A QUEER MIX-UP
"Jane, the girls are frightened to death. Can you imagine ghost
stories having that effect in this staid, solid, absolutely reliable
old college?" asked Maud Leslie.
"It is absurd," admitted Jane, "but Maudie, all students are not
scientifically inclined as you are. What about the ghost? Who is he
and who saw him?"
"He is the usually uncanny weird noise, nothing even original about
him. One would expect more of a college ghost. And just as trite and
commonplace is the fact that these nocturnal howls come at safe
hours when we cannot be expected to go through a fire or panic
drill. I call the whole thing disgusting."
"So do I," assented Jane. "But don't worry, Maud. If there is one
line of action I like better than another it is that of laying
ghosts. Whizz, whack, bang! I'll make the bones rattle if they come
my way."
Jane was punching a bag in the gym when Maud unfolded the story of
the ghost scare. It was not really news, for Wellington had been
buzzing the spirit's ears for days and not until some of the younger
students appealed to the older girls did Jane and other juniors give
heed to the fear epidemic.
"I'm glad you're still a junior, Jane," commented Maud, taking
breath after vaulting a horse or two. "We should never dare to bring
such trivial troubles to you were you a senior."
"And I'm glad to be a junior still," replied Jane. "Judith and I
decided on this extra year to specialize. But even were I a senior,
Maud, I would be happy to hear your heartbreaks," with a twist of
her mouth that took care of the paradox.
"Thanks a lot." Blanco, the wooden horse painted white on a former
"sorority spree," was cleared by Maud the scientific, and she came
up to Jane, a question in the sudden jerk of her bobbed head. "Jane,
will you help us organize a ghost raid? We cannot have the freshies
all scared blue by someone's nonsense, and Dozia, Inez, Winifred and
I have done all we could in the way of investigation. That's a trick
ghost, Jane, I am convinced of that much, and it will take a double
trick to lay it."
"Certainly I'll organize a raid squad, Maud. I'd love to lead the
charge myself. Do we have outposts, and pickets, and-trench
companies? Or would a bathrobe drill answer as well?"
"Jane, I am serious," Maud pouted. "I tell you some of the girls are
asking to have their quarters changed, and if all were given
transfers I am sure Lenox Hall would be abandoned to the ghost.
Rather shabby of him to choose the babes' quarters."
"Spooks are cowardly as a rule," replied Jane. "And Maudie dear, I
realize you are serious. But I can hardly organize a raiding squad
instanter. I must at least have time to round up a few reliable
girls. No use going after the 'sperit' with a band of cowards. You
know yourself what fun that would be for his spookship." "Oh yes,
of course, Jane. I did not mean to be impatient, but the girls just
begged me to enlist your leadership. You have always been such a--
successful leader."
"Thanks again, girlie. But failure is sure to come to him who tries
once too often. Not that I should mind failure, except for the sake
of those excited children. Really I hate to think how the ghost will
feel when we get through rattling his bones." A sudden dash at a
pair of ceiling rings set the whole line dangling along the gym and
served to illustrate a possible way of rattling spectral dry bones,
although Jane's graceful figure, as she swung to and fro, did much
to soften the effect.
"When can we make the raid?" persisted Maud. "I have promised to
bring a definite answer."
Jane dropped to the mattress and sat with hands clasped over her
knees. "Is this ghost a person of regular habits? Does he take
exercise every night?"
"The noise was perfectly dreadful last night, and Velma Sigsbee was
visiting Lenox night before and she almost went into hysterics when
the rattling began. You know what Velma is for signs. Won't wear a
thing green and all that."
"And I suppose she attempts to explain it all on purely reasonable
grounds of modern thought. The brand that credits the dead with all
power, and limits the living with a very flexible and convenient
practical faith. The two work together beautifully, of course, for
what we can't understand we must put down to faith, and what we want
to believe we are inspired to by our friends on the other side.
Dovetails perfectly, sort of a fidele de convenance. Well, Maudie,
you may tell the babes that we juniors, their natural guardians,
will take care of his ghostship if possible this very night; if not
tonight then tomorrow at M. I suppose midnight is the time of clangs
and rattles?"
"Yes, the girls say it is always midnight. And I just want to say,
Jane, that the big country girl, Shirley Duncan, is the only one not
terrified. But I suppose country girls are accustomed to wild
things." Everyone seemed loath to add further criticism to Shirley's
rather unenviable reputation.
"Oh yes; haunted wells and spooky attics, to say nothing of barnyard
'sperits' that roam about to scare the cows into giving buttermilk
and cream cheese," replied Jane. "It might just be--" she hesitated,
then jumped to her feet with a little gleeful bounce--"it might be a
ghost from Shirley's own home town. Strange we never had one at
Wellington before."
"Velma said something like that," admitted Maud. "She said Shirley
was so--so antagonistic that her presence here might disturb some
friendly communication, and--"
Jane's laugh finished the hypothesis.
"How delicious of Velma!" she exclaimed. "But we must be careful not
to bring any more trouble upon poor Shirley. She's only a freshman
and has apparently enjoyed few home opportunities," finished Jane.
"But why does she tell the girls such horribly weird stories?"
objected the scientific Maud. "She seems to delight in getting an
audience for the wildest sort of yarns. And just now naturally they
go to the youngsters' heads. Honestly, Janie, no less than three
freshmen have begged me to crowd into their quarters tonight. They
seem to think a soph might keep off this animated Jinks."
"I can just imagine Shirley telling country ghost stories,"
reflected Jane, "and I agree with you, dear child, she is very
inopportune with them, but it would be worse than useless for me to
attempt to interfere. In fact, I think if I did so she would take up
Irish Folk Lore to keep stories going. Running out of ghosts she
might fall back on fairies. She really seems the queerest girl we
have had in a long time."
"Except Dolorez Vincez, she was still more curious," recalled Maud,
referring to the South American character in Jane Allen: Center, who
still kept within the shadow of Wellington by now running that
protested beauty shop just outside the college gates.
"But Dol is something of a foreigner, while Shirley seems to be all
American," replied Jane. "Just fancy Americanizing an American born
and bred! But this Shirley girl surely needs some sort of treatment.
Her week of dusting Dozia's room is up today. I hope the lesson
brought down her hoity-toity a peg or two. There come the girls from
the village. Be prepared for more ghost stories for I see Ted
Guthrie gasping, even at this distance. And behold the windmills--
Dozia's arm! Something very exciting must have happened."
"Jane! Jane!" shouted Janet Clarke, the advance guard of the line of
girls marching in from the village. "Oh, you missed it! Hello,
Maud," seeing Jane's companion. "You girls will stick around a
stuffy old gym, will you? Well, then, you have got to miss things.
Come on in, children, and watch Jane's hair shoot sparks. Inez, you
take the first two paragraphs while I get my breath, and, Winifred,
don't forget those adjectives you hit me with under the oaks."
"Do tell?" begged Jane. "Whatever has happened and where is Judith?"
"Arrested!" gasped Inez.
"What? What are you talking about?" demanded Jane. The girls really
seemed frightened.
"Yes--she is gone--gone with an officer," panted Inez.
"There, you have had your two paragraphs," interposed Janet. "They
were short but complete and I have recovered my breath. It is so
exciting, Jane, and so confusing--"
"If you will just be coherent enough to tell me where Judith is we
might wait for the emotional details," snapped Jane. "If Judith is
in any trouble we have no right to stand around gasping."
"Right, Jane," assented Dozia. "But I did not want to take all the
responsibility from Inez. This is what happened. We were coming
along Cobble Lane when Judith espied two messenger boys on the rail
fence. They were apparently squabbling about something, and just as
we came along by the wild cherry tree, a few hundred yards from
them, the big fellow gave the little fellow a punch and sent him
sprawling in the bushes. Then the big fellow took to his heels--"
"He had something--a package he grabbed from Tim, the little
fellow," interrupted Inez.
"Yes, I know, but that is not essential now, we must get to Judith,"
declared Dozia, showing irritation. "Judith ran--"
"But the policeman darted out from the elderberry clump--"
"Winifred, please!" implored Dozia. "I will not forget to tell that,
but if you think you can do it all more intelligently or quickly--"
"Pardon me, Dozia, please, I am just too excited--"
"Did Judith go to help the officer?" demanded Jane impatiently.
"No," fired back Dozia. "It was old Sour Sandy, who always declares
we are up to mischief, and when the big boy ran, Judith chased after
him while Cop Sandy ran after both. We stood still--"
"He was muttering and threatening so," ventured Janet.
"Were you afraid of him?" charged Jane.
"No, but we could not decide instantly that we should run after
Judith. It was all so sudden," said spokesman Dozia. "And of course
we realized any more commotion would really get us all in trouble;
that old officer is such a crank."
"But to let Judith face it all alone," challenged Jane.
"I really haven't told the one important detail," Dozia vainly
attempted to explain. "I was walking with Judith and two other girls
were just a little ahead. They were Shirley Duncan and that pretty
little thing, Sarah--something--"
"Howland," Jane flung in.
"Yes," went on Dozia. "And Judith seemed so intent on watching them
she hardly answered me intelligently."
"There is something up between those two," declared Winifred Ayres.
"I know it, and I guess Judy knows it too."
"But what have they to do with the fighting messengers?" demanded
Jane, now utterly bewildered from the snarled account.
"The messenger, who got the package from Tiny Tim, shouted at
Shirley and she waited. Then, when he could get near enough he threw
the paper box to Shirley and she raced off toward the Beauty Shop.
When we saw the last of it we couldn't tell whom Judith was chasing,
but she ran right into Dol Vin's shop," declared Dozia, "and of
course Cop Sandy was not long in doing the same thing. We knew we
would be helpless to do anything there if Dol were in, so we came
back to see what you would suggest," ended Dozia with a trail of
relief in the last few words.
"I suggest that we go after Judith," promptly ordered Jane, and if
precious time had been wasted in the recital, the loss was atoned in
the pace taken by that rescuing squad as they followed Jane in her
race toward Dol Vin's Beauty Shop.