"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.