"I know," interrupted Bee. "It should be fair to go with it. Can you help me about it?"
"No; I only do the hair. I don't know of any here who does treat the skin. It's a small place, you know."
"Yes;" assented Bee. Silently she watched the deft movements of the woman as she applied the bleach. It was done finally, and Bee found herself the possessor of locks as yellow as her cousin's. She eyed the result doubtfully.
"I like my own best," was her mental comment. "But if it pleases father I don't mind."
"You understand," said Miss Harris as the girl prepared to depart, "the application will have to be renewed as the hair grows. Otherwise it would be dark at the roots while the ends would be yellow."
"Will it?" asked Bee in dismay. "I thought that this was all there was to it."
"No. It takes time and patience to attain gold even in the hair." Miss Harris laughed at her little joke. "Whenever it needs touching up, come in and we'll soon fix you up."
"Thank you," said Beatrice as she left.
"It's going to take every cent of this month's allowance," she mused as she stopped at a milliner's and ordered a white chip hat with purple pansies for trimming sent home, "but it costs to be a beauty. One must dress for it, Adele always says. I always liked her best when she wore great big purple pansies on her hat. Now for the jimpson."
Jimpson weeds abounded by the roadside. Bee filled the bottom of the buggy with them, and then drove home. Ignoring Joel's surprised looks the girl reached the house without meeting any one else, and went directly to her room.