"Hush! It's only to-night. This is the last time. Don't make a scene!" pleaded Ruth.
"I'll never get over it," wailed Helen. "It simply is the most detestable thing I ever knew. In our own house too! If this weren't the last time I—"
What she would do was never discovered for just at that moment a shrill scream ran through the night, followed by the exclamation in a familiar voice:
"Great Scott! My wig!"
And Ruth and Helen rushed below to find Miss Webster in a state of collapse on one of the veranda settees and Nan standing over her, clad in complete male attire, and fanning her frantically with a curly, blonde wig which she wrenched by force from the trellis where it had inadvertently caught.
"I was just leaning back and being beautiful, and it got hooked on a wire or something, and when I went to get up it stayed there and gave me away!" she promptly explained.
Then there was a scene.
Miss Webster wept! Nan lamented! Ruth laughed, and Helen scolded, and no one heard a word any one else was saying.
But after a time every one grew calmer.
"O Helen! I've made such a fool of myself," cried Alice abjectly. "How can you ever respect me again?"