ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

Otago Witness, Issue 3443, 9 March 1920, Page 56

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

?*T WISH," said 1 Helen, as Bhe gave her *, hair a, final pat, "that I could get hold of a. really decent costume for to-morrow night. This Jazz affair is getting dreadfully tired. / And every other girl in the room is wearing its twin lister." A pretty rose-and-grey Pierette who was adjusting her right'shoe nodded reflectively. "M'm," she said, "But it is no good worrying. It's a bore not being a plutocrat . .-. I say Helen . .- . just look there!" The two girls gazed fascinated at a woman who had just slipped off- her cloak. She wore a delicious eighteenth century costume of mauve satin 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 these old-fashioned things are enchanting . . . and original these days! Come along, Mabel . . . they're waiting for us." . . It was a very depressed Helen who changed her shoes in the dressing-room after the diance. Her costume was rumpled and torn, and a large stain was visible on the front. "I can't go to the 'Excelsior' in this tormorrow night," she confided to Mabel. "I'll have to tell Guy I've got a headache or something." ."Poor old girl," sympathised her friend. "I've only this ono fancy dress and I haven't a sou in the wide. Oh, I say, I was introduced to that lovely creature i. . . she's a Mrs Beauchamp. She's asked me to have tea at her flat tomorrow . . . here she is . . . I'll introduce you too." The following afternoon Helen and Mabel were having tea with Mrs Beauchamp. It w&3 a charming room, and though weather was warm, a small Wood fire burned clearly in the grate. Mrs Beauchamp's appearance by daylight had..given both girls something of a shock. Her frock was pretty, her complexion beautiful, but the lovely wig of the previous night had given place to her own hair, which was lank, dull, and straight. Though she seemed young there was already more than one grey streak in her locks. She looked almost plain. . ,}., 'l'm, so glad you liked my. frock," she Bmiled, in answer to a remark of Mabel's. . . ."' "But it always depresses me eo. I do wish I lived in the eighteenth century, or that wigs were the fashion now-a-days. , I can't camouflage my horrid hair anyway by daylight! Have another pake, Helen, they're real cream! Forgive my being frightfully rude, but could you >ell. me where you get your hair waved ?" Or is it natural ? Because I was admiring it all the' time at the dance.." Helen laughed. ,f Can't afford to patronise hairdressers," she answered, "and it isn't natural. No, I just use silmerine." She finished as if that explained everything. Mrs Beauchamp knitted her brows. -"Silmerine?" she inquired, 'Tin afraid I'm very ignorant. What is-it? Where do you get it? What do you do with it?" ."One at a time," laughed Helen. "It is a rather nice smelling colourless liquid. You can get it from ,any chemist's You just damp your hair with it, put in .slides where you want the wave . . . and, voila, ze curl 3 ..."

A FANCY DRESS FRIENDSHIP.

"But that's too wonderful," exclaimed Mrs Beauchamp. "Do you have to use it every day" x "Oh, no . . . the effects last for some 'days. And the queer thing is that the more you use silmerine 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, "I would rush out this minute and buy a bottle before I have another sandwich. But my grey locks would look too ridiculous in waves. Shall I buy a bottle of peroxide or Condy's fluid and turn my tew 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. tSo I got a packet of tammalite and dissolved it- in bay rum, and put it on the faded parts with a clean little brush. It was wonderful the way that it gradually brought back the colour to my hair." "How lovely," exclaimed their hostecs. "Yes, I really must try that. Tammalite, you said, didn't you? By the way, a lot of people I know are using boranium as a hair tonic, but so far I haven't tried it. Do either of you know if it's any good?" "Any good ?" chorussed the two girls. . . . "Why, it.'s the only thing ft - "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 tammalite. What do you shampoo with?" she asked, "you've both got such glorious hair." This time Mabel answered . . . "Oh, the usual . . . Stallax, you know." "Stallax? I don't seem to know it. Is it some special preparation?" "I don't thanks so," replied Mabel. "It is quite ordinary stuff, I believe. You can buy it in \\b tins from most chemists. But it makes the most lovely shampoo; it lathers gorgeously in any water and your hair dries quickly after it and looks so soft and bright. My own , hair always gets so dry and brittle after" a shampoo of any kind that I always massage my scalp with olive oil before washing it." 'That's awfully nice to know," said Mrs Beauchamp . . "really, I'm most intensely grateful to you two girls. I've been envying your hair." "And we've been envying your comflexion," said Helen . . . "I do wish had nice pink cheeks like yours, and I don't like the idea of rouge.' "Powdered colliandum," 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 foT the 'Excelsior' dance to-night? You wouldn't care to borrow my rig -out, I suppose? It's just your size, and I know it would suit you." 'Mrs Beauchamp," 3aid Helen, "you're one of the best.