A HALLOWE'EN PARTY.
NOTHING worse than rats and spiders haunted the old house of Hartwell
Hollow, but set far back from the road in a tangle of vines and cedars,
it looked lonely and neglected enough to give rise to almost any report.
The long unused road, winding among the rockeries from gate to house,
was hidden by a rank growth of grass and mullein. From one of the trees
beside it an aged grape-vine swung down its long snaky limbs, as if a
bunch of giant serpents had been caught up in a writhing mass and left
to dangle from tree-top to earth. Cobwebs veiled the windows, and dead
leaves had drifted across the porches until they lay knee-deep in some
of the corners.
As Miss Allison paused in front of the doorstep with the keys, a snake
glided across her path and disappeared in one of the tangled rockeries.
Both the coloured women who were with her jumped back, and one screamed.
"It won't hurt you, Sylvia," said Miss Allison, laughingly. "An old
poet who owned this place when I was a child made pets of all the
snakes, and even brought some up from the woods as he did the wild
flowers. That is a perfectly harmless kind."
"Maybe so, honey," said old Sylvia, with a wag of her turbaned head,
"but I 'spise 'em all, I sho'ly do. It's a bad sign to meet up wid one
right on de do'step. If it wasn't fo' you, Miss Allison, I wouldn't put
foot in such a house. An' I tell you p'intedly, what I says is gospel
truth, if I ketch sound of a han't, so much as even a rustlin' on de
flo', ole Sylvia gwine out'n a windah fo' you kin say _scat_! Don't
ketch dis ole niggah foolin' roun' long whar ghos'es is. Pete's got to
go in first an' open de house."
But not even the rats interrupted Sylvia in her sweeping and garnishing,
and by four o'clock all the rooms which were to be used were as clean as
three of Mrs. MacIntyre's best trained servants could make them.
"Even ole Miss would call that clean," said Sylvia, looking around on
the white floors and shining window-panes with a satisfied air.
Mrs. Sherman had driven down some time before, with a carriage-load of
Jack-o'-lanterns, and was now arranging them in rows on all the
old-fashioned black mantels. She looked around as Sylvia spoke.
"It would have been spookier to have left the dust and cobwebs," she
said, "but this is certainly nicer and more cheerful."
Fires were blazing on every hearth, in parlour, dining-room, and hall,
to dissipate the dampness of the long unused rooms. A kettle was singing
on the kitchen stove, and tables and chairs had been brought over and
arranged in the empty rooms. All that the woods could contribute in the
way of crimson berries, trailing vines, and late autumn leaves, had been
brought in to brighten the bare walls and festoon the uncurtained
windows. The chestnuts, the apples, the tubs of water, the lead, and
everything else necessary for the working of the charms was in
readiness; the refreshments were in the pantry, and on the kitchen table
Lloyd was arranging the ingredients for the fate cake.
"There couldn't be a bettah place for a Hallowe'en pahty," she said,
looking around the rooms when all was done. "No mattah how much we romp
and play, there's nothing that can be hurt. Won't it look shivery when
all the Jack-o'-lanterns are lighted? Just as if some old ogah of a
Bluebeard lived heah, who kept the heads of all his wives and neighbours
sittin' around on all the mantels an' shelves."
It was in the ruddy glow of the last bright October sunset that they
drove away from the house to go home to dinner. Even then the grounds
looked desolate and forlorn; but it was doubly gruesome when they came
back at night. The Little Colonel and her mother were first to arrive.
They had offered to come early and light the lanterns, as Miss Allison
was expecting all her nieces and nephews on the seven o'clock train, and
wanted to go down to meet them.
The wind was blowing in fitful gusts, rustling the dead leaves and
swaying the snaky branches of the grape-vine until they seemed
startlingly alive. Now and then the moon looked out like a pale bleared
eye.
"It is a real Tam O'Shanter night," said Miss Allison, as she led the
way up the winding walk to the front door. "I can easily imagine witches
flying over my head. Can't you?" she asked, turning to the little group
surrounding her. There were eight children. For not only Ranald and his
sisters had come with Malcolm and Keith, but Rob Moore and his cousin
Anna had been invited to come out from town to try their fortunes at
Hartwell Hollow, and spend the night in the Valley where they always
passed their happy summers.
"Oh, auntie! What's that?" cried little Elise, holding tightly to Miss
Allison's hand, as she caught sight of Lloyd's old Popocatepetl,
grinning a welcome by the front door. He looked like a mammoth dragon,
spouting fire from nose, eyes and mouth.
Elise clung a little closer to Miss Allison's side as they drew nearer.
"What awful teeth it's got, hasn't it?"
"Nothing but grains of corn, dear. Lloyd stuck them in. You haven't
forgotten the Little Colonel, have you? She is inside the house now,
waiting to see you." Then Miss Allison turned to the others. "Step high,
children, every one of you, when you come to this broomstick lying
across the door-sill. Be sure to step over it, or some witch might slip
in with you. It is the only way to keep them out on Hallowe'en. Step
high, Elise! Here we go!"
"That's one of the nice things about auntie," Kitty confided to Anna
Moore as they followed. "She acts as if she really believes those old
charms, and that makes them seem so real that we enjoy them so much
more."
The Little Colonel, waiting in the hall for the guests to arrive, had
been feeling a little shy about renewing her acquaintance with Ranald
and his sisters. It seemed to her that they must have seen so much and
learned so much in their trip around the world, that they would not
care to talk about ordinary matters. But when they all came tumbling in
over the broomstick, they seemed to tumble at the same time from the
pedestals where her imagination had placed them, back into the old
familiar footing just where they had been before they went away.
Lloyd had thought about Ranald many times since Miss Allison's account
of him had made him a hero in her eyes. She could not think of him in
any way but as dressed in a uniform, riding along under fluttering flags
to the sound of martial music. So when Miss Allison called, "Here is the
captain, Little Colonel," her face flushed as if she were about to meet
some distinguished stranger. But it was the same quiet Ranald who
greeted her, much taller than when he went away, but dressed just like
the other boys, and not even bronzed by his long marches under the
tropical sun. The year that had passed since his return had blotted out
all trace of his soldier life in his appearance, except, perhaps, the
military erectness with which he held himself.
Kitty, after catching Lloyd by the shoulders for an impulsive hug and
kiss, started at once to examine the haunted house.
"There'll be mischief brewing in a little bit, I'll promise you," said
Miss Allison, as Kitty's head with its short black hair dodged past her,
and there was a flash of a red dress up the stairway. "She is looking
for the 'ghos'es' that Sylvia told her were up there."
Elise clung to Allison's hand, for the little sister wanted the
protection of the big one, in those ghostly-looking rooms, lighted only
by the fires and the yellow gleam of those rows of weird, uncanny
Jack-o'-lantern faces. Like Kitty, both Allison and Elise had big dark
eyes that might have been the pride of a Spanish señorita, they were so
large and lustrous. Kitty's curls had been cut, but theirs hung thick
and long on their shoulders. The sight of them moved Rob to a
compliment.
"You and Anna Moore make me think of night and morning," he said,
looking from Anna's golden hair to Allison's dusky curls. "One is so
light and one is so black. You ought to go around together all the time.
You look fine together."
"Rob is growing up," laughed Anne. "Two years ago he wouldn't have
thought about making pretty speeches about our hair; he'd just have
pulled it."
"Here comes a whole crowd of people," exclaimed Allison, as the door
opened again. "I wonder how many of the girls I'll know. Oh, there's
Corinne and Katie and Margery and Julia Forrest. Why, nobody seems to
have changed a bit. Come on, Lloyd, let's go and speak to them."
"I'm glad that everybody is coming early," said Lloyd, "so that we can
begin the fate cake."
That was the first performance. When the guests had all arrived, they
were taken into the kitchen. Under the ban of silence (for the speaking
of a word would have broken the charm) they stood around the table,
giggling as the cake was concocted, out of a cup of salt, a cup of
flour, and enough water to make a thick batter. A ring, a thimble, a
dime, and a button were dropped into it, and each guest gave the mixture
a solemn stir before the pan was put into the oven, and left in charge
of old Mom Beck.
By that time the two tubs of water had been carried into the hall.
Several dozen apples were set afloat in them, with a folded strip of
paper pinned to each bearing a hidden name. By the time these had been
lifted out by their stems in the teeth of the laughing contestants, the
lead was melted ready to use.
They tried their fate with that next, pouring a little out into a plate
of water, to see into what shapes the drops would instantly harden.
Strangely enough, Ranald's took the shape of a sword. Malcolm's was a
lion and Keith's a ship, the Little Colonel's a star and Rob's a spur.
Some could have been called almost anything, like the one little Elise
found in her plate. She could not decide whether to call it a sugar-bowl
or a chicken. But Miss Allison explained them all, giving some funny
meaning to each, and setting them all to laughing with the queer
fortunes she declared these lead drops predicted.
They tried all the old customs they had ever heard of. They popped
chestnuts on a shovel, they counted apple-seeds, they threw the parings
over their heads to see what initials they would form in falling. They
blindfolded each other and groped across the room to the table, on which
stood three saucers, one filled with ashes, one with water, and one
standing empty, to see whether life, death, or single blessedness
awaited them in the coming year.
In the midst of these games Kitty beckoned the boys aside and led them
out on the porch. "What do you think?" she whispered. "After all the
trouble auntie has taken to plan different entertainments, Cora Ferris
isn't satisfied. I heard her talking to some of the older girls. She
told Eliza Hughes that she expected some excitement when she came, and
that she was dying to go down cellar backward with a looking-glass in
one hand and a candle in the other. You know if you do that, the person
whom you're to marry will come and look over your shoulder, and you can
see him in the glass.
"The girls begged her not to, and told her that she'd be frightened to
death if she saw anybody, but she whispered to Eliza that she knew she
wouldn't be scared, for she was sure Walter Cummins was her fate, and
would have to be down in the cellar if she tried the charm, and that she
wouldn't be afraid of going into a lion's den if she thought Walter
would be there. And Eliza giggled and threatened to tell, and Cora got
red and put her hand over Eliza's mouth, and carried on awfully silly.
It made me tired. But she's bound to go down cellar after awhile, and
somebody has told Walter what she said, and he's going, just for fun.
Now I think it would be lots of fun to watch Walter, and keep him from
going, on some excuse or another, and then one of you boys look over her
shoulder."
"Rob, you're the biggest, and almost as tall as Walter. You ought to be
the one to go," suggested Keith.
"Down in that spook cellar?" demanded Rob. "Not much, Keithie, my son. I
might see something myself, without the help of a looking-glass or
candle. I am not afraid of flesh and blood, but I vow I'm not ready to
have my hair turn white in a single night. I have been brought up on
stories of the haunts that live in that cellar. My old black mammy used
to live here, and she has made me feel as if my blood had turned to
ice-water, lots of times, with her tales."
"You go, captain," said Malcolm, turning to Ranald. "You've been under
fire, and oughtn't to be afraid of anything. You've got a reputation to
keep up, and here is a chance for you to show the stuff you are made
of."
"I am not afraid of the cellar," said the little captain, stoutly, "but
I'm not going to be the one to look over her shoulder into the
looking-glass. I don't want to run any risk of marrying that fat Cora
Ferris."
A shout of laughter went up at his answer.
"You won't have to, goosey," said Rob. "There's nothing in those old
signs."
"Well, I am not going to take any chances with her," he persisted,
backing up against the wall. That settled it. They could have moved the
rock foundation of the house itself easier than the captain, when he
took that kind of a stand. Looking at it from Ranald's point of view,
none of the boys were willing to go down cellar, for they could easily
imagine how the others would tease them afterward. Kitty's prank would
have fallen through, if she had not been quicker than a weasel at
planning mischief.
"What's to hinder fixing up a dummy man, and putting him down there?"
she suggested. "You boys can run home and get Uncle Harry's rubber
boots, and his old slouch hat, and some pillows, and that military cape
that Ginger's father left there, and she'll think it is an army officer
that's she's going to marry. Won't she be fooled?"
The boys were as quick to act as Kitty was to plan. A noisy game of
blind man's buff was going on inside the house, so no one missed the
conspirators, although they were gone for some time.
"We just ran home a minute for something," was Keith's excuse, when he
and Malcolm and Ranald came in, red-faced and breathless. Rob and Kitty
were still in the cellar, putting the finishing touches to the army
officer. Kitty was recklessly fastening the dummy together with big
safety-pins, regardless of the holes she was making in her Uncle Harry's
high rubber hunting-boots.
"Isn't he a dandy!" exclaimed Rob, putting the slouched hat on the
pillow head at a fierce angle, and fastening the military cape up
around the chin as far as possible. "Come on now, Kitty, let us make our
escape before anybody comes."
[Illustration: "SHE BEGAN THE OLD RHYME."]
Meanwhile, the boys had corralled Walter Cummins, and Cora, seeing him
leave the room, thought that the proper time had come. Slipping the
hand-mirror from the dressing-table in the room where they had left
their wraps, she took a candle from one of the Jack-o'-lanterns on the
side porch, and signalled the girls who had agreed to follow her. She
was nearly sixteen, but the three girls who groped their way across the
courtyard in the flickering light of her candle were much younger.
The cellar was entered from the courtyard, by an old-fashioned door, the
kind best adapted to sliding, and it took the united strength of all the
girls to lift it. A rush of cold, damp air greeted them, and an earthy
smell that would have checked the enthusiasm of any girl less
sentimental than Cora.
"I am frightened to death, girls," she confessed at the last moment, her
teeth chattering. Yet she was not so frightened as she would have been
had she not been sure that Walter had gone down the steps ahead of her.
"Hold the door open," she said, preparing to back slowly down. Her
fluffy light hair stood out like an aureole in the yellow
candle-light, and the face reflected in the hand-mirror was pretty
enough to answer every requirement of the old spell, despite the silly
simper on her lips. When she was nearly at the bottom of the cellar
steps she began the old rhyme:
"If in this glass his face I see,
Then my true love will marry me."
But the couplet ended in a scream, so terrifying, so ear-splitting, so
blood-curdling, that Katie dropped in a cold, trembling little heap on
the ground, and Eliza Hughes sank down on top of Katie, weak and
shivering. Cora had seen the pillow-man in the cellar. Dropping the
looking-glass with a crash, but clinging desperately to the candle, she
dashed up the steps shrieking at every breath. Just at the top she
stepped on the front of her skirt, and fell sprawling forward. She
dropped the candle then, but not before it had touched her hair and set
it afire.
The soft fluffy bangs blazed up like tow, and too terrified to move,
Eliza Hughes still sat on top of Katie, screaming louder than Cora had
done. The sight brought Katie to her senses, however, and scrambling up
from under Eliza, she flew at Cora and began beating out the fire with
her bare hands. Cora, who had not discovered that her hair was ablaze,
did not know what to make of such strange treatment. Her first thought
was that Katie had gone crazy with fright, and that was why she had
flown at her and begun to beat her on the head. It was all over in an
instant, and the fire put out so quickly that only Cora's bangs were
scorched, and Katie's fingers but slightly burned.
But the screams had reached through the uproar of blind man's buff, and
the whole party poured out into the courtyard to see what had happened.
There was great excitement for a little while, and Kitty, enjoying the
confusion she had stirred up, giggled as she listened to Cora's
startling description of the man that had peeped over her shoulder. "He
didn't look like any one I'd ever seen before," she declared. "He was
tall and handsome and dressed like a soldier."
"Oh, surely not, Cora," answered Miss Allison, who saw that some of the
little girls gathered around her were badly frightened. "That couldn't
be, you know. The cellar is quite empty. Give me the candle, and I'll go
down and show you."
"Oh, no, please, auntie, don't go down," cried Kitty, seeing that the
time had come to confess. "It is just a Hallowe'en joke. We didn't
suppose that Cora would be scared. We just wanted to tease her because
she seemed so sure that she would find Walter down there. Go and bring
him up, boys."
Ranald and Rob started down the stairs, with Keith carrying a candle,
and Malcolm calling for Walter to come on and help carry out his rival.
The four boys, picking up the dummy as if it had been a real man,
carried it up the steps and laid it carefully on the ground. So comical
did it look with its pudgy pillow face, that everybody laughed except
Cora. She was furiously angry, and not all Kitty's penitent speeches or
the boys' polite apologies could appease her. If it had not been for
Miss Allison she would have flounced home in high displeasure. But she
as usual poured oil on the troubled waters, and talked in such a tactful
way of her harum-scarum niece's many pranks, that there was no resisting
such an appeal. She allowed herself to be led back to the house, but she
would not join in any of the games.
"Mom Beck says I'll have bad luck for seven years because I broke that
looking-glass," she said, mournfully.
"Oh, nonsense!" exclaimed Miss Allison. "Don't give it another thought,
dear, it is only an old negro superstition."
She might have added that it was to herself and brother the ill luck had
come, since it was her silver mirror that was broken, and Harry's rubber
boots that would be henceforth useless for wading because of the holes
thoughtless Kitty had made in them with safety-pins, when she fastened
them to the pillows.
Refreshments were served soon after they went back to the house. Not the
cakes and ices that usually attended parties in the Valley, but things
suggestive of Hallowe'en. Pop-corn, nuts, and apples, doughnuts and
molasses candy. Then the fate cake was cut, and everybody took a slice
to carry home to dream on.
"Eat it the last thing before you retire," said Miss Allison. "Then walk
to bed backwards without taking a drink of water or speaking another
word to-night. It is so salty that it is likely you will dream of being
thirsty, and of somebody bringing you water. They say if you dream of
its being brought in a golden goblet you will marry into wealth. If in a
tin cup poverty will be your lot. The kind of vessel you see in your
dream will decide your fate. Ah, Walter got the button in his slice.
That means he will be an old bachelor and sew his own buttons on all his
life."
Anna Moore got the dime, and Eliza Hughes the ring, which foretold that
she would be the first one in the company to have a wedding. The thimble
fell to no one, as it slipped out between two slices in the cutting.
"That means none of us will be old maids," said little Elise. Miss
Allison slipped it on Kitty's finger. "To mend your mischievous ways
with," she said, and everybody who had enjoyed the pillow-man laughed.
The moon was hiding behind a cloud when at last the merry party said
good-night, so Miss Allison provided each little group with a
Jack-o'-lantern to light them on their homeward way. As the grotesque
yellow heads with their grinning fire-faces went bobbing down the lonely
road, it was well for Tam O'Shanter that he need not pass that way. All
the witches of Allway Kirk could not have made such a weird procession.
Well, too, for old Ichabod Crane that he need not ride that night
through the shadowy Valley. One pumpkin, in the hands of the headless
rider, had been enough to banish him from Sleepy Hollow for ever. What
would have happened no one can tell, could he have met the long
procession of bodiless heads that straggled through the gate that
Hallowe'en, from the haunted house of Hartwell Hollow.