you have to
do to change your hair dark. Of course, it's perfectly ladylike to make
it dark. It's only bad form to dye it light."

"Judy, you haven't?" they cried.

"I certainly have," she answered carelessly, and she proceeded to take
out all the hair pins from her fluffy thick hair and let it down. "It's
raven black."

It was, in fact, an unnatural blue-black, something the color of shoe
blacking.

"Oh, Judy, Judy, what will you do next?" cried Molly in real distress.

"What will that girl make her do next?" put in Nance, in a disgusted
tone.

"Now, Nance, I knew you'd say just that, but it's not true. I did it of
my own free will. I always loved black and I've wanted black hair all my
life."

"What will Miss Walker say?" asked some one.

"She probably won't know anything about it. I doubt if she remembers the
original color of my hair, anyhow. I'm sorry you don't think it's
becoming to me. Adele thought it suited me perfectly. Much better than
the original mousy-brown shade."

"I recognize Adele's fine touch in that expression, 'mousy-brown,'" put
in Edith.

"Did Adele do anything to change her appearance?" asked Margaret.

"Oh, no, she is just right as she is. Her hair is a perfect shade,
'Titian Brown,' it's called. But, girls, I must tell you about the
marvelous face cream, 'Cucumber Velvet'; it bleaches and heals at the
same time."

"Oh, go to," cried Katherine. "Judy, you are so benighted, I don't know
what's coming to you. Don't you know that Adele Windsor made Otoyo,
here----"

"No, no," broke in Otoyo. "I have never told the name. I gave my
honorable promise not to. I beg you not to mention it."

"What's all this?" Judy began when the ten o'clock bell boomed and the
girls scattered to their various rooms.

That night, undressing in the dark, Nance and Molly explained to Judy
what had happened.

"But are you sure she did it?" Judy demanded. "Otoyo never said so, did
she?"

"No, but we are sure, anyway."

"I don't believe it," exclaimed Judy hotly. "Adele is the soul of honor.
I shall never believe it unless Otoyo really tells the name."

And so Judy went off to bed entirely unreasonable about this new and
fascinating friend.

"All I can say for you, Judy," said Molly, standing in Judy's bedroom
doorway, "is that I hate your black hair, but do you remember that old
poem we used to sing as children? I'm sure you must have known it. Most
children have."

Then Molly recited in her mu