"Rumley has been checking up the appointment lists, all morning," a short, fat girl with henna-auburn hair piled high on her head reported cheerfully. "Of course, you could never get a word out of _her_--but I know what she is up to. The girls that have the most steady patrons will stay, of course. I'm certainly glad I kidded that old widow into thinking she's puhfectly stunning with her hair hennaed. She don't trust anybody but me to touch it up. And she's good for a scalp and facial and manicure every week of her life, besides getting her hair dressed every Saturday anyway, and sometimes oftener when she's going out. And she _always_ has a marcelle after a shampoo. She'd quit coming if I left--she told me so last week. She thinks I'm _there_ on massages. And then I've got sevrul others that ask for me regular as they come in. You know that big, fat--" "Miss Rose forward," the foreman's crisp, businesslike voice interrupted. Miss Rose began nervously pulling her corn-colored hair into the latest plastered effect on her temples. "This isn't any appointment. I wonder if somebody asked for me, or if Rumley--" "Well, kid her along, whoever she is, and talk a lot about her good points. You never can tell when some old girl is going to pull a lot of patronage your way," the fat girl advised practically. "Tell 'em your name and suggest that they call for you next time. You've got to get wise to the trick of holding what you get. Beat it, kiddo--being slow won't help you none with Rumley, and she's got the axe, remember." Thus adjured, Miss Rose beat it, arriving rather breathlessly at her chair, which was occupied by a rather sprightly looking woman with pretty hands and a square jaw and hair just beginning to gray over the temples. She had her hat off and was regarding herself seriously in the mirror, wondering whether she should touch up the gray, as some of her intimate friends advised, or let it alone as her brother Fred insisted. Miss Rose was too busy counting customers to notice who was in her chair until she had come close. "Why, hello, Kate," she said then. "I was just wondering what had become of you." "Oh, I've been so busy, Marion. I just had to _steal_ the time today to come. You weren't out to my reading last night, and I was afraid you might not be well. Do you think that I ought to touch up my hair, Marion? Of course, I don't mind it turning, so much--but you know appearance counts _everything_ with an audience until one begins to speak. Fred says to leave it alone--"