Jane Allen: Junior | Page 9

Wellington the previous year because of
irregularities in many things but particularly in basket ball games. As
told in the book, "Jane Allen: Center," this young lady was really a
teacher of athletics, and had been posing as an amateur. Being forced to
leave college after opening a prohibited beauty shop she vowed
vengeance, and many of the students now felt the Beauty Parlor,
opened at the very gates of Wellington and widely advertised, was
about to assume the dangers of a golden spider web.
The girls were fairly quivering with excitement, when Dozia Dalton,
herald of the sensation, condescended to tell everybody all she knew
about the whole thing.
Velma Sigsbee would insist upon interrupting with silly questions, such
as the price of a bob or the possible pain of operating for double
dimples, but eventually Dozia told the story while Ted Guthrie held
Velma's hand in a compelling grip. It was over on the long low bench
by the ball field where practice should have been kicking up a dust. But
Dol's Beauty Parlor outrage was too delectable to forego even for a
final ball game,
"It's perfectly darling," confided the idolized Dozia (any girl with that
story on her person would be idolized although Dozia was individually
popular). "The place, I mean. It's fitted up----"
"Were--you in?" gasped Winifred Ayres.
"No, of course I was not in," disdained Dozia. "No one who ever knew
the trickery of Dolorez Vincez would enter that place."
"Why?" asked the innocent Nettie Brocton. "Would she really do
something dreadful----"
"She would, really," declared Jane, her tone not easy to interpret. "She

could turn your hair a bright red like mine by mere chemical action of
her ventilating system."
"Really!" implored the dimply girl.
"Pos-i-tive-ly!" declared Jane. "But don't attempt it dear. She would
send your dad an awful bill for doing a stunt like that. Think of the
price of hair like mine!"
That suggestion brought disaster to Jane, for Ted Guthrie swayed at the
very end of the bench and the whole line almost went over backwards.
It was in Ted's attempt to punish Jane for her vanity that the sudden
sweep, like a current in physics, jerked feet from the ground and upset
balance generally. Some seconds elapsed (and each was precious)
before things again settled down, including Velma's crochet balls,
Janet's book, pad, and pencil, Dozia's small bottle of salted peanuts as
well as other sundries and supplies.
"Please finish the yarn," implored Nettie Brocton. "Do tell us, Dozia,
how the place is fitted up."
"First tell us, please," insisted judicial Judith, "how do you know how it
is fitted up? Does our plumber plumb there?"
During all this nonsense Jane cast many a furtive glance along Linger
Lane, expecting the obnoxious Shirley to loom up large and lanky by
the way, but as yet she had not darkened the shadowy path. If Jane
could run off to the Rockery, that landmark between freshman and later
college campus lines, there to meet and have done with the demands of
her erstwhile tormentor. But no, Judith was openly demanding Jane's
concentration on the bench, and every point made by Dozia in her tale
of the beauty shop Judith flung at Jane in direct challenge for stricter
attention. She was not going to escape if Judith Stearns knew it, and
she surmised the intention.
It had finally been told to tingling ears that the poisoned beauty shop,
as Winifred Ayres, the writer, had already dubbed the place, was done
in wonderful mirrors, and shiny faucets, windy wizzing hair fans and

electric permanent wavers and curlers; and when the full description
had been given, more girls than one sighed, groaned and grumbled.
"To think it has to be taboo," spoke Ted Guthrie. "Dol was always a
wizard, and now thus equipped she might have a lovely way of fanning
me thin."
"And fattening me nice and fluffy with the same fan," sighed Winifred.
"My freckles might float away like powder from the butterfly's wings,"
with a weird fluttering of Dozia's long arms.
"But hair!" exclaimed Judith. "Think of turning me into a golden
blonde with eyes like blue-bells under dewiness----"
"It cannot be! It cannot be!" moaned Dozia. "Instead we must raid the
place and banish the traitor. How about that for stunt night with the
sophs?"
"Wonderful!" sang out Juliette De Puy. She had listened and waited
with a certain reserve for which this capable Juliette was famous, but
now that the story was told she deigned to add that one word
"wonderful." Everyone looked at her suddenly.
"And have you tell the sophs," blurted out Nettie Brocton. "Dozia
Dalton you have spoiled it all. Didn't you see we had company?"
"Never noticed the lovely Juliette. Never mind Julie, you may tell