effect became more
and more visible, the disturbance became more pronounced.

Suddenly there sounded the important creaking of Deacon Abel's boots
down the aisle. Agnes flashed a look over her shoulder. The stern old
deacon was aiming straight for their pew!

CHAPTER VIII

INTRODUCTIONS

"Oh, goodness to gracious! Here comes old Mr. Abel--and he has fire in
his eye, Ruth!" gasped Agnes.

"What--what's he going to do?" stammered Ruth, clinging to Agnes' hand
under the hymn-book which they shared together.

"Something awful! Poor Neale!"

"His head looks a fright," declared Ruth.

"And everybody's laughing," groaned Agnes.

"Girls!" admonished Mrs. MacCall, "try to behave."

The creaking of the deacon's boots drew near. Old Mr. Abel kept a
cut-price shoe shop and it was a joke among the young folk of Milton
that all the shoes he sold were talking shoes, for when you w