Vaseline! Skippy seized upon the idea in desperation. But to his horror, once the part was achieved, the slippery and sticky effect of the flattened hair was horrifying. "Where in Moses is that Irishman!" he cried, slamming open the door. "Face powder will take the shine off," said Snorky, after an immersion of the head in the washbasin had aggravated the catastrophe. "My Lord, I've got to do something," said Skippy, almost in tears. Snorky came to his rescue and between a vigorous rubbing with a bath towel and a liberal sprinkling of talcum powder, an effect was finally produced which at least was not shiny. Skippy, who had been glancing at his watch every three minutes, ended his toilette in a whirl. "How much money have you got?" Snorky produced three quarters. "I'll send it back to you if I don't return." A light burst over Snorky, confirming his worst suspicions. "Skippy," he said, seizing his arm, "you're running away! You're going on the stage!" He had not thought of this, but he appropriated the suggestion at once by avoiding a denial. "Snorky, old pal," he said solemnly, "stand by me now. When it's all over I'll write you." "But, good Lord, Skippy--" "Don't try to stop me. My mind's made up." "But I say--" "I've given my _word_," said Skippy tragically. "If I'm not back by eight o'clock to-morrow morning, mail this letter to my mother and give this to the Doctor. Good-bye. God bless you--and I'll pay you back the first money I earn." CHAPTER XX THE HEART OF A BRUNETTE HE recovered the shoebrush from under the window of Tabby, the young assistant house-master, and tucking it into his pocket, skirted the outer limits of the school, dodged behind a fence, and creeping on all-fours, made a wide detour via the pond and rejoined the high road to Trenton which lay five dusty miles away. Luckily the evening was overclouded and the shadows protecting. His problem was not simply to arrive at the Lafontaines' at exactly the hour but to arrive there with a cool and dignified appearance. It was hot, and the derby hat pressed down on the vaselined hair was hotter than anything about him, hotter even than the parched fields and the steaming asphalt which yielded to his feet.