"I should certainly try it, if I were you," recommended the latter.
"It says it's quite harmless," continued Stephanie, referring to the letter, "and should be used immediately after breakfast. Well, there's no time like the present!"
If there was a curious agitation on the other side of the partition, neither girl noticed it. Stephanie poured some of the liquid into her hand and rubbed it over her face. Then she turned to the looking-glass.
"It seems very pink and queer! It's all in red streaks!"
"Perhaps you've put on too much. Wipe some of it off," advised Beth.
Vigorous measures with a sponge followed, and Stephanie anxiously surveyed the result.
"It won't come off!" she faltered. "Oh, what have I done to myself? I'm all red smears!"
Her dismay was too much for one at least on the other side of the partition. Rona broke into a loud, cackling laugh. One swift glance upwards and Stephanie realized that she was the victim of a practical joke. It took her exactly three seconds to reach the next cubicle.
"So it's you, is it?" she exploded. "Well, Ulyth Stanton, I am astonished! Evil communications corrupt good manners, and yours smack of the backwoods."
"Don't throw it on Ulyth; she knew nothing about it," retorted the chuckling Cuckoo belligerently. "It's my business, and I don't mind telling you so!"