r Eau de Venus at least a trial,

"We remain,

"Faithfully yours,

"RENAN, MARIETTE, ET CIE,
Parfumeurs."

"How very peculiar!" gasped Beth, much impressed.

"It must be because they saw my photo in the papers," said Stephanie.
She was trying to speak casually, and not to appear too flattered, but
her eyes shone. "I believe that pageant made rather a sensation, and of
course, well, I was the principal figure in it. I suppose I shall have
to try this Eau de Venus."

"It's in a funny little bottle," commented Beth.

"Samples generally are. They never send you very much of a thing. They
want you to buy a big bottle afterwards."

Stephanie carefully removed the cork. The preparation seemed to be of a
pink, milky description.

"It smells of violets," she said, offering the bottle for Beth to sniff.

"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!"

"I might have known, you--you utter cad! You don't deserve to be in a
school among ladies!"

"Go on. Pitch it as strong as you like. The cub's quits with you now for
all your airs and your nastiness."

"Oh, don't!" protested Ulyth, interfering in much distress. "Ron