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.