“Why never again?  There are other vacations.”

“But no more Jacks like Sanzie.  He is unique and has opened a law office by now.  Can’t you see his stenographer kicking his shapely shins as he dictates?  They always do that in the movies, and Sanzie is so up to date, even as to shins.  Now, Janie dear, let’s along.  En route you may tell me about the bomb threat.  The corridors are clear.”

“She simply wants a chance to talk to me, that’s all——­”

“But she can’t have it,” declared Judith.  “As your counsel I forbid it.  Just give that girl a chance and she will bind you over, body and soul; refined blackmail, you know.  Don’t you dare answer that note until I dictate the reply,” Judith swung her arm around Jane’s waist in the most all-embracing manner.  “Please, Dinksy,” she almost whispered, “wait until we are free this afternoon.”

Thus they separated; Judith for her tennis and Jane for a turn on Bowling Green.

But Jane had a deeper problem to solve than even her chum suspected.  There was the broken mirror in Dozia’s room and the fact that Dozia had actually hit Shirley on the head with a hammer!

“A pretty record that—­and made on the first night in college,” Jane reflected.

Undoubtedly the freshman’s demand that Jane “see her at once” had to do with the outrage.  And the interview would be granted, of course, that very afternoon unless Judith interfered.

Incidentally Judith was turning the situation over in her own good-natured mind.

“I would just like to see that gawk get Jane wound up in her miseries,” she told herself, while Janet Clarke hunted for stray tennis balls in the hedge.  “Jane is such a dear with sympathy that this girl’s very crimes would appeal to her—­in compassion.  No-sir-ree!” She volleyed a vicious ball—­“Jane will not see the impossible Shirley alone just yet.”

Meanwhile news of Dolorez Vincez’s Beauty Shop had spread over the college like a holiday notice.  Dolorez was the South American girl who had been expelled from Wellington the previous year because of irregularities in many things but particularly in basket ball games.  As told in the book, “Jane Allen:  Center,” this young lady was really a teacher of athletics, and had been posing as an amateur.  Being forced to leave college after opening a prohibited beauty shop she vowed vengeance, and many of the students now felt the Beauty Parlor, opened at the very gates of Wellington and widely advertised, was about to assume the dangers of a golden spider web.

The girls were fairly quivering with excitement, when Dozia Dalton, herald of the sensation, condescended to tell everybody all she knew about the whole thing.

Velma Sigsbee would insist upon interrupting with silly questions, such as the price of a bob or the possible pain of operating for double dimples, but eventually Dozia told the story while Ted Guthrie held Velma’s hand in a compelling grip.  It was over on the long low bench by the ball field where practice should have been kicking up a dust.  But Dol’s Beauty Parlor outrage was too delectable to forego even for a final ball game,