oved to pick her up and comfort her and
put her out of harm's way as she would have done to a helpless little
kitten. But she did not know how to begin. Naturally undemonstrative,
any expression of sympathy was hard for her to make. They had grown into
very friendly relations this last month. Warwick Hall had widened
Ethelinda's horizon, until she was able to take an interest in many
things now outside of her own narrow self-centred circle.

As they started to undress she managed to ask, "Well, have you sent for
that watch-fob yet?"

Mary shook her head, trying hard to swallow a sob, as she bent over an
open bureau drawer. "I've decided not to order it."

Then Ethelinda, putting two and two together, guessed the reason. If
Mary could have known how long she lay awake that night, devising some
scheme to help her out of her difficulty, she would not have been so
surprised next morning when a hesitating voice spoke up from the
opposite bed, just after the rising bell.

"Mary, will you promise not to get mad and throw things at me if I ask
you something?" She went on hurriedly, for they both recalled a scene
when such a thing had happened. She felt she had blundered by alluding
to it.

"I wouldn't dare ask it at all if I didn't know that you had failed with
your candy, and might want to raise your Christmas funds some other way.
No, I guess I'd better not ask you, after all. It might make you
furious."

Mary sat up in bed, not only curious to know what it is Ethelinda was
afraid to ask, but wondering at her hesitancy. Heretofore she had
stopped at nothing; the most cutting allusions to Mary's appearance,
behaviour and friends. They had both been appallingly frank at times.
Their growing friendship seemed to thrive on this outspokenness.

"Oh, go on!" begged Mary. "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