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.