White Magic
October passed by with flaming crimson and gold on the trees, and orange
and mauve toadstools among the moss of the woods, and squirrels
scampering up the Scotch pines at the top of the garden, laying by their
winter store of nuts; and flocks of migrating birds twittering in the
fields, and hosts of glittering red hips and haws in the hedges, and
shrouds of fairy gossamer over the blackberry bushes. It was Carmel's
first autumn in England, and, though her artistic temperament revelled
in the beauty of the tints, the falling leaves filled her with
consternation.
"It is so sad to see them all come down," she declared. "Why the trees
will soon be quite bare! Nothing but branches left!"
"What else do you expect?" asked Gowan. "They won't keep green all the
winter."
"I suppose not. But in Sicily we have so many evergreens and shrubs that
flower all the winter. The oranges and lemons begin to get ripe soon
after Christmas, and we have agaves and prickly pears everywhere. I
can't imagine a landscape without any leaves!"
"Wait till you see the snow! It's prime then!"
"There's generally snow on Etna, but I haven't been up so high. It
doesn't fall where we live."
"Girl alive! Have you never made a snowball?"
"Never."
"Then it's a treat in store for you. I sincerely hope we shall have a
hard winter."
"We ought to, by the number of berries in the hedges," put in Bertha.
"It's an old saying that they foretell frost.
"'Bushes red with hip and haw,
Weeks of frost without a thaw.'
I don't know whether it always comes true, though."
"I'm a believer in superstitions," declared Gowan. "Scotch people
generally are, I think. My great-grandmother used to have second sight.
By the by; it's Hallowe'en on Friday! I vote we rummage up all the old
charms we can, and try them. It would be ever such fun."
"Topping! Only let us keep it to the Mafia, and not let the others
know."
"_Ra_ther! We don't want Laurette and Co. butting in."
The remaining members of the Mafia, when consulted, received the idea
with enthusiasm. There is a vein of superstition at the bottom of the
most practical among us, and all of them were well accustomed to
practise such rites as throwing spilt salt over the left shoulder,
curtseying to the new moon, and turning their money when they heard the
cuckoo.
"Not, of course, that it always follows," said Prissie. "On Easter
holidays a bird used to come and tap constantly at our drawing-room
window at home. It was always doing it. Of course that means 'a death in
the family,' but we all kept absolutely hearty and well. Not even a
third cousin once removed has died, and it's more than two years ago.
Mother says it was probably catching insects on the glass. She laughs at
omens!"
"I always double my thumb inside my fist if I walk under a ladder,"
volunteered Noreen.
"Well, it _is_ unlucky to go under a ladder," declared Phillida. "You
may get a pot of paint dropped on your head! I saw that happen once to a
poor lady: it simply turned upside down on her, and deluged her hat and
face and everything with dark green paint. She had to go into a shop to
be wiped. It must have been awful for her, and for her clothes as well.
I've never forgotten it."
"What could we do on Hallowe'en?" asked Edith.
"Well, we must try to think it out, and make some plans."
From the recesses of their memories the girls raked up every
superstition of which they had ever heard. These had to be divided into
the possible and the impossible. There are limits of liberty in a girls'
school, and it was manifestly infeasible, as well as very chilly, to
attempt to stray out alone at the stroke of twelve, robed merely in a
nightgown, and fetch three pails of water to place by one's bedside.
Gowan's north country recipe for divination was equally
impracticable--to go out at midnight, and "dip your smock in a
south-running spring where the lairds' lands meet," then hang it to dry
before the fire. They discussed it quite seriously, however, in all its
various aspects.
"To begin with, what exactly is a smock?" asked Carmel.
Everybody had a hazy notion, but nobody was quite sure about it.
"Usen't farm laborers to wear them once?" suggested Lilias.
"But Shakespeare says,
"'When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,
And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks,
When ring the woods with rooks and daws,
And maidens bleach their summer smocks,'"
objected Prissie.
"Was it an upper or an under garment?" questioned Noreen.
"I'm sure I don't know. I don't fancy we any of us possess 'smocks'!"
"Then we certainly can't go and soak them in a spring!"
"And there is no 'laird' here, and even if you count an ordinary owner
of property as a 'laird,' you don't know where the boundaries are!"
"No, that floors us completely!"
An expedition to the cellar for apples would be an equally hopeless
quest, for all the harvest of the orchard had been stored in the loft,
and was under lock and key. Some minor experiments, however, might be
tried with apple skins, so they determined to pocket their next dessert,
and keep it till the magic hour of divination arrived. Hot chestnuts
would be a distinct possibility, and a little coaxing at head-quarters
would doubtless result in Jones the gardener bringing a bag full for
them from Glazebrook.
They felt quite excited when the fateful day arrived. Miss Walters had
made no objection to an order for chestnuts, and had even allowed a
modicum of toffee to be added to the list. She did not refer to the
subject of Hallowe'en, for she had some years ago suppressed the custom
of bobbing for apples, finding that the girls invariably got their hair
wet, and had colds in their heads in consequence.
The members of the Mafia, well stocked therefore with the apples and
chestnuts necessary for divination, remained in their schoolroom after
evening preparation, so as to have a gay time all to themselves. To make
matters more thrillsome they turned out the light, and sat in the
flickering glow of the fire. Gowan, having the largest acquaintance with
the occult, not to speak of having possessed a great-grandmother endowed
with second sight, was universally acknowledged priestess of the
ceremonies.
"Shall we begin with apples or chestnuts?" she asked seriously.
As some said one thing and some another, she held a specimen of each
behind her back, and commanded Carmel to choose right hand or left. The
lot fell upon chestnuts, and these were placed neatly in pairs along the
bars of the grate.
"You name them after yourself and your sweetheart," explained Gowan. "If
he pops first, he'll ask you to marry him."
"And suppose the other pops first?" asked Carmel.
"Then you won't marry him!"
"Doesn't it mean that it may be Leap Year, and the girl will 'pop the
question'?" asked Dulcie, still giggling.
"No, it doesn't."
"Suppose they neither of them pop?" said Prissie.
"It's a sign that neither cares, but it's not very likely to
happen--they nearly always pop."
"I pricked mine with my penknife, though."
"The more goose you! Take them back and try two fresh ones."
It is rather a delicate and finger-scorching process to balance
chestnuts on the bars, and as a matter of fact Prissie's tumbled into
the fire, and could not be rescued. The party was obliged to watch them
burn. They helped her to place another in position, then sat round,
keeping careful eyes on their particular representatives. It was
forbidden to reveal names, so each kept the identity of her favored
swain locked in her breast. It seemed a long time before those chestnuts
were ready! Love's delays are notoriously hard to bear. Never were omens
watched so anxiously. Slap! Bang! Pop! at last came from Carmel's
particular corner, and fragments flew about indiscriminately on to
hearth and fire.
"It's 'him'!" cried Gowan ungrammatically. "He's done it most thoroughly
too! Carmel, you'll be married the first of any of us! You'll ask us to
the wedding, won't you?"
At that moment a chorus of pops came from the grate, causing much
rejoicing or dismay from the various owners of the chestnuts, according
to the fate meted out to them by the omens. On the whole Cupid was kind,
though Lilias and Gowan were left in the lurch.
"I don't care!" said Gowan sturdily. "I've another in my mind, and
perhaps I shall get him in the apple-peels."
"And if you don't?"
"I'll meet somebody else later on."
Having eaten more or less charred pieces of chestnut, the girls produced
their apples, and once more set to work to try magic. The apple had to
be peeled entirely in one long piece, which must then be slung backwards
over the left shoulder on to the floor, where it would form the initial
of the future lover. It was a matter for skilful manipulation of
penknives, not at all easy to manage, so difficult in fact, that Noreen
and Dulcie each made a slip, and chopped their precious pieces of peel
in the middle, thus rendering them useless for purposes of divination.
Lilias, who made the first essay, was completely puzzled by the result,
which did not resemble any known letter in the alphabet, though Gowan,
anxious to interpret the oracles, construed it into a W. Edith's long
thin piece of peel made a plain C, a fact which seemed to cause her much
satisfaction, though she would betray no names. Prissie broke her luck
in half in the very act of flinging it, but insisted that the two
separate portions each formed an O.
It was Carmel's turn next, and her rather broad piece of peel twisted
itself into a most palpable E. She looked at it for a moment as if
rather taken aback, then her face cleared.
"There are quite a number of names that begin with E," she remarked
enigmatically.
Now it was all very well to sit in the sanctuary of their schoolroom
trying such mild magic as divination through chestnuts and apple skins.
Gowan's northern blood yearned after more subtle witchcraft.
"I shan't be content till I've pulled a cabbage stalk!" she declared. "I
don't see why we need wait till midnight! Hallowe'en is Hallowe'en as
soon as it's dark, I should think. Who's game to fly up the
kitchen-garden?"
"What? Now?"
"Why not? We should only be gone a few minutes and Miss Hardy would
never find out."
"It really would be a frolicsome joke!"
"There's a moon, too!"
"I vote we risk it!"
"Come along!"
Nine giggling girls therefore stole cautiously downstairs, a little
delayed by Prissie, who, with a most unusual concern for her health,
insisted on fetching a wrap. They opened the side door, and peeped out
into the night. It was quite fine, with a clear full moon, and clouds
drifting high in the sky. The vegetable garden was so near that the
ceremony could be very quickly performed. It was, of course, breaking
rules to leave the house after dark, but not one of them could resist
the temptation, so out they sped to the cabbage patch.
Now when Prissie ran to her bedroom, ostensibly to get a wrap, she had
really gone with quite other intentions. She had certainly put on a long
dark coat and a soft felt hat, but the whole gist of the matter lay in
something that she slipped into her pocket. It was a black mustache that
she had brought to school for use in theatricals, and lay handy in her
top drawer. She had hastily smeared the under side of it with soap, so
that it would adhere to her lip, and once out in the garden, she fell
behind the others and fixed it in position. Then she made a _détour_
behind some bushes, so as to conceal herself from the party.
Presently, under the bright moon and scudding clouds, eight
much-thrilled girls were hurriedly pulling away at cabbage stalks, and
estimating, by the amount of earth that came up with them, the wealth of
their future husbands. The general surroundings and the associations of
the evening were sufficient to send shivers down their spines. Gowan,
looking up suddenly, saw standing among the bushes a dark figure with a
heavy black mustache, and she caught her breath with a gasp, and
clutched at Carmel's arm. For an instant eight horrified faces stared at
the apparition, then Dulcie made a dive in its direction, and dragged
forth Prissie.
"You wretch!"
"What a mean trick to play!"
"You didn't take _me_ in!"
"It was very clever, though!"
"You really looked just like a spook!"
"Take it off now!"
"No, _no_!" said Prissie. "Leave me alone! I haven't finished. Hush! I
believe somebody else is coming to try the ordeal. Slip behind that
cucumber-frame and hide, and let us see who it is. Quick! You'll be
caught!"
The girls made a swift, but silent, dash for the shadow of the
cucumber-frame, and concealed themselves only just in time. They were
barely hidden when footsteps resounded on the gravel, and a figure
advanced from the direction of the house. It came alone, and it carried
something in its hand. In the clear beams of the moonlight, the Mafia
had no difficulty in recognizing Laurette, and could see that what she
bore was her bedroom mirror. They chuckled inwardly. Most evidently she
had sallied forth to try the white magic of Hallowe'en, and to make the
spell work more securely had come alone to consult the cabbage oracle.
First she placed her mirror on the ground, and tilted its swing glass to
a convenient angle at which to catch reflections. Then she pulled hard
at a stalk, looked with apparent satisfaction at the decidedly thick
lumps of earth that adhered (which, if the magic were to be trusted,
must represent a considerable fortune); then, clasping her cabbage in
her hand, knelt down in front of the looking-glass, and began to mutter
something to herself in a low voice. Her back was towards the
cucumber-frame and the bushes, and her eyes were fixed on her mirror.
Prissie, looking on, realized that it was the chance of a lifetime. She
stole on tiptoe from her retreat, and peeped over Laurette's shoulder so
that her reflection should be displayed in the glass. Laurette, seeing
suddenly a most unexpected vision of a dark mustache, literally yelled
with fright, sprang up, and turned round to face her "spook," then with
a further blood-curdling scream, dashed down the garden towards the
house. The Mafia, rising from the shadow of the cucumber-frame, laughed
long, though with caution.
"What an absolutely topping joke!" whispered Dulcie.
[Illustration: SHE PEEPED OVER LAURETTE'S SHOULDER]
"And on Laurette, of all people in this wide world!" rejoiced Bertha.
"Congrats., Prissie!"
"You _did_ play up no end!"
"I flatter myself I made her squeal and run!" smirked Prissie. "It just
serves her right! I was longing for a chance to get even with her!"
"What about the looking-glass?" asked Carmel. "Won't some of them be
coming out to fetch it?"
"Yes, of course they will! We must take it in at once. Let us scoot
round the other way, and go in by the back door before Laurette and Co.
catch us!"
Prissie seized the mirror, and the nine girls fled by another path to
the door near the kitchen, where by great good luck they avoided meeting
any of the servants, and were able to bolt upstairs unseen. The Gold
bedroom was empty--no doubt its occupants were shivering at the side
door--so they were able to restore the looking-glass to its place on the
dressing-table as a surprise for Laurette when she returned. Whether she
suspected them or not, it was impossible to tell, for she kept her own
counsel, and, though next day they referred casually to Hallowe'en
observances, she only glanced at them with half-closed eyelids, and
remarked that _she_ was quite above such silly superstitions.
"Which is more than a fiblet, and about the biggest whopper that Miss
Laurette Aitken has ever told in her life!" declared Prissie, still
chuckling gleefully at the remembrance of the startled figure fleeing
down the garden.