“She knows how to get contracts from publishers. Getting advertising accounts isn’t easy, either,” Florence continued. “I’m afraid a good many people share Irene’s feelings about commercials and with reason. You should hear those ad men when they’re in conference.”
“I’ve read about them,” declared Judy. “Is it true that advertising agencies employ psychologists to probe into people’s minds and find out how to make them buy certain products?”
“Of course it’s true.” Pauline, the daughter of a psychiatrist, was indignant about it and said so.
“I don’t see any harm in that,” Flo said defensively. “They push the items they’re paid to put across. Take the golden hair wash people, for instance. It was pure inspiration when they thought of Irene to sponsor their product. Golden Girl—golden hair wash! Can’t you just see it on the TV screen? Their hair wash will sell like crazy—”
“And every girl will be a golden girl. I just can’t agree to it,” Irene interrupted. “I’d have to say I use the stuff when I don’t. My hair is naturally this color.”
“Mine is naturally this color, too. So help me!” put in Judy. “I dyed it once to disguise myself, but never again! Anyway, Peter likes redheads.”
Pauline, a blue-eyed, black-haired beauty, seemed to be studying the others at the table. Each girl had her own distinctive coloring. Irene, with her naturally golden blond hair, wore it in a short bob. “To keep little Judy from pulling it when we romp,” she said.
Judy wore her curly auburn hair in a long bob, while Florence Garner had her brown hair pinned high on her head. It, too, was curly and would have hung in ringlets if she had let it loose.
A fifth chair at the table was vacant. But Judy, suddenly a little homesick, could imagine Peter’s sister sitting there to complete the picture.
“Honey’s hair is darker than yours, Irene,” she spoke up unexpectedly. “I call it honey colored. I hope she never uses that golden hair wash to change it. Honey simply wouldn’t be Honey without her lovely honey-colored hair.”