All's Well that Ends Well.

Auckland Star, Volume LI, Issue 104, 1 May 1920, Page 21

All's Well that Ends Well.

"I wish," said Helen, as she gave her iair a final pat, "that I codld get hold of a really decent costume for to-mor-row night. This Jazz affair is getting dreadfully tired. And every other girl in the room is wearing its twin sister.' A pretty rose-and-grey Pierrette who waa adjusting her right shoe nodded Reflectively. v, "Mm," she said. "But it is no good worrying. It's a bore not being a pluto-' ttat. ... I say, Helen . ... just look fieri"!" The two girls gazed fascinated at a woman who had just slipped off her cloak. She wore a delicious eighteenth century costume of mauve 6atin over a sprigged petticoat. A white powdered wig set off her softly glowing face and a patch was perched naughtily in one "dimple. "Isn't she exquisite?" whispered Helen. "I think those old-fashioned things are enchanting . . - and- original those days! Come along, Mabel . . . they're waiting for us." ■It was a very depressed Helen who changed her shoes in the dressing-room ifter the dance. Her costume was _ii__pled and torn, and a large stain was .visible on the front. I "I can't go to the 'Excelsior' in this to-morrow night," she confided to Mabel, •ill have to tell Guy Pve got a headache j_r something." "Poor old girl," sympathised her frier/d. "I've only this one fancy dress (hid I haven't a sou in the wide, ffh, 1 iijj I was introduced TO that lovely Creature . . . 6he's a Mrs. Beauchamp. |Bhey asked mc to have tea at her flat to-morrow . . . here she is . . . I'll introduce you too." The following afternoon Helen and ! Mabel were having tea with" Mrs. Beau- | champ. It was a charming room, and though the weather was warm, a small i wood fire burned clearly in the grate. Sire. Beauchamp's appearance 'by day- j light had given both girls something of a •hock. Her frock was pretty, her com- I plexion beautiful, but the lovely wig of j the previous night had given place to her i own hair, which was lank, dull, and j •traight. Though she seemed young - there was already more than one grey •freak in her locks. She looked almost I plain. "I'm so glad you liked my frock." she j •tailed, in answer to a remark of Mabel's. ■-. "But it always depresses mc so. 1 do wish I lived in the eighteenth century, W that wigs were the fashion nowadays. I oan't camouflage my horrid hair any*>y by daylight! Have another oake, Helen, they're real cream! Forgive my | king frightfully rude, but could you tell j *M where you get your hair waved ? Or I J* it natural? Because I was admiring I « all the time at the dance." Helen laughed. Can't afford to patronise hair- j •ressers," sho answered, "and it isn't Mural. Xo, I just use sihherine." She fished as if that explained everything. «is. Beauchamp knitted her brows. Silmerine?" she inquired. "I'm afraid J* fery ignorant. What is it? Where get it? What do you-do with it?" . One at a time," laughed Helen. "It is j ' father nice-smelling colourless liquid, i Job can get it from any chemist's. You M damp your hair with it, put in slides ! "•here you want tho wave . . . and, voila, ] •tola .. ,*» . 1

A FANCY DRESS FRIENDSHIP.

"But that's too wonderful," exclaimed Mrs. Beauchamp. "Do you have to use it every day?" "Oh, no . . . last for some days. And the queer thing is that the more you use silraerine the less often you require it. It seems to -coax the hair into natural waves that stay in of their own accord." "If my hair weren't so odiously thin and streaky," said Mrs. Beauchamp, "1 would rush* out this minute and buy- a bottle before I have another sandwich* But mji grey locks would look too ridiculous in waves. Shall I buy a bottle of peroxide or Condy's fluid and turn my few remaining hairs a bright gold or red?" "Mrs. Beauchamp," put in Helen, "I'm going to reveal a horrid secret. A little while ago I found some grey hairs on my own head. Mabel's fair; she won't go grey so soon. So I got a packet of tammalite and dissolved it in bay rum, and put it on the faded parts with • clean little brush. It was wonderful tho way that it gradually brought back ths colour to my hair." "How lovely," exclaimed their hostess. "Ye"s, I really must try that. Tammalite, you said," didn't you? By the way, a lot ot people I know ar§ using boranium as a hnir tonic, 'but so far I haven't tried it. Do cither of you know if it's any good?" "Any gooi?" chorused the two girls. . . . "Why, it's the* only thing. . . ." "I mix it with bay rum " "You can use eau-de-cologne, I believe " "It's the most priceless stuff " "My hair's grown heaps thicker since | I used it." '■' "Good gracious," interposed Mrs. | Beauchamp. ... "I suppose I shall have :to use it too. I'll put it down with the j tammalite. What do you shampoo with?*' | she asked, "you've both got such glorious | hair." I This time Mabel answered . . . "Oh, the ■ usual . . . StaUax, you know." ! , "Stallax? I don't seem to know it. Ia I it some special preparation?" ! "I don't think so,'* replied Mabel. "It is quite ordinary stuff, I believe. You ; can buy it in .lb tins from most chemists. '■■ But jt'makes the most lovely shampoo; I it lathers gorgeously in any water, and I your hair dries quickly after it and looks jso soft and bright. My own hair always i gets to dry and brittle after a shampoo I of any kind that I always massage my J scalp with olive oil before washing it." I "That's awfully nice to know," said I Mrs. Beauchamp . . - "Really, I'm most i intensely grateful to you two girls. I've I been envying your hair." ! "And we've been envying your complexion," said Helen. ... "I do wish I j had nice pink cheeks like yours, and I I don't like the idea of rouge." "l'otcdcrcd collia-ndum," said. Mrs. Beauchamp. in a dramatic whisper . . . "just a trifle . . . harmless . . . indetectable . . . any chemists . . . used it for years. By the way. Helen, didn't you say something about wanting a fancy dress for the 'Excelsior' dance to-night? i You wouldn't care to borrow my rig-out, I suppose? It's just your size, and 1 ] know it would suit you." j "Mrs. Beauchamp," said Helen, "jrou're I one of the berf." *