Then they woke up!

"It's a runaway!" cried Mr. Cushman, who had charge of the football coaching, to be echoed by the tall quarter back in football togs, as both broke away in pursuit, the whole field quickly taking the alarm also. But that tennis court held one individual whose wits worked as quickly as the star performer's, and there and then shrilled across it a high-pitched, peculiar whistle which they both knew mighty well, and the four-legged one obeyed instanter by wheeling so suddenly that he put a very realistic climax upon the scene by nearly unseating the two-legged one, as he tore pell mell for the whistler and came to a sudden halt in front of him, to the increased astonishment of the general audience.

"Gee whiz, Bev! What's let loose?" cried Athol, trying to respond to Apache's nozzling, whinnying demonstrations of delight and reach his sister's extended hands at the same time, while Archie did his record-breaking sprint across the gridiron, and the whole field came boiling toward them.

"I have. Don't you see I've been run away with? It's lucky Apache turned in here," answered Beverly, with remarkable calmness for one so lately escaped from disaster or sudden death, as she brushed back her flying locks, for—well—reasons.

"Run away nothing! You run away with! Piffle. Ah, cut it out Apache! I know you're ready to throw a fit at seeing me, but keep bottled up for a minute, won't you?" he ended as Apache lay hold of his tennis shirt and tried to jerk him into attention. But he gave the bony little head a good-natured mauling nevertheless, as Archie rushing up exclaimed:

"You're a winner, Bev!" Then the others surrounded them, the two coaches really concerned lest the young lady had suffered some mishap, and Mr. Cushman brushing the boys aside as he asked:

"Are you faint? Can we be of any assistance?" and Mr. Ford, the new instructor from Yale and mighty good to look upon (so decided Beverly in the space of one glance) pressed to her side to ask: "Were you riding alone when your mount bolted?"

Before Beverly could draw breath to reply the answer came from another quarter.

Now there is no such accomplished actor, (or liar) upon the face of the round world as your genuine darkey. Indeed he can do both so perfectly that he actually lives in the characters he temporarily creates and believes his own prevarications, and that, it must be admitted, is some achievement.

When Beverly departed so suddenly upon her self-elected route, Jefferson naturally had but a very hazy idea of her intentions. He knew Kilton Hall lay over five miles straight ahead, and he knew, also that Beverly's brother was at school there, but Jefferson did not possess an analytical mind: It could not out-run Apache. He knew, however, that he must put up a pretty good bluff if he wished to save his kinky scalp upon his return to Leslie Manor, so he set about planning to "hand out dat fool 'oman a corker." Moreover, Petty was inclined to take the situation seriously. Petty was sweetly romantic, but stupidly literal. At times a hopeless combination. The riding party had cantered along in the fleeing Beverly's wake for a little more than a mile when Petty spied the hat upon the bush. Nothing further was needed to confirm her misgivings.

"She has been run away with, girls! She has! I think it's perfectly awful not to ride faster. She may be lying on the road d-e-a-d-!"

By this time Jefferson thought it might be politic to manifest more concern, so throwing a well-assimilated anxiety into voice and manner he said hastily:

"Now you fo' yo'ng ladies jist come 'long careful an' orderly, so's not ter bring no mo' trebbulations, 'pon us an' I'll light out fer dat run-way. Ma Lawd, I'se been clar distracted fer de las' ten minutes fer ter know which-a-way ter tu'n! I aint really believe Miss Bev'ly is in no danger 'twell Miss Petty done got me so sympathizin', but now I'se shore rattled an' I'se gwin' ter find out fer sartin. Come on yo' Jumbo! Wo'k yo' laigs fer fair," and under touch of the spur the big horse broke into a gait which bade fair to speedily overhand the scapegraces, providing Jefferson let him do so.

A turn in the road simplified the problem.

"Now don' yo' tak ter sweatin' yo'self so's I has ter spend a hull hour a-coolin' yo' down," admonished Jefferson when well out of sight. "We'll git there, an' when we does we'll mak' one fair show down," and thereupon Jefferson restrained his steed to a long swinging run which told off the miles without making him turn a hair until Kilton Hall was in sight. Then the dusky actor and his mount prepared to make their spectacular entre. Pulling up at the roadside Jefferson threw his cap upon the ground, twisted his tie awry, and let fly the belt of his riding blouse, then dismounting, he caught up a few handfuls of dust and promptly transformed big bay Jumbo into as disreputable looking a horse as dust rubbed upon his muzzle, his chest and his warm moist flanks could transform him. It was this likely pair which came pounding across the athletic field of Kilton Hall at the moment of Mr. Ford's question, the human of the species, with eyes rolling until they were nearly all whites, shouting as he drew near:

"My Lawd-a-mighty, Miss Bev'ly, is yo' hu't? Is yo' daid?"

It was a good enough bit of acting to have won the actor fame and fortune. As a matter of fact, Beverly gave one glance at the fly-away figure, then clasping both arms around Apache's neck, buried her face in his mane and to all intents and purposes collapsed into a paroxysm of tears, to the entire dismay of Mr. Cushman, and the skeptical "sizing up" of the situation by Mr. Ford, more lately from the campus. It was Athol who promptly turned a few handsprings behind their backs and Archie who rolled over upon the grass chortling.

"Don't be alarmed! Don't be alarmed, my good man. Your young lady is none the worse for her involuntary run (just here a distinct snort came from the ground behind Mr. Cushman) though I dare say a little unstrung and exhausted. But we stopped her mount ("yes you did!" came sotto voce from Athol) and now we will lead your mistress back to the house where Mrs. Kilton will be delighted to minister to her comfort. Are you too nervous to ride to the rear entrance, Miss Ashby?" for during the few words spoken Mr. Cushman had discovered that this was Athol Ashby's sister, had the resemblance left any doubt of that fact.

Beverly resumed an upright position, hastily wiped away her tears, (one can laugh as well as weep them) and answered:

"Oh, no sir. Of course I was a little startled at first, but Apache is never vicious, and it was only the need of exercise which made us—him—bolt, you know."

The acrobat came to an upright position and very nearly upset the whole show.

Meantime Jefferson with many flutterings and gesticulations, had dismounted and managed to work his way to Archie's side and whisper:

"Don't yo' let on, will yo' suh?"

"Not on your sweet life. It's the best ever. But where's the rest of the bunch? There must be some. You always take out a full fledged seminary."

"Praise Gawd der aint but fo' dis time, an' dey's yander on de pike some—'ers. But I'se near scared blue."

"Gray, you mean. Keep cool. I'll fix it all right. Oh, Mr. Cushman the groom had to leave the other young ladies back yonder on the road and he's a good bit upset about it. Hadn't he better ride back to them? They'll be scared blue you know."

"Certainly. Certainly. By all means. Return to them at once. This young lady will be carefully looked after," and Jefferson lost no time in going.

"You'd better bring the whole outfit—I—er—I mean you'd better bring the other young ladies to the Hall," called Mr. Ford, deciding that if Beverly was a sample of the Leslie Manor girls it would be just as well to see more of the material. Had he caught the sudden flash in Archie's eyes perhaps he would have grown a bit wiser.

Twenty minutes later all five girls were seated in Mrs. Kilton's cozy living room, the boys, and the instructors who had shifted into drawing-room garments in record time, serving hot chocolate and little iced cakes.

As they were not expected home until five anyway there was no cause for concern. There would be no alarm at Leslie Manor. Meanwhile Jefferson, who had looked after the horses, was holding the floor in the servant's quarters. If a report of that afternoon's experiences did reach Leslie Manor he meant to have first scoop.

After an hour spent very delightfully, for Mr. Ford was attention itself to Beverly, to Archie's ill-concealed disgust, Hope MacLeod advised a move toward home. As they were about to start Beverly asked sweetly:

"Oh, dear Mrs. Kilton, would you mind if Athol showed me his room? You know we have never before in all our lives been separated and I get so homesick for him and his traps it just seems as though I couldn't stand it."

"Why of course you may go up, my dear," smiled kindly Mrs. Kilton. She was too wholesome to see the least impropriety in so simple a request.

"Oh, hold on a second, Ath. Keep her a minute until I rush up and stow a few of our duds. We didn't stop to slick things up when we shifted," and Archie bounded away.

"Come on now, Bev. I reckon he's had time to make Number 70 presentable," said Athol three minutes later, and the brother and sister went demurely from the room.



CHAPTER IX

WHILE GOBLINS DANCED

Although in little sympathy with frivolous forms of entertainment, Miss Woodhull did condescend to a Hallowe'en Masquerade each year, and two nights after Beverly's John Gilpin performance the girls were preparing for the dance in the big gymnasium.

A collection had been taken up among the sixty girls constituting the academic grades and a couple of musicians engaged for the occasion. They came from an adjacent town where they formed part of a colored orchestra of more than local fame, which was in great demand for miles around. Consequently, the girls would have good music for their frolic and as Mrs. Bonnell looked to the refreshments, everything was satisfactory excepting Miss Woodhull's veto upon "the absurd practices of Hallowe'en:" meaning the love tests of fate and fortune usually made that night. Those were debarred, though many a one was indulged in in secret of which that practical lady little kenned.

As a hostess and chaperone were deemed absolutely indispensable upon any occasion, however informal, Mrs. Bonnell was always eagerly sought after by the girls to act in the former capacity and Miss Dalton the gym instructor in the latter. Miss Dalton seemed just like a girl herself, and was, in fact, not many years her pupils' senior. She was in her twenty-fourth year, but looked about nineteen, a jolly, chummy, lovable woman, though no instructor maintained better discipline, or was more willingly obeyed. She and Mrs. Bonnell worked in perfect harmony when their duties brought them together.

Now it is only reasonable to surmise that Beverly and the boys had made the very utmost of the fifteen minutes spent in Athol's room the previous Wednesday, and some lightening-like communications had been interchanged. On the way back to Leslie Manor, Beverly, Sally and Aileen had kept somewhat in the rear, Petty and Hope (by the latter's finesse) contriving to keep Jefferson between them. This had not been difficult because Jefferson simply had to have someone to talk to.

What the three in the rear discussed will be seen later. Those leading were needlessly trying to convince Jefferson of the folly of making any reference whatsoever to the unexpected route taken that afternoon.

Had they only known it, he was as anxious as they were to keep the affair from headquarters, his chief misgivings resting in the possibility of the report coming from Kilton Hall. As a matter of fact, it never occurred to either Dr. or Mrs. Kilton to report it. It was a mere incident which had ended rather pleasantly than otherwise, and, as a matter of fact, the relations between the two schools were not over cordial. Dr. and Mrs. Kilton had made very gracious overtures to Miss Woodhull when she first opened Leslie Manor, but desiring to keep distantly at arm's length all relations with a school that harbored boys, her response had been as frigid as her New England coast line in February. This was rather fortunate in the present case. Dr. and Mrs. Kilton not only requested the instructors not to give needless publicity to the affair, or anxiety to Miss Woodhull by permitting any report of the runaway to become circulated, but also warned the servants and forbade the boys discussing it abroad. And the boys were wise enough to put two and two together. So a discreet silence was maintained, and Miss Woodhull spared a nerve shock.

At seven-thirty o'clock on Hallowe'en, suite Number 10 buzzed like a bee-hive. The three occupants were dressing, two or three girls were assisting at the robing, and two or three more who were already costumed were acting as spectators.

Beverly was going as Tweedle-dum, her costume consisting of funny little ruffled trousers, a Lord Fauntleroy shirt, jacket and collar, her hair braided and tucked inside her waist and her head covered by a huge Glengarry bonnet. Tiny patent-leather pumps and little blue socks completed the funny makeup. She was as bonny a little lad as one could find, her name being plainly printed upon her big collar. Who would complete the pair by being Tweedle-dee no one had been able to coax from her. Her reply to all the girl's importunities being:

"Just wait and see if we don't match well."

Sally was to be Will-o'-the-Wisp, and a plump, spooky sprite she made with dabs of phosphorus upon her fluttering black cambric costume, and funny peaked cap, which glowed uncannily when the room was darkened. She carried a little electric bulb lantern which unexpectedly flashed its blinding rays into people's faces.

Aileen chose to be the evening star and very lovely she looked in her costume made of several silver-spangled scarfs draped over one of her dainty "nighties," which, of course, fell straight from her shoulders. Her hair was caught up with every rhinestone pin or buckle she owned or could borrow, and Mrs. Bonnell had supplied from the properties kept for private theatricals the glittering star she wore above her forehead.

Aileen moved a goddess and she looked a queen, for she was a very stately, lovely young girl.

At the stroke of eight all were ready and a general rush was made for the gym, the girls laughing, talking, jostling each other and in most hilarious mood, but, when they reached that gaily decorated room Tweedle-dum was not among them.

The gym presented a pretty picture that night lighted by pumpkin Jack o' Lanterns in which electric bulbs had been hidden, and by grotesque paper lanterns representing bats, owls and all sorts of flying nocturnal creatures. The side walls had been covered with gorgeous autumn foliage, palms and potted rubber plants stood all about, and last, but by no means least, there was a long table laden with goodies and more pumpkin decorations. The room was a fitting scene for goblin's revels.

A barn dance had just begun, when down through the gym pranced Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee, and so identical were the figures that no mortal being could have told one from the other had they chanced to become separated. But this they seemed to have no intention of doing. Together they went through the figures of the pretty fancy dance, prancing, twirling, advancing, retreating; arms clasped or held above each other's heads, feet twinkling in perfect time, heads nodding, eyes dancing through the peepers of their little black half-masks, lips smiling to reveal faultless teeth.

In two minutes everybody was asking:

"Who is it? Who are they? How can they look so exactly alike? We didn't know there were two girls in the school who matched so well, and who could do everything so exactly alike."

But neither Tweedle-dum nor Tweedle-dee enlightened the questioners. Indeed, neither spoke one word, signs having to answer to all queries.

Presently the musicians struck up a hornpipe, when away they went in the jolliest dance eyes ever looked upon, and would have absorbed all attention had not a new diversion been created just then.

During their prancing, Sally, in her Will-o'-the-Wisp costume, had been darting in and out between the tall potted plants and bowers constructed of Autumn leaves, her luminous tatters fluttering and her dancing light blinding every dancer into whose face she flashed it.

Just as Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee were in the height of their performance she darted from her bosky nook and flitted down the room, closely followed by a tall Jack o' Lantern with his pumpkin light. No one in the room was so tall. Who could it be? There was just one person in the school who might look as tall if so disguised and that was Miss Stetson, but even the liveliest imagination could hardly fancy Miss Stetson in that guise. Moreover, Miss Stetson could never have pranced with such supple grace as this dancing Jack was prancing after the Will-o'-the-Wisp. No, it could not be Miss Stetson.

Towering above the nimble little Will, Jack cavorted, swung his lantern and by signs indicated his desire to imitate Tweedle-dum's and Tweedle-dee's performances, to which Will promptly acceded and the quartette hornpipe was on.

Now it was Miss Woodhull's custom to grace all festive occasions by her presence just prior to the stroke of nine-thirty when refreshments were served. The revelers were to unmask before partaking of the feast. After the feast they were at liberty to dance until ten-thirty but not a moment later.

The fun was at its height, Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee had danced with every other goblin, the evening star included, though it must be confessed that Tweedle-dee had been unanimously pronounced the better leader by his partners, and Jack "almost as good as a boy; she was so strong and danced so divinely," though none had as yet guessed the identity of either. Then Miss Woodhull, escorted by Miss Baylis, entered the gym. Had it been possible to suddenly reduce the temperature of the room and thus congeal the dancers the effect produced could hardly have been more chilling.

From the merriest, most hilarious frolicing, the gayest, cheeriest bantering and laughter, to the utmost decorum was the transformation effected in two minutes after Miss Woodhull's and Miss Baylis' entrance. With the exception of Tweedle-dum, Tweedle-dee, Will-o'-the-Wisp and Jack o' Lantern, the girls ceased dancing and stood in groups and even the musicians played more softly.

There was not the vestige of a smile on Miss Woodhull's face as she looked upon the four dancers. She tolerated such frivolity; she was compelled to do so; her school would have been unpopular had she not done so; other schools approved of them.

Raising her lorgnettes, she looked sharply at the four dancing figures. Then turning to Mrs. Bonnell, who had crossed from the table to receive her, she asked:

"Who is that strikingly tall figure in the Jack o' Lantern costume. I did not know we had so tall a girl in the school."

"I am sure I do not know, Miss Woodhull. She came in after the dancing began. She sustains the character well, doesn't she?"

"I wish to know who she is. Send someone for her if you please," answered the principal, ignoring the question. She was a little doubtful of that tall girl. In times gone by some of her pupils had been guilty of indiscretions. If this were a repetition it must be nipped in the bud.

Mrs. Bonnell beckoned to one of the masqueraders, a jolly little Tam o' Shanta, and bade him bring Jack.

He nodded and instantly darted off in pursuit of him. As well have tried to capture the original of the character!

The mad chase lasted perhaps five minutes. Miss Woodhull was powerless. How could she accuse Jack of disrespect to her or disregard of her commands when he could not possibly have known them? He was only acting his part to perfection any way. Besides Tam never had caught the goblins: The shoe had been on the other foot. But at that second Jack tripped over a ring set in the floor of the gym and went sprawling, his pumpkin lantern flying out of his hand and breaking into a dozen fragments. Tam was almost upon him, but before he could lay hold Jack was up again, had made a spring, caught one of the flying rings which dangled high above his head, swung like a monkey from that to the next, and so on down the line until he was in range of the gallery, at which he hurled himself bodily, landed upon the railing, balanced a half-second and was safe upon the gallery floor, to the boundless amazement of the onlookers and absolute banishment of their suspicions regarding the identity of Miss Stetson. That spring settled his fate with Miss Woodhull: No girl in Leslie Manor could have performed such a feat, and all the dancers were staring speechless. It was the ominous silence before the storm.

"That masquerader is not a girl, Miss Bonnell! It is some boy! Who has perpetrated this outrage? Miss Baylis, order all the outer doors closed and guarded and a thorough search made. This matter shall be sifted to the very bottom. No, you will all remain in this room and immediately unmask under Mrs. Bonnell's eyes. I shall superintend the search," and Miss Woodhull sailed majestically from the room.



CHAPTER X

THE SEARCH

"We're in for it," whispered Tweedle-dee to Tweedle-dum, as the two comical figures drew unobtrusively into the rear of the group of girls now removing their masks under Mrs. Bonnell's half-amused, half-serious eyes, for she began to suspect that some sort of innocent prank had been played which, like many another would have harmlessly played itself out if let alone. She had always been opposed to the rigorous ban placed upon boys and their visits to Leslie Manor by Miss Woodhull, believing and justifiably too, that such arbitrary rules only led to a livelier desire in the girls to meet said boys by hook or by crook.

"Hush!" whispered Tweedle-dum "and come behind this rubber plant. Now get down on your hands and knees and follow me."

Tweedle-dee promptly obeyed orders and the next moment was in front of the spiral stairway which led to the gallery.

"Make yourself as small as possible and crawl on your stomach up this staircase. At the other end of the gallery is a door leading into our wing. I can't tell you another thing. Just use your wits," and Tweedle-dum flitted back to be swallowed up in the crowd of girls who, once more restored to an equable frame of mind were laughing merrily, everyone asking everyone else if she knew who the Jack o' Lantern really was. This very fact was sufficient reassurance for Mrs. Bonnell. She knew girls better than Miss Woodhull knew them in spite of having known nothing else for more than forty years, but she resolved then and there not to ask too many questions, which fact made two girls her slaves for life. The discipline department was not her province nor was it one which anything could have induced her to undertake. If Will-o'-the-Wisp was aware of the name of her partner in the quartette hornpipe, or Tweedle-dum knew Tweedle-dee's surname Miss Woodhull was the one to find it out, not she. So smiling upon the group before her she asked:

"Are you now all visible to the naked eye and all accounted for? If so, let us to the feast, for time is speeding." No urging was needed and lots were promptly drawn for the privilege of cutting the fate cake. Mrs. Bonnell had not considered it necessary to mention the fact that she had ordered Aunt Sally, the cook, to bake one for the occasion, and while good fellowship and hilarity reign below let us follow two less fortunate mortals whom the witches seemed to have marked for their sport that night.

Agreeable with Miss Woodhull's orders, Miss Baylis, who was only too delighted to shine so advantageously in her superior's eyes, had scuttled away, issuing as she went, the order to close all outer doors and guard them, allowing no one to pass through. Guileless souls both hers and Miss Woodhull's, though another adjective might possibly be more apt. The house had a few windows as well as doors.

Meeting Miss Stetson on the stairs she found in her a militant coadjutor, and wireless could not have flashed the orders more quickly. Servants went a-running until one might have suspected the presence of a criminal in Leslie Manor rather than a mere boy.

Meanwhile, what of Jack o' Lantern and Tweedle-dee? Jack, it must be admitted, had the greater advantage in having made a quicker get-away, but Leslie Manor had many bewildering turns and corners, and when one has been an inmate of a house less than—well, we won't specify the length of time—one cannot be blamed for growing confused. Jack had made for the very door Tweedle-dum had advised Tweedle-dee to make for and darted through it muttering as he paused a second to listen: "Gee, I wish I wasn't so confoundedly long legged!"

No sound coming to his ears from any of the rooms opening upon the corridor into which he had darted, he sprinted down its length until it terminated suddenly in a flight of stairs leading to the lower hall. He had descended about half way when a babel of voices sent him scuttling back again, and a moment later a voice commanded.

"Wesley, hurry up to the south wing. Whoever is in the house certainly tried to make an escape from that quarter."

"Yas'm. I catches 'em ef dey 're up dar," blustered Wesley Watts Mather, hurrying up the stairs and almost whistling to keep his courage up, for your true darkie finds All Saint's Night an awesome one, and not to be regarded lightly. Moreover, nearly all the electric lights were turned off, only those necessary to light the halls being left on, and this fact made the rooms seem the darker.

Now Jack o' Lantern's costume, like Will-o'-the-Wisp's, had been liberally daubed with phosphorus and he still grasped the electric flash-light which had illuminated his shattered pumpkin. There was no time to stand upon ceremony for Wesley was almost at the top of the stairs. A door stood open at hand and he darted through it into the room, overturning a chair in the darkness.

"Hi, you! I done got you!" shouted his dusky pursuer and burst into the room in hot chase. The next instant the exaltant shout changed to a howl of terror, for in the middle of that room stood a towering motionless figure from which radiated sheets of lightning, one blinding flash darting straight into the terrified darkie's eyes. "A flash ob lightenin' what cl'ar par'lyzed me an' helt ma feet fast to de floo'! Den, befo' I could get 'em loosen' dat hant jist lif' his hoof—yas ma'am, dat was a hoof, not no man's foot—an' I 'clar cross ma heart he done hist me froo dat do' an' cl'ar down dem stairs. He want no man. He de debbil hissef. No siree, yo' ain' gettin' me back up dem stairs twell some white folks gwine fust. Not me. I knows when ter lie low, I does." (Goal kicking develops a fellow's muscles.)

Nor could any amount of urging or scolding prevail, and Miss Stetson, the strong-minded, was obliged to go up to investigate. But though every room was searched there was no sign of mortal being. All the window sashes in Leslie Manor had been rehung in the most approved modern methods and could be raised and lowered without a sound. A porch roof and a slender column are quite as available as flying rings to a born acrobat.

As she was returning from her fruitless search she encountered Miss Woodhull.

"Well?" queried that lady.

"It is not well. If there really was any one in that wing, which I am compelled to doubt, he has made a most amazing escape."

"Doubt?" repeated Miss Woodhull with no little asperity. "You will hardly doubt the evidence of my own eyesight, will you Miss Stetson? I saw that person cross the gallery and enter the south wing. Be good enough to go down to the gymnasium and call the roll. I desire to know if all the girls are accounted for."

To judge by Miss Stetson's expression she was none too well pleased by the principal's tone. Nevertheless, she repaired to the gym and ignoring Mrs. Bonnell's assurance that no girls were missing proceeded to call the roll. Of course all responded.

Meanwhile, Miss Woodhull had summoned Jefferson, who if no less superstitious, was backed up by her august presence, and together they mounted the stairs and made a room-to-room inspection, peering into every closet or any possible hiding place. Not a sign of human being was found until they came to the study of Suite 10, then a faint sound was audible in bedroom A beyond.

Quicker than it would seem possible for a person of her proportions to move, Miss Woodhull entered the study, reached the electric switch and turned on the lights, calling at the same moment:

"Who is in that room?"

There was no reply, and the irate lady, speedily covering the distance between the electric switch and the bedroom door, turned on the light in that room also.

There stood Tweedle-dee.

He had removed his mask and was about to don a long gray automobile coat.

"What are you doing here, Beverly, when I gave explicit orders that no one should leave the gymnasium?" demanded Miss Woodhull, frowning portentously upon the delinquent.

"My costume is so thin I was cold. I came up after my coat, Miss Woodhull," was the smiling answer, spoken quite softly enough to turn away wrath.

"You came in direct disobedience to my orders? You may now remain here for the rest of the evening."

"Oh please, Miss Woodhull, let me go back. They are to have a reel," begged her victim.

"No, I have spoken. You will remain in your room."

Without more ado the defrauded one hurled herself into the middle of the bed, buried her head in the immaculate pillows and burst into a paroxysm of sobs.

"You have brought this upon yourself. Had you obeyed me there would have been no occasion for this punishment."

"I was freezing! I just won't stay stived up here while all the girls are having such fun in the gym. It isn't fair. I haven't done a single thing but get this coat," was sobbed from the bed, as a vigorous kick sent the eiderdown cover flying almost in Miss Woodhull's face. A little more energy would have compassed it.

Miss Woodhull deigned no reply, but turning swept from the room locking the door behind her. She could deal summarily with rebellious pupils. Then the search was resumed under her eagle eye, but without results. Not a creature was to be found, and dismissing her followers she returned to the gym to get Miss Stetson's report.

"Are all the older pupils present?" she asked.

"They are," replied Miss Stetson somewhat icily.

"Excepting Beverly Ashby, of course."

"Beverly Ashby is here. She is standing in the group near the table," corrected Miss Stetson with some satisfaction.

"Impossible. I have just this moment locked her in her room for disobedience and insolence. You are mistaken."

"Hardly, as you may convince yourself by merely looking."

Miss Woodhull did look and for a moment felt as though caught in the spell of that mystic night. Beverly Ashby stood laughing and talking with Sally Conant, Aileen and Mrs. Bonnell, as merry a little Tweedle-dum as one could picture. Miss Woodhull caught her eye and motioned her to approach.

"Ye gods and little fishes," whispered Beverly to Sally as she left the group and went toward Miss Woodhull. That lady's expression was most forbidding.

"Why are you here?" she demanded icily.

Beverly looked at her innocently as she answered: "I don't think I quite understand you, Miss Woodhull."

"Not understand me? Is your intellect impaired? Did I not order you to remain in your room for the remainder of this evening?"

"No, Miss Woodhull."

Miss Woodhull turned crimson. Such barefaced audacity was unheard of.

"How did you manage to leave the room, may I inquire?"

"I have not left the room since I entered it at eight o'clock, Miss Woodhull."

"Mrs. Bonnell," called the now thoroughly exasperated principal, "did you see Beverly Ashby return to this gymnasium less than ten minutes ago?"

"Beverly has not been out of it, Miss Woodhull. She has been enjoying her refreshments with the other pupils."

"Ridiculous! Miss Stetson, perhaps you have a clearer idea of facts since I requested you to return to the gymnasium and call the roll. Was Beverly present when you did so?"

"She was standing not ten feet from me, Miss Woodhull. Of this I am positive, because her cap fell from her head as she replied and delayed the response of the girl next on the roll, who stopped to pick it up."

"I believe you are all irresponsible! These silly Hallowe'en customs have turned your heads. I have never approved such inane proceedings. Why you may as well try to convince me that I, myself, did not enter Suite 10, and that I did not speak to Beverly Ashby in it not ten minutes ago, and leave her there in the middle of her bed weeping and conducting herself like a spoiled child because she could not participate in the closing Virginia Reel. Utter nonsense! Utter nonsense! But we will have no more hoodwinking, rest assured. There has been quite enough already. You may all go to your rooms reels or no reels. I have experienced enough folly for one night—if not much worse."

For a second there was profound silence, then a general cry of protest arose. To be defrauded of their Virginia Reel for no justifiable reason, and sent to bed before ten o'clock like a lot of naughty children when they really had not done a single thing, was too much.

Petty wept openly. Petty's griefs, sorrow or joys could invariably find prompt relief in tears or giggles. She existed in a perpetual state of emotion of some sort.

Aileen murmured:

"Look at Miss Stetson's face. She doesn't know whether to frown or smile. She will lose her reason presently."

"Oh, why need the Empress have come in at all. We were having such fun and—" Sally paused significantly.

Beverly nodded a quick comprehension of what the conclusion of Sally's sentence would have been, and said, under cover of the babel of voices, for even the Empress, stalking along ahead of her rebellious ones could not entirely subdue their protests:

"And I am wondering what we shall find up in Number 10, and especially in bedroom A." And in spite of those possibilities she laughed softly.

"And not a single mouthful of that delicious spread after those ten miles. I call it a perfect outrage," muttered Sally like a distant thunder-storm.

Beverly flashed one quizzical, tantalizing glance at her. "Don't let that worry you," she said.

"What?" whispered Sally eagerly.

"Hush. Listen to the Empress. Oh, isn't this the richest you ever heard?"



CHAPTER XI

"DE HANTS DONE GOT DIS HYER HOUSE SURE"

They had now reached the south corridor, Miss Woodhull in the full force of her convictions, again heading straight for Suite 10, and bedroom A, in order to substantiate her statement of having within the past twenty minutes locked Beverly in.

She was affirming in no doubtful voice to Miss Stetson: "There is no reason that I should try to justify myself or endeavor to prove that my faculties are unimpaired, unless I choose to do so, but I prefer to convince both you and Mrs. Bonnell that I generally know what I am talking about. You will find that door securely locked!"

They needed no urging, but the door opened at a touch, locks nevertheless and notwithstanding. The light was switched on instanter. The room was absolutely undisturbed, likewise the bed. The puff cover, so lately hurtling through space and straight for Miss Woodhull's august head, lay neatly folded in a triangle across the foot of the bed. The pillow case did not show a line or crease. The spread was absolutely unrumpled. In short, not one single thing was out of place or tumbled. The room might not have been occupied for twenty-four hours so far as any sign of disturbance was evident.

Miss Stetson looked just a trifle skeptical. Mrs. Bonnell's lips twitched a bit at the corners though her face was most respectfully sober.

With one withering glance at Beverly, the teachers, and all concerned, Miss Woodhull remarked scathingly: "If you were capable of such expedition in worthier causes you would lead the school," and glancing neither to the right nor left, swept from the room.

"You are to retire at once and no noise, young ladies," ordered Miss Stetson, divided between satisfaction at having proved her statement regarding Beverly's presence in the gym and her resentment at being doubted at the outset.

Mrs. Bonnell had already retreated to her special sanctum, there to have a quiet laugh over the whole absurd situation. She had guessed, of course, who Tweedle-dee and Jack o' Lantern were and in spite of rules to the contrary, thought it a rather good joke than otherwise. Presently she would send the servants into the gym to clear away the remains of the feast, but she would have her laugh first.

Miss Baylis, whose room was in the main building with the seniors had repaired thither to enforce compliance with Miss Woodhull's commands. No easy task, for some of the girls were long past baby days and resented baby treatment. The other teachers also had their hands full. Consequently the south wing was left entirely to Miss Stetson's supervision, and the south wing was a pretty sizable building and naturally under existing circumstances, it did not simmer down as promptly as under ordinary conditions. Miss Stetson was compelled to go from room to room.

"Girls, be quick! Get undressed as fast as you can and put out your light," urged Beverly.

"What's up?" demanded Sally, who was inclined to dawdle from very perversity.

"Springing another one on us, Bev?" asked Aileen, laughing softly but hastily complying with orders.

Beverly vouchsafed no answer beyond a significant little jerk of her head.

In five minutes the lights were out in A, B, and C and Study 10 was in darkness also. Miss Stetson, ever suspicious, tiptoed back to peep in but found nothing amiss. Then a new outbreak far down the corridor summoned her to that end and Number 10 was for the time being left in peace. This was the cue. Beverly let about five minutes pass, then slipped out of bed and into her bathrobe and bedroom slippers in a jiffy. Sally and Aileen needed no hint to follow suit.

"Come quick," whispered Beverly.

Number 10 was fortunately, (or unfortunately) nearer the door leading to the gym gallery than some other suites. The corridor was now conveniently dark, the lights having been extinguished by Miss Stetson. Only the patches of moonlight shining through the windows showed the prowlers which way to turn. In two seconds the gallery door was reached and the three were upon the gym side of it.

Now Miss Woodhull's pet economy was lights, and woe betide the luckless inmate of Leslie Manor who needlessly used electricity. The girls often said that if the house ever caught fire Miss Woodhull would pause in rushing from it to switch off any electric bulb left burning. From sheer force of habit she had switched off the lights in the gym as she hurried from it, a key happening to be at the side of the door through which she led her brood. That the tail-end of the crowd might have stumbled over something was a trifling consideration.

Beverly's quick wits which had grasped many details of Miss Woodhull's idiosyncrasies, had taken in this one. It served her turn now. The gym was lighted only by moonlight, and silent as silence itself. The girls tittered.

"Isn't the joke on you, Bev?" asked Aileen.

"Oh look! Quick!" whispered Sally.

Beverly merely nodded.

At the further end of the room something glowed uncannily. Then two figures stole into a patch of moonlight, one tall and tattered; the other enveloped in a long garment which resembled a girl's coat, and from out the darkness came a sepulchral whisper:

"Where the dickens did you say that key was?"

"Under the last side-horse," Beverly whispered back. "Can't you find it?"

"Ah, I looked under the first one," was the disgusted answer.

"Did you get the box?"

"Yes, I've got it all O. K.," replied the taller figure, "and now we're going to beat it. Good-night. Did you get ragged again?"

"Nothing stirring, but we wanted to be sure you got the eats. They're great. Good-night," whispered Beverly.

"So long," and spook number one having evidently found the key in question made for a door which gave upon the rear terrace. Just as he was about to insert the key the door was opened from the outside and Wesley's wooley head was outlined in the moonlight. The spooks darted behind the refreshment table and the three watchers dropped into inconspicuous heaps upon the gallery floor.

Wesley had entered with his pass key in compliance with Mrs. Bonnell's orders. The maids who were to help him had lingered to get their trays. Wesley would have given a good deal could the clearing up have been deferred until the light of day, but he was obliged to obey Mrs. Bonnell.

"Whar dose fool gals at wid dey trays?" he muttered, "Seem lak gals ain' never whar yo' want 'em when yo' want 'em, an' pintedly dar when yo' don'. Ma Lawd, whar' dat 'lectric switch at," he ended as he clawed about the dark wall at the side of the door for the duplicate of the switch Miss Woodhull had so carefully turned off.

As he found it a groan just behind him caused him to swing sharply about.

Unless one has heard a darkie's howl of terror at what he believes to be an apparition it is utterly impossible to convey any idea of its weirdness.

Wesley tried to reach the door. So did the tall spook. The result was a collision which sent Wesley heels over head, and before he could scramble to his feet again two spooks instead of one had vanished.

With a second howl the darkie shot across the gym and out of the door which led into the main building, where his cries speedily brought an audience to which he protested that:

"De hants done got dis house, suah!" and so successfully drew attention to the main floor that the three girls had no difficulty in slipping back to Number 10 and raising a window to listen to the thud of hoofbeats down the driveway.

So ended All Saint's Eve, though Wesley Watts Mather long retained his horror of that gymnasium after nightfall.

Then for a time all moved serenely at Leslie Manor. Thanksgiving recess was drawing nigh and the girls were planning for their holiday, which would begin on the afternoon of the day before and last until the following Monday morning.

Beverly was, of course, going to Woodbine, the boys to be her escort from Front Royal, to which junction she would be duly escorted by Miss Stetson, in company with Sally and Aileen, who were also going home.

Petty Gaylord was to join her doting mamma in Washington and proceed from that city to Annapolis to attend the Thanksgiving hop at the Naval Academy with the idol of her affections and also go up to the Army-Navy game in Philadelphia upon the Saturday following, and Petty was a very geyser of gurgling giggles at the prospect.

Beverly's five days at home with the boys seemed only to emphasize the separation of the past two months and make the ensuing ones harder to contemplate.

The Sunday evening before she must go back to school she was nestling upon the arm of the Admiral's big chair, her arm about his neck, her dark head resting lovingly against his white one as she "confessed her sins."

From baby days this had been a Sunday night custom, and more passed between these two in those twilight hours than anyone else ever kenned.

The Admiral's study was one of those rooms which seem full to the very ceiling of wonderful memories, and was also one of the homiest rooms at Woodbine.

It was the hour before tea time. Across the big hall could be heard Earl Queen's mellow tenor as he softly intoned: "Swing low, sweet chariot," while laying the table for the evening meal, the little clink of silver and glass betraying his occupation.

Mrs. Ashby had gone upstairs with Athol to unearth some treasures he wished to take back to school with him. The big house was very silent, a peaceful, restful spirit pervading it.

Upon the hearth in the study the logs blazed brightly, filling the big room with a rich, red glow and the sweet odor of burning spruce.

For some time neither Beverly nor her uncle had spoken. He was thinking intently of the confessions just made as he gazed at the darting flames and absently stroked the hand she had slipped into his, her other one gently patting his shoulder. Now and again she kissed the thick, silvery curls which crowned the dear old head.

Presently he said abruptly:

"And now that you've gotten your load of sins off your shoulders and bundled onto mine do you feel better?"

"No, I can't say that I do, but I had to unload all the same. There is no one at the school to unload upon, you see. Besides, it could never be like you, any way. You always let things sort of percolate, before you let off steam, but it's mostly all steam, or hot air, at Leslie Manor."

"Reckon you can supply your share of the latter, can't you?" was the half serious, half-bantering retort.

"Somehow, I haven't felt exactly hot-airy since I've been there. It makes me feel more steamy; as though I'd blow up sometimes. It seems so sort of—of—oh, I don't know just how to tell you. I'd like to like Miss Woodhull but she'd freeze a polar bear, and I believe she just hates girls even though she keeps a girl's school. And Miss Stetson must have been fed on vinegar when she was a baby, and Miss Baylis is the limit, and Miss Forsdyke lives in Rome."

"Is anybody just right?" asked the Admiral, quizzically.

"Some of them would be all right if they had half a chance or dared. Mrs. Bonnel is a dear. Miss Dalton's lovely, but has no chance to prove it. Miss Powell is the most loveable girl you ever knew and the little kindergarteners adore her. Miss Forsdyke would be lovely if she wasn't scared to death of Miss Woodhull and Miss Atwell would be sort of nice if she wasn't so silly. Oh, Uncle Athol if you only could see her pose and make us do stunts! And she's just like a jelly fish; all floppy and tumble-a-party. I feel just exactly as though I hadn't a bone in my body after two hours flopping 'round under her instructions."

"What in thunder do they waste time on such nonsense for?" blurted out the Admiral.

"To make us supple and graceful. Am I stiff, Uncle Athol? I've always felt ten times more supple after a rattling good gallop with Ath and Archie, or half a dozen games of tennis, than after I've turned and twisted myself into bowline-knots with Miss Atwell. Oh, how I miss the old good times, Uncle Athol! Why can't Ath come to see me or I go to see him sometimes? If they'd only let me I'd never think of running away as I did that day."

"Good Lord how can I tell the workings of an old maid's mind?" exploded Admiral Seldon. "It's too big a question for me to answer. I've always had an idea that it was a good thing for boys and girls to grow up together, and so has your mother, I reckon, or she'd never have allowed you to romp 'round with Athol and Archie as long as you have. And I can't for the life of me see that you're any the worse for it. But maybe that's just exactly the difference between an old maid's and an old bach's viewpoint. Can't you wheedle her as you wheedle me. Seems to me if you went at it like this you might make her believe that the port and starboard lights were black and white instead of red and green. Try it."

"Cuddle Miss Woodhull! Uncle Athol would you like to cuddle Miss Woodhull?" demanded Beverly tragically.

"God bless my soul, No! I'd as soon cuddle that statue of Diana yonder on the lawn."

"So would I," was the prompt reply. "I reckon I'd rather. She isn't half so cold. Wheedle? Hum. Wouldn't it be funny if I could? I'll think about it. But if she were as cuddable as you it would be—de-li-cious," she ended with a bear hug.

"Here's Queen to announce tea. Come along you artful huzzy. I never have an atom of justice or logic in me when I talk to you."

Nevertheless, he kissed her very tenderly as he untwined her circling arms. The past two months had been very lonely ones for him without her.

"Will you try to make Miss Woodhull let us see each other?" she begged.

"I'll think about it. I'll think about it. And do you do some thinking too lest you disgrace Woodbine.

"I'm going to think. Hard," she added, as together they entered the cheerful dining room.



CHAPTER XII

AFTER THE HOLIDAYS

The session between the Thanksgiving and Christmas vacation always seemed a brief one, filled as it is with plans for the latter holiday.

When the Thanksgiving holiday was over Beverly and the boys went back to their respective schools under Admiral Seldon's escort. At least he went as far as Front Royal with Athol and Archie, leaving them at that point to go on by themselves while he accompanied Beverly to Leslie Manor. He was minded to have a few words with Miss Woodhull and know something more of the lady's character than he already knew. The outcome of that interview left a good deal to be desired upon the Admiral's part. He returned to Woodbine "with every gun silenced," and the lady triumphant in her convictions that her methods of conducting a school for girls were quite beyond criticism. It would be utterly impossible for Beverly to even think of visiting her brother at Kilton Hall, she said, nor could she consent to Athol visiting Leslie Manor. She did not wish to establish a precedent. As to Archie ever coming there, that idea was preposterous. Why every boy for miles around would feel at liberty to call upon her pupils and they would be simply besieged. She had conducted her school successfully for many years under its present methods and until she saw more cogent reasons for changing she should continue to do so.

Had not the Admiral made arrangements for the year it is safe to surmise that Beverly would have returned to Woodbine with him, and his frame of mind, and the remarks to which he gave utterance, as he drove back to the junction, elicited more than one broad grin or chuckle from Andrew J. Jefferson as he drove. But Beverly did not know anything about it.

So the weeks sped by until the Christmas recess drew near and the girls were once more planning to scatter, far and wide, for their two-weeks holiday.

Now be it known that Petty had returned from her Thanksgiving trip to Annapolis in a more sentimental frame of mind than ever, and filled as full of romance as an egg is of meat.

Each day brought a letter always addressed in a feminine handwriting, to be sure, or there would have been little chance of said letter ever reaching Petty. They were, she confided to every girl in the school under strictest promises of secrecy, re-addressed for "Reggy" by "darling mamma," for mamma, knowing how desperate was their devotion to each other, just simply could not help acting as a go-between. And she knew very well too that she, Petty, would not have remained at school a single day unless she did this. Why, mamma, herself, had eloped with papa before she was sixteen. One whole year younger than she, herself, was at that moment. "Wasn't that romantic?"

"Where is papa now?" asked Beverly. She had never heard him mentioned.

"Oh, why—well—he has business interests which keep him in South America nearly all the time, and—er,"

"Oh, you needn't go into details. It doesn't make any difference to me," said Beverly, and walked away with Sally.

"Isn't she odious! And so perfectly callous to sentiment," cried Petty.

"She's a dear, and it's a pity you hadn't a small portion of her common sense," championed Aileen emphatically.

"I have sense enough to be engaged before I'm seventeen, and to know what it means to be embraced, which is more than any other girl in this school can boast," brindled Petty.

"Well, I should hope it is!" was Aileen's disgusted retort. "And if you don't watch out you'll boast just once too often and Miss Woodhull will get wise to your boasting. Then there will be something stirring unless I'm mighty mistaken."

"Pouf! Who cares for Miss Woodhull? I don't believe she ever had a proposal in all her life."

"Well, you'd better be careful," was Aileen's final warning as she left the half-dozen girls of which Petty formed the bright particular star.

"Those three feel themselves so superior yet they are such children," was Petty's withering remark.

Aileen was two months her junior. Sally less than a year and Beverly exactly fifteen months. But being engaged very naturally developes and broadens one's views of life. Dear "Reggie" was just twenty, and had his lady love but known that interesting fact, had already been "engaged" to three other susceptible damsels during his brief sojourn upon the earth. Moreover, he was openly boasting of it to his fellow midshipmen and regarding it as a good joke. Oh, Reggie was a full-fledged, brass-buttoned heart-breaker. Happily he was not a representative among his companions. Most of them are gentlemen. They can do a good bit of "fussing" as they term it, but this wholesale engagement business is the exception, rather than the rule.

Nevertheless, Petty had sang of the charms of Annapolis until all her set were wild to go there, and her enthusiasm had spread like chickenpox. If the affairs at Annapolis were all Petty pictured them and the midshipmen as fascinating, the place must, indeed, be a sort of Paradise.

Of course, all the girls knew that Beverly was a real, true Admiral's grandniece. That he had left Annapolis upon his graduation to take sides with his native state. So why had Beverly never been to that alluring place?

Beverly had never given Annapolis a thought. Now, however, she meant to know a few facts regarding it, and while home on her vacation learned a number. She also learned that sometime in the spring, during the Easter holiday, possibly, her uncle might take her and the boys to Washington and while stopping in the capital, visit the old town which lay adjacent to the Naval Academy Reservation.

Upon her return after the Christmas recess Beverly made some casual allusion to this fact, and at once started a new and livelier interest. Why couldn't a party of girls be chaperoned there by one of the teachers, choosing the same time?

In five minutes it was all planned. But they had Miss Woodhull to reckon with, and Easter was still many weeks ahead on the calendar.

When not long after came the mid-year examinations. The girls had been working hard all the week and were tired. Examinations had ended the day before and they had about reached the limit for that week. February was the month most dreaded of all the eight. The last period of each day was twelve to one, the juniors had history and English literature under Miss Baylis. Now Miss Baylis at her very best was not a restful individual with whom to come in touch, and after a long morning of hard work and the growing hunger of healthy appetites for food for the body rather than for the mind, the girls did not find "a barbed tongue" and a caustic disposition soothing.

English literature as taught by Miss Baylis was not inspiring to say the least, and the half hour devoted to it had not aroused enthusiasm. Then came the second half hour for English history; Miss Woodhull believing it well to take up the kindred subject while the girl's minds were well imbued with the first one. Just as Miss Baylis was about to begin she was summoned from the recitation room by Miss Forsdyke.

"Take your books and refresh your memories for a moment or two: I shall be back immediately, and I hope you will employ this special privilege in studying diligently. You in particular, Electra, for you certainly did not make a brilliant showing in your literature recitation. Remember I shall expect you to redeem yourself in history, for the periods are identical," was her admonition as she went toward the door. As she was about to pass through it, she paused to repeat her words. Sally yawned behind her book. As the door closed Petty's inevitable "tee-hee-hee" was audible. The next second the door was hastily opened.

"I hope," and Miss Baylis' suspicious eyes were upon her charges. Then she vanished. Naturally someone else tittered.

Barely five minutes passed and when she returned her first words were:

"I hope—" then she paused for a smile appeared upon every face bringing the abstracted lady back to earth. It was Beverly who asked innocently: "Excuse me, Miss Baylis, but did you tell us to begin our literature papers at the ninety-fifth line of Pope's Essay on Man: 'Hope springs eternal'?"

"We ended our literature recitation ten minutes ago, Beverly. If you were so inattentive as to miss what I said that is your misfortune," was the austere retort. Nevertheless, the shot had told.

Ten more minutes of the period slipped by, nay, crawled by, in which Miss Baylis darting from one victim to another bent upon reaching their vulnerable points. Then it came, Electra Sanderson's turn to recite.

Now Electra Sanderson was distinctly of the nouveau riche. She came from an eastern city where money is the god of things. Why her father, a kindly soul who had risen from hod carrier to contractor, happened to choose Leslie Manor for his youngest daughter must remain one of the unanswered questions. Perhaps "mommer" made the selection on account of the name which had appealed to her. Manors or manners were all one to her. At any rate, Electra (christened Ellen) was a pupil at Miss Woodhull's very select school. A big, good-natured, warm-hearted, generous, dull slouchy girl of seventeen, who never could and never would "change her spots," but was inevitably destined to marry someone of her own class, rear a flourishing family and settle down into a commonplace, good-natured matron, Leslie Manor nevertheless, and notwithstanding. Miss Woodhull and her staff might polish until exhausted. The only result would be the removal of the plating and the exposure of the alloy beneath.

Electra didn't care a whoop for the old fogies who had lived and ruled in England generations before she was born. Indeed, she would not have wept had England and all the histories ever written about her disappeared beneath the sea which surrounded that country. What she wanted now was to get out of that classroom and into the dining room visible from the window near which she was sitting, and through which she gazed longingly, for there could be found something tangible. Her thoughts had been in the dining room for the past five minutes, consequently she was not aware that Sally had surreptitiously reached toward her from the seat behind, laid hold of about eighteen inches of the lacing of her Peter Thomson (dangling as usual) and while Petty Gaylord, sitting next Sally, was secretly reading a letter concealed behind her book, had made fast Electra's Peter Thomson lacing to Petty's boot lacing, likewise adrift, and then soberly awaited developments.

Sally could manage to do more things unobserved than any other girl in the school, though she had found a fair rival in Beverly.

Thus lay the train "of things as they ought (not) to be" when Miss Baylis fired her first shot at poor Electra.

"Electra suppose you return to this world of facts,—you seem to be in dreamland at present—and tell me who brought a rather unpleasant notoriety upon himself at this period."

Electra returned to England and English affairs at a bound. But to which period was Miss Baylis referring? Electra had not the ghost of an idea but would make a stab at it any way.

"Why-er-oh, it was-er-the man who made extensive use of bricks in the House of Commons," she ventured at random.

"What?" demanded Miss Baylis, utterly bewildered.

"Yes, ma'am. I mean yes, Miss Baylis. I can't remember his name but he did. I learned that by heart last night at study period," staunchly asserted Electra, sure for once in her life of her point, for hadn't she read those very words?

"Of 'bricks'?" repeated Miss Baylis.

"Yes m—, Miss Baylis."

Miss Baylis' eyes snapped as much as any pair of colorless blue eyes set too close together can snap. One of the many hopeless tasks which she had undertaken with Electra had been to banish from her vocabulary that impossible "ma'am", yet like Banquo's ghost it refused to be laid.

"Open your book at that page and read the sentence," commanded the history teacher.

Electra obediently did as bidden and read glibly.

"'He made extensive use of——'" and just there came to an embarrassed halt as a titter went around the schoolroom.

"Silence!" Miss Baylis' tone of voice did not encourage levity. "Well?" she interrogated crisply.

"It's bribes, Miss Baylis," said poor Electra, covered with confusion and blushes.

"Exactly. The greatest simpleton would understand that. Are you more familiar with bricks than bribes?" It was a cruel thrust under the circumstances, and Miss Baylis had the grace to blush at the look of scorn which darted from Beverly's eyes straight into her own and the curl which Aileen's lips held. But even a worm may turn, and for once Miss Baylis was taken off her feet by having Electra reply: "I guess it's more honest to be."

"Good!" came from someone, but Miss Baylis thought it wiser to ignore it.

"You may stand and read that sentence five times. Perhaps it may percolate after so doing."

Electra, still smarting under the sting of Miss Baylis' sarcasm rose hastily, and with her as hastily rose Petty's foot to a horizontal position, encountering in its ascent the rung of Electra's chair and toppling it over with a crash.



CHAPTER XIII

CULINARY EXPERIMENTS

Most of the girls gave vent to startled exclamations, but Miss Baylis was speechless with rage. Electra turned and twisted in her frantic endeavors to discover the origin of the upheaval, and Petty made a mad scramble for her history book which the sudden jerk had sent flying out of her hands, the sentimental missive fluttering from its hiding place to drop at Beverly's feet. Stooping hastily, Beverly caught it up unnoticed in the greater confusion, though she could not help seeing "Darling little sweetheart," in a large immature hand at the heading. With a scarcely repressed laugh she hid it in her book, and turned to face the storm center, Miss Baylis.

"Who is responsible for this folly?" demanded the irate one.

There was no reply.

"I wish an answer," reiterated Miss Baylis, turning to Beverly who sat near Petty. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

"Not exactly, Miss Baylis."

"Are you guilty of this act?"

"No, Miss Baylis."

"Do you know who is?"

"I could not tell if I did, Miss Baylis."

"I shall force you to tell," was the unguarded retort.

"It is rather hard to force an Ashby or a Seldon to do something they consider dishonorable, Miss Baylis," was the quiet reply.

"You are insolent."

"I did not intend to be."

Of this Miss Baylis was quite well aware. She had begun to understand something of Beverly's character and to learn something of the importance of this Woodbine family and their standing in the community. Consequently she turned her attention to Sally and asked:

"Is your sense of honor equally nice? Which of your classmates played this senseless trick?"

Sally remained silent.

"Did you hear my question?"

"I did, Miss Baylis."

"Then why do you not answer me. If you are aware which girl did this silly thing why do you keep silent when you know I am sure to discover sooner or later?"

"Perhaps for the same reason Beverly has," answered Sally. "But why don't you ask me if I did it Miss Baylis? I've often done far worse, haven't I?"

"You are rarely vulgar in your pranks," was Miss Baylis' amazing retort, which caused the class to gasp. What was back of this extraordinary hedging?

"Well I did do it, Miss Baylis, and I am perfectly willing to stand the punishment. Shall I go to Miss Woodhull's office after class?"

"No, I wish to talk with you myself."

Sally looked scornful. Well she knew that Miss Baylis had passed her vacation at Kittery Point where Uncle Tom Conant, a bachelor had also passed his. Uncle Tom was rich, good looking and dapper. A lady's man who charmed every member of the fair sex with whom he was thrown, but with no more idea of matrimony than of murder in his heart. He was devoted to his brother's children, as well as the fair sex in general and could no more help flattering every one of them than he could help petting the children who were always crowding about him. Some of his stories of Miss Baylis' "shining up" to him had nearly convulsed his nieces. It was the memory of these which brought the smile to Sally's lips at the lady's last words. At that moment the last bell sounded and Miss Baylis was obliged to dismiss her class as quickly as possible. Miss Woodhull was very intolerant of tardiness at meals. Upon the instant the release bell sounded the classes must be dismissed and each girl must hurry to her room to make herself presentable at luncheon.

"Sally, you will come to me immediately after luncheon. I am deeply pained that you could be guilty of such deportment. I wish to talk seriously with you," was Miss Baylis' concluding admonition to the incorrigible one.

"Yes, Miss Baylis," replied Sally, as she scrambled up her books and joined the girls all hurrying to their rooms.

Petty lingered to glance beneath chairs and desks for the lost letter. To her dismay it had vanished completely. She never suspected that Beverly running upstairs with the others, held it safe in her history. She would return it to Petty later. Just at present she was too much amused by Miss Baylis' attitude toward Sally, who had told her of some of the funny scenes at Kittery Point, to think much about Petty's love affairs, and before luncheon was over a diversion was created, which made her entirely forget it.

For some time, "Aunt Sally Jefferson," the cook at Leslie Manor had been ailing, and had recently gone away to "res' up." Mrs. Bonnell knew well enough that it was useless to protest. These "res'in' ups" were periodical. Usually she substituted a colored woman who lived at Luray, but Rebecca had taken a permanent situation and was not available.

Jefferson came to her rescue. He had a "lady frien'" who could cook nearly as well as his mother. Mrs. Bonnell was skeptical, but it was a case of "needs must when the de'il drives," and Juno Daphne came as substitute cook. Then Mrs. Bonnell's trials began. One morning girl after girl left her fried smelts untasted though ordinarily they were a rare delicacy in that part of the world.

Mrs. Bonnell investigated. What was the trouble? Had Juno prepared them properly?

"Yas'm I did. I just done fry 'em."

"Did you clean and wash them carefully?" persisted Mrs. Bonnell.

"No'm. Dey's such triflin' fish I ain' see no sense 'n botherin' ter clean and wash 'em."

The next morning such smelts as had been left uncooked for the previous breakfast, came to the table a truly tempting sight, but with the first mouthful a distinct murmur arose and Mrs. Bonnell exclaimed: "Mercy upon me! What has she done this time?"

Inquiries followed.

"Yas ma'am. I done wash 'em good dis time. I wash 'em wid dat sof' soap what Aunt Sally done made befo' she took sick!"

And then for more than a week all went serenely. Now dessert was being brought on. Mrs. Bonnell always served it. Wesley came in from the pantry bearing a large platter upon which rested a mold of pudding of the most amazing color mortal eye ever rested upon. It was a vivid beautiful sky-blue and Wesley disclosed every ivory in his ample mouth as he set the dish upon the table. Mrs. Bonnell had ordered corn-starch pudding with chocolate sauce. When she looked upon the viand before her she gave a little cry of dismay.

"Wesley what is it?"

"De Lawd on'y know, Miss. I sho' don'. Dat Juno done sent it in."

"Go at once and ask her what she used in making this pudding. I have never seen its equal."

"Ner I," chuckled Wesley as he hurried off. In five minutes he was back, his hand across his mouth and struggling manfully not to disgrace himself.

"Well?" queried Mrs. Bonnell, her lips twitching.

"She—she—" he strove to articulate. "She—she say she done got de-de-sta-sta-sta'ch in—de la'ndry, an' she—she—taken dat fer ter be ec'nomical an' save 'spence fer de school. It—it—wor lef' over by Aunt Mandy f'om de washin'. She ain' think,—ha—ha,—she ain' think de bluin' in it mak' no diff'ence, he-he-he—. Please, ma'am, scuse me, I can't stan' fo' no mo," and Wesley beat a hasty retreat.

Juno Daphne departed that afternoon, Mrs. Bonnell wishing to avoid the services of a coroner.

As there was no study period on Friday evenings the girls were at liberty to amuse themselves as they chose. At least, within limitations, though they often miscalculated the limitations. The afternoon had been too dull and cold for much outdoor exercise, so they had spent it in the gymnasium practicing basket-ball. In March they would play a game with a team from a town a few miles from Leslie Manor.

Beverly, Sally and Aileen were all on the team, Beverly having made it through adaptability rather than knowledge, for she had never seen a basketball before coming to school, but being as quick as a cat had made good. Consequently the occupants of Suite 10 were glad to rest their weary bodies upon couch or easy chairs when dinner was over, and Sally was entertaining them with an account of her interview with Miss Baylis after luncheon.

"She makes me tired. If it had been you, Bev, she would have sent you down to Miss Woodhull's office in jig time. But I've a good one for Uncle Tom," and Sally laughed.

"I wouldn't have cared if she had sent me. I'd rather come to an issue with the Empress anytime than with Miss Baylis. But the whole thing was funny as the mischief," answered Beverly from her big wicker chair.

"Let's make some fudge. I've got the needfuls, and it will sweeten our tempers. Such things make me cross for hours. We don't indulge in petty squabbles at home. Mother would be disgusted if she knew of some of the things which take place here, and father would say there was something wrong with the gasoline. He's just bought a new car so his metaphors are apt to be gasoliney," laughed Aileen.

"What will you make the fudge in? You let Hope MacLeod have the chafing dish."

Aileen looked daunted for a moment. Then her face lighted.

"I've a tin pail. I can make it in that."

"But how? You can't boil it without the lamp."

"Can't I? Just you watch me do it." Aileen was resourceful. In a few minutes she had the mixture in her pail, and the pail swinging by a string over the gas jet. Leslie Manor was quite up-to-date. It had gas as well as electricity, though gas was not supposed to be used excepting in cases of emergency. Once or twice the electric current had failed.

Aileen had fastened the string from one side of the room to the other on a couple of picture hooks. A none too secure support. Then all three sat down to wait until the fudge gave signs of boiling and promptly became absorbed in a new interest, the Easter vacation.

In the midst of the conversation, Beverly paused. She had suddenly remembered Petty's note.

"What's the matter?" asked Sally.

"I've forgotten something," she answered, scrambling from her chair and crossing to her desk for her history. She would take the note back to Petty. It was utter nonsense of course, but it was Petty's and if she was pleased with such nonsense, she was welcome to it. She looked hurriedly through the book. The note was not in it. Where could she have dropped it? No, she had not dropped it, of that she was certain. She had taken pains to keep the book tightly closed. She meant to have given the note to Petty directly after luncheon. How provoking! Maybe Petty had seen her catch it up and had come for it herself. She would go and ask her. As she turned to make her intention known to the others there was a snap overhead. The heat had burned Aileen's string before the fudge had begun to boil and pail and contents descended upon the study table with a rattle and splash, the hot mass scattering in every direction.

For the ensuing half hour the three girls had their hands full and Petty, notes, history examination and all minor affairs were forgotten.



CHAPTER XIV

COMPLICATIONS

But Petty had not taken the note from Beverly's history. It had been removed by quite a different person. In fact about the last one either Beverly or Petty would have dreamed of.

But of this a little later.

By the time the fudge had been cleaned off from everything within a radius of five feet, for a more complete splash had never been made by any descending mass, the "lights out" bells were ringing in all the corridors. Miss Woodhull had only to press a series of buttons arranged in the hall just outside her study door to produce the effect of the needle-prick in the fairy tale. Every inmate immediately dropped asleep. Every? Well, exceptions prove a rule, it is said.

The following morning Beverly told Petty the circumstances of picking up the note and of its subsequent disappearance.

Petty was in despair and scolded and wept alternately, accusing Beverly of having deliberately confiscated it, and hinting pretty broadly that she had also read it.

The moment this accusation left her lips she regretted it because she knew it to be utterly unfounded and the blaze which sprung into Beverly's eyes warned the little shallow pate that she had ventured a bit too far. She tried to retract by saying she was "nervous and excited and perfectly miserable at the loss of the letter. It was the first of Reggie's letters she had ever lost, and he had written every single day for a whole year."

"Three-hundred and sixty-five letters, and every one mushy?" cried Beverly, incredulously. "I should think it would be worse than eating a pound of nougat every day."

Petty alternately moped and searched all Saturday, but, of course to no purpose. When Monday morning came she was in despair, and went to her first recitation in a most emotional frame of mind.

It happened to be French, and Monsieur Sautelle had been the French instructor but four months. Moreover, he had not yet been in America a year and American girls, and things American, were not only new but a constant source of marvel to him. He lived in a world of hitherto unknown sensations and this morning was destined to experience an entirely new one.

The period was nearly over before it came Petty's turn to recite and Petty, as the result of having spent all her study period in a vain search for the lost letter, was totally unprepared.

"Madamoiselle Gaylor, you will be so good as to come the conjugation of the verb love, indicative mood, if you please."

Unfortunate choice!

Petty was in a very indicative mood already. Had he chosen any other verb she might have survived the ordeal, but under the circumstances to openly affirm: "I love; Thou lovest; he loves——."

Well, there are limits to every one's endurance under extreme emotion.

Petty hesitated and was lost. Not a word would come. Her throat throbbed and it seemed as though that pound of nougat Beverly had alluded to must be stuck in it.

"Proceed, if you please, Madamoiselle," urged Monsieur. Petty sat almost directly in front of him, or rather she stood—Miss Woodhull wished each pupil to stand while reciting—and upon being urged to "proceed" raised to him a pair of violet eyes swimming in tears, and a face of abject woe.

Monsieur Sautelle was not over thirty. A dapper, exquisite little man. He was distraught at the sight of this tearful damsel and, very naturally attributed her distress to unpreparedness. Petty was a pretty, inconsequential little creature born to play upon the feelings of one man or another. It did not much matter who he happened to be so long as he could satisfy the sentimental element in her makeup, and she was mostly sentimentality.

"Madamoiselle I implore. Why these tears? You quite desolate me. It is no such crushing matter that you do not know 'to love'."

"But oh, I do. I do," sobbed Petty.

"Then you will most kindly demonstrate that fact to the class. They wait."

If ever instructor was taken literally Monsieur Sautelle was then and there, for with an overpowering sob she swayed forward, flung both arms about the dismayed man's neck and burying her face against his immaculate collar, gurgled: "Oh, I love! I do love! Thou lov-v-est! He—He—loves——me!"

It was the most astonishing conjugation the startled Professor had ever heard in all his thirty years, and he frantically strove to remove the clinging damsel, at the same time commanding: "Madamoiselle, Madamoiselle, make yourself tranquil! You will cease at once. Mees Woodhull! Mees Stetson, Mees—Mees."

Now it so happened that Miss Stetson's recitation room adjoined Monsieur Sautelle's. She heard his call and responded with winged feet, arriving upon the scene just as Eleanor Allen, Petty's bosom friend, had sprung to her side, and while in reality striving to untwine Petty's clinging arms seemed also to be in the act of embracing the French teacher.

What followed is almost too painful to dwell upon, but within ten minutes, all three actors in the little drama were arraigned before Miss Woodhull and it was only Eleanor's clever tongue which saved the situation. She stated very emphatically that Petty had been too ill to study on Saturday evening; she did not feel it necessary to name the nature of the malady. That it had been impossible for Petty to prepare her lessons for Monday and that her act was purely the outcome of nervous excitement and held no personal demonstration toward Professor Sautelle.

This statement the Professor was more than delighted to back up and Petty's tears clenched it. Miss Woodhull could not endure tears; she had never shed one in her life so far as she could recall—and she wished to end the scene forthwith. Consequently the Professor was politely dismissed and speedily went to procure fresh linen. Under Miss Stetson's charge Petty was sent to the Infirmary, where she was detained a week, and Eleanor was bidden to go to her next recitation. But Eleanor, who was Petty's confidant in all things, instantly decided to keep her trump card to be played when the moment should be ripe. Eleanor had missed her vocation in life. She should have been in the Turkish diplomatic service instead of in an American boarding school.

Eleanor had taken the note from Beverly's history. She did so because, having seen Beverly pick it up and place it there she decided, from innate suspicion of all her fellow beings, that Beverly meant to use it to Petty's undoing. It never occurred to her that Beverly could entertain a generous motive toward a girl whom she held in aversion if not contempt. Then the note once in her possession she wished to keep it a day or so, in the hope that Petty might discover for herself where it had gone. It never entered her head that Beverly would go straight to Petty and explain the situation, and in a reticent freak quite uncommon to her nature, Petty had not confided this fact to Eleanor. And now it was out of the question to do so for the pupils were not permitted to visit the girls in the Infirmary.

Two weeks later the basket-ball game with the rival school was imminent and the team was working like mad. Leslie Manor had been beaten the year before and a second defeat would spell disgrace. Eleanor was on the sub-team. So was Electra. The captain and one forward were seniors. Aileen center, Sally a forward, Beverly had made good as guard and was working like a Trojan for the great event.

The Friday afternoon before the game a party of girls were taken to the village to do some shopping. Nothing more diverting than purchasing new shoe ties, hairpins, bows, and various other trifles. Also to make sure that the decorations ordered for the gymnasium would be punctually sent over to the school that afternoon and last, but by no means least, to indulge in chocolate sodas etc., at the big drug store.

It so happened that Miss Forsdyke, the Latin teacher was acting as chaperone that afternoon and Miss Forsdyke was alive just exactly two thousand years after her time. She should have lived about 55 B.C., for in reality she was living in that period right in the Twentieth Century A.D. and was so lost to all things modern, and so buried in all things ancient, that she was never quite fully alive to those happening all around her. As a chaperone she was "just dead easy" Sally said. A more absent-minded creature it would have been hard to come upon.

Sally, Aileen and Beverly were lingering over the last delicious mouthfuls of nut sundaes. Electra had finished hers and gone to an adjoining counter to make a purchase. Miss Forsdyke, who had declined Sally's invitation to have a sundae, was selecting a tooth brush at an adjoining counter when Beverly asked:

"Miss Forsdyke, why can't we carry the flags and ribbons back with us? Then we would be sure of them."

Miss Forsdyke laid down the tooth brush, picked it up again, hesitated, then walked toward Beverly, saying, "I am not quite sure that Miss Woodhull would approve. She does not like the pupils to carry parcels—large ones, I mean—and these would be quite large, would they not?"

"Then why not phone to her to ask if we may?" suggested Sally.

"Why-er-I-suppose I-I could. Will you kindly direct me to the public tooth brush?" she turned to the clerk to ask. "Oh no, no, I mean the public telephone booth," she corrected, coloring a deep pink.

"It's behind you," answered the clerk, trying not to laugh, and pointing to the booth which was exactly behind Miss Forsdyke. Still grasping her tooth brush she scuttled into the booth.

Naturally, Electra had been an interested listener and Electra's mind did not grasp two ideas simultaneously as a rule. She had not yet made her wants known to the clerk, who stood deferentially waiting for her to do so. As the possibility seemed vague he asked politely.

"What can I do for you, Miss?" and nearly disappeared beneath the show case when Electra answered.

"Will you please give me a glass eye. No, no, I mean a glass eye cup."

"That's no school, it's a blooming lunatic asylum," clerk No. 1 declared to clerk No. 2 as the last pair of shoeheels disappeared through the door, "an' the old one's the looniest of them all."

Nevertheless, some of those "lunatics" put up a good game of basket-ball the next afternoon.

As the game progressed the school and the spectators were jubilant. At least one-half of the latter were, and none more so than two girls who had come with the rival team, as all the Leslie Manor girls believed, and, although strangers, certainly enthused more over the blue and yellow, the Leslie Manor colors, than over the green and red.

"Look at those two stunning girls in the third row on the left side, Aileen. Do you know who they are?" asked Sally, during one of the intermissions.

"Never laid eyes on them before," replied Aileen. Isn't the tall fair one beautiful though? I've never seen such eyes and skin in all my life.

"She knows how to dress too, believe me," was Sally's admiring comment. "That's a stunning velveteen suit she has on, and her hat well, New York or Paris, sure."

"The smaller one must be attractive too. But isn't it funny that she should wear her chiffon veil under her lace one instead of outside of it? I wish she'd raise them properly; I want to get a good look at her face. Somehow she reminds me of someone I've met before but I can't think of whom. We'll ask Beverly." But just then the whistle blew and the game was on again.

When Leslie Manor won on a score of twenty to seven, the girl in the chiffon veil jumped to her feet, pitched her muff high into the air and yelled. Then evidently overwhelmed with mortification at her wild demonstration instantly dropped back upon her chair, aided in her descent thereto by a vigorous tug from her companion.

At Beverly's grasping, "Oh!" Aileen and Sally started. Beverly had not noticed the two girls until that instant.

"What's the matter?" asked Sally.

"Nothing. Just a funny kink in my side. It's all over now."

"You've played too hard. I knew you would. Come quick and get a good rub-down. You're nearly all in. Why didn't we realize it sooner. Come on," and full of solicitude they hurried her away to the dressing-room, her supposed indisposition driving all thoughts of the strange girls from their heads, and when the three were dressed and ready to join their companions the visitors had disappeared; gone undoubtedly with others who had come to witness the game, and they never thought to mention their presence to Beverly.

That they in common with the other guests had been ushered into Miss Woodhull's library, where, agreeable to custom, hot chocolate was served, had each, by some miraculous means contrived to be served three times, and had held a brief but most flattering conversation with Miss Woodhull, Sally, Beverly and Aileen never suspected. When they took their departure Miss Woodhull suddenly remembered that they had not been introduced to her and that she had not the vaguest idea of their names. Which of her teachers or pupils had been so very remiss?



CHAPTER XV

THE TRUMP CARD

It so happened that the presence of the two strange girls had aroused the curiosity of someone else, and that this somebody being of a suspicious nature at all times required but little to set her fancies a-galloping. She had watched the girls all through the game, and at its end sped away to the dressing room and changed her clothes with remarkable expedition. Then, instead of joining her companions in Miss Woodhull's reception room, where tea was to be served to pupils and guests, she hurried into her outdoor garments, and slipped out of a side door, made her way around the house to a clump of fir trees in which she could watch undetected all who left the main entrance of Leslie Manor.