CHAPTER VII
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.
CHAPTER VIII
TO THE RESCUE
The Beauty Shop was presently besieged by an excited crowd of girls, and to give due credit to the purely human element it must be admitted the girls were delighted to be there—at the forbidden post.
"Thrilling!" whispered Velma Sigsbee, and she "said it" for all the others.
The redoubtable Dol Vin (short for Dolorez Vincez) appeared at the quaint square paned door. She was gowned in a very close fitting and striking black satin "clinger" gown. Her hair was done in the most modern of styles, like a window show for her hair dressing parlor, and her foreign face, with its natural olive tones, was very much fixed up with many touches of peach and carmine, as well as darker hints under the eyes; and her lashes—well, perhaps Dolorez had been crying inky tears; that was the effect one gathered from a glance at the vampish make-up.
"Is Miss Stearns here?" asked Jane authoritatively. She and Dol had clashed glances before, and Jane had no idea of condescending to the apostate of Wellington.
"Miss Stearns here!" repeated the highly colored lips. Then shoulders shrugged and scorn fairly sizzled through an indescribable sneer. "I do not check up the patrons. She may be in a chair within. Will you enter?"
The girls surrounding Jane tittered audibly. Since when had plain
Dol Vin become so foreign?
"En—ter!" drawled Dozia. "Yes, let's," to Jane. This little hiss was intended as a reactionary simper.
"Miss Stearns would not be here on professional business," retorted Jane. "And she would never occupy one of your treatment chairs." Jane hated to dignify anything in the beauty shop with that description, but acid terms were elusive just then; and besides Jane was now getting anxious about Judith.
"Oh, indeed!" more shoulder shrugging and a futurist pose of the black satin "clinger," "What else, then, might the Lady Stearns be doing at my place?"
"Dol Vincez, you just stop that nonsense," flared Dozia Dalton, stepping up to the fancy little door defiantly. "We saw Judith Stearns run in here after Shirley Duncan, and you know very well that old officer Sandy came in after her. Now where is Judith?"
"Isn't it lovely to have you all here? And begging me for something?" Hands on hips, then a shift of the right hand to a very black ball of hair bunched out where the human ear usually reposes. "I am delighted I am sure with this visitation, and I'd love to ask you all in only I'm busy. You will have to excuse me," and with a very Frenchy bow, the Queen of the Beauty Shop got behind the squared glass door and pushed it shut till the latch clicked.
"Shut the door in our faces," growled Velma, as if everyone had not seen the insulting act.
Jane stood for a moment, thinking seriously and swiftly. She was not concerned with the girls about her; neither had she any of their curiosity about the interior of the shop. She was wondering what it all meant, and how she could trace Judith. A brilliant thought captured her. Why not go inside for a shampoo?
She turned to her companions. "I suppose it is perfectly proper under the circumstances to go inside—somehow. I'll apply for a shampoo!"
"But the rest of us?" wailed the curious Velma.
"Ask for something else," suggested the resourceful Jane.
"Perhaps she won't answer the ring," parried Janet.
"Then we'll knock," threatened Jane, as she pressed the little button over the "treatment hours" sign.
They waited. There were Jane, Dozia, Velma, Winifred, Janet and Inez, six palpitating girls, each taking inventory of her possible beauty spots that might need touching up. Even Dol Vin would succumb to such an onslaught of orders, but—
"Suppose she charges us some dreadful price—like five dollars each?" gasped Velma.
"Can't do it," declared Jane. "We'll go by her price list. But no one seems to answer."
"Peeking out, I'll bet," whispered Janet. "Ring three times, Jane, and she'll know we mean business."
Jane followed that advice, but still no answer.
"There's a side door," suggested Dozia, critically inspecting the long, low old stone building that had been put up originally as a rendezvous for Wellington faculty who might want to get away from the buzz of girls and college. It seemed no one had that sort of disease, however, and the rest cure "went to the wall" for want of patronage. Just what company was now financing the rather expensive venture of Dol Vin no one knew, but it must have taken a lot of money even to buy the window scrim, the porch cretonne and the gold lettering on window and door glass. These details were visible from the exterior, and what, oh, what might the interior look like to correspond?
"The side door," agreed Jane, "for all but one or two. Then perhaps we'll get an answer here."
The ruse worked beautifully, for hardly had the tread of feet—eight of them, four pairs—passed down the steps than in answer to a very lady-like ring of Jane's a colored maid drew open the door.
"May I get a shampoo?" asked Jane sweetly, stepping inside as she spoke and covertly motioning Dozia to follow.
"This way, please," said the white-capped and white-frocked, black- faced maid. And behold! Jane and Dozia were within the mysterious parlor!
Neither spoke. Both were listening. Someone was sobbing in the next room and Dol Vin's voice was remonstrating.
As if suddenly realizing the situation the colored maid hurried out. The sobbing ceased instantly and so did the talking. A step through the hall indicated the coming of Dolorez.
"What does this mean?" she demanded angrily, stepping up to Jane with blazing eyes. "How dare you force your way in here?"
"Is not this a public shop?" fired back Jane, equally angry. "Have you not openly solicited Wellington patronage?"
"As if you came for that! If you do not leave at once I shall phone the police!"
"Do," dared Jane. "And I shall demand that they search the place.
Someone is hidden here."
A laugh, empty of mirth but bursting with scorn, followed Jane's accusation. It ran down a falsetto scale like pebbles off a tin roof. Then Dolorez turned to summon her maid.
"Yolande!" she called. "Show these persons out."
The perplexed darky muttered, "Yes'm," and proceeded to obey, but Jane and Dozia never moved. They were listening now to noise of another sort. The girls on the side porch seemed to be having a good time of it.
"Come," demanded the inexorable Dolorez. "My time is precious and I must have this room. If you do not both leave I'll phone the college."
"How perfectly absurd you are, Dolorez," said Jane, more alarmed now that no hint of Judith's whereabouts had leaked out. "You know perfectly well we can explain all this, and you also know we are here to find Judith Stearns and we will not leave until you have told us where she is or where she went? May I use your telephone?"
"Judith Stearns is not here," snapped the South American. "And what's more I don't know nor care where she is. I can't spend my time with wild college girls who try to run down poor messenger boys."
"Very well," said Jane, deciding no more time could be wasted in argument. "But I warn you if our friend has been placed in any compromising position, or has been misrepresented to that hateful officer, we shall hold you responsible, for our girls saw her come here."
Jane and Dozia turned to the door. The maid was evidently well pleased with the move, for she showed glittering teeth in an inopportune smile. Dolorez had gained a very high natural color that cut in streaks through her make-up. She was breathing hard, and Dozia, usually fearless, thought it best not to anger her further. She followed Jane without even throwing out a look of defiance or challenge, and when the door closed on their heels both Jane and Dozia felt and really looked pale.
The situation was growing more complicated every moment, and now the girls from the side porch pounced upon the others with frivolous inquiries about that beauty shop.
"Hush," ordered Jane. "Do you realize Judith may have been taken to that horrible old station house? You three go back to college and make sure she has not returned. We, Dozia, Janet and I, will go into the town hall. You can phone us there in twenty minutes. Now hurry and be prudent. Don't spread any sensational stories."
Jane acted like a senior now, but the emergency was sufficiently exacting to demand such forceful means.
Where was Judith Stearns and what was the meaning of Dolorez Vincez' sinister statement, about running down poor messenger boys? Also who could have been sobbing in the room back of the parlors?
"Look!" exclaimed Jane as they left the tanbark walk. "Who is that running from the back driveway?"
"Little Sarah Howland," replied Dozia in amazement. "Whatever can that innocent little thing be doing around here?"
"I—wonder," sighed Jane as they hurried off to the old town hall.
"Jane," murmured Dozia, halting her companion for a moment as a sudden calling was heard through the fields, "do you think that baby can be implicated with those unscrupulous shop keepers?"
"She was in there, and we saw her run," replied Jane. "I would like to doubt my own eyes—"
Dozia grasped her arm and again they hurried on.
"Find Judith!" That was their slogan.
CHAPTER IX
WHAT HAPPENED TO JUDITH
In that mysterious way peculiar to girls, the students knew, without the facts being apparent, that something strange and perhaps even desperate had happened to Judith.
They had not been told any of the details, but when the party walking in from the village was suddenly broken up, first by the incident of the messenger boys' quarrel and then by Judith's disappearance into Dol Vin's beauty shop, with officer Sandy twirling his club and "gum-shoeing" after her, the whole situation was as clear as if the pieces had been patched together on a movie screen.
Judith, fighting for justice, had been ranged with the culprits!
There was no possibility of her return to the college grounds without her companions' knowledge; neither was it probable she had gone to take a youngster's part at the emergency court in the Town Hall without first having notified Jane or some of the other girls. She would have dragged them along with her, for Judith believed in team play for all things, even at trials and courts of alleged justice.
So it was that the girls' anxiety was not so thinly supported as the mere record of events might have indicated; they knew there was something wrong, knew it instantly and knew it positively; and they were right about it, too.
The outstanding fact was a weighty argument. Dolorez Vincez had been expelled from Wellington the year previous; she had vowed vengence against Jane Allen and her friend, Judith Stearns (although both girls had actually interceded for the culprit with the college faculty), and now was the time and this was the place to wreak her vengeance.
In a shorter time than occupies this explanation Jane and Dozia and Janet reached the Town Hall. The ancient building of dingy brick filled a conspicuous spot facing the Square; its carriage stone was a revolutionary relic and two reliable cannon set off the much trampled green diamond in front with something of a stately significance. It was fast growing dark in the early autumn evening, but the excitement of an arrest had drawn a crowd from the few business offices and from the passersby at the supper hour, flanked and reinforced by boys, boys who seem to go with excitement—always, at all times and in all places.
The students made their way into the hall with its sputtering gas light, and while Janet went to the telephone booth, Jane and Dozia hurried to the office of the chief of police.
"Judith!"
Both girls had uttered the name and both now elbowed their way through the curious crowd up to the rail, where stood the disconsolate Judith.
"Keep back, keep back," ordered an officer. He was the second and only other active member of "the force" besides Sandy Jamison, he who had "taken Judith in."
Jane and Dozia urged forward in spite of orders, however, and now Judith saw them! She flashed a look first defiant then hopeless. It had defiance for the charge, but was hopeless to make that country court understand. Jane and Dozia answered the code with unwavering determination fairly emitting from their every feature.
But the chief was talking or muttering, and he had been pompously rapping for order.
Officer Sandy was trying desperately to tell his story, but between twirling his club and chewing tobacco he was sorely pressed for a chance to say anything.
"This here girl," he mumbled, "was racin' after a boy with a package of joo-ell-ry. It was joo-ell-ry I know, for them boys from the city store was called to deliver——"
"Never mind about the boys," interrupted the chief, "tell us what the charge is against this girl."
Jane and Dozia exchanged a look complimentary to that chief. He had some sense they privately admitted.
"Yes, yer honor, I'm comin' to that," defended Sandy. "She ran first after a boy, then after a girl, and I seen the package go through the air——"
"Flyin'? Had it wings or was it a toy balloon?" Chief Hadfield was not a man to disappoint his audience, and the laugh that thanked him for this quip set Sandy twirling and chewing more vigorously than ever.
"It was pegged, throwed, fired," shouted Sandy, and his club just touched Judith's sleeve, electrifying her into open indignation.
"Keep that—stick down," ordered the chief, while Judith's indignation subsided.
How pretty she looked standing there in those sordid surroundings! Contrast, the maker of all standards, outlined the tall dark-haired girl in her brilliant red junior cap and definite red sweater, like the central figure in some old time country picture, where urchins and queer men gave her the middle of the stage and plagiarized the scene, "At the Bar of Justice."
"You caught this here flying joo-ell-ry?" demanded the chief.
"Oh no, oh no," parried Sandy. "Someone else caught that," and he waddled his head from side to side in amplification.
"Who? Where is it?" The chief was not playing the gallery now.
"The propri-e-tor of that there beauty institooshun has it, and it's hers. It had her name and address on it."
A sneering titter from the audience followed that foolish statement.
Old Sour Sandy had balled things up considerably this time.
"Then what's the charge and who makes it?" shouted and rapped Chief
Hadfield.
"Loiterin' and disturbing and I make th' charge!" Sandy put his cap on in the excitement of that speech but quickly yanked it off again in respect to the court.
Jane and Dozia could not remain longer silent. Evidently Judith had been educated in the absurd proceedings before they came. Janet was now in from the telephone booth and stood beside her companions, while Jane attempted to interrupt.
"May I speak?" she called out in the most musical tone her voice would accept.
"Certainly, miss," replied the chief. He evidently did not share the opinion of his subordinate on Wellington girls' character.
"This arrest is an outrage—a frame-up," declared Jane, glad to recall the vernacular. "There are three witnesses here who saw the trouble and we'll find others if you want them. The fact is Officer Jamison is always cross with us students" (she put it mildly), "and he was, perhaps, too willing to listen to our enemies. The proprietor of the beauty shop is a former Wellington student who was asked to withdraw last spring" (again the modification), "and this afternoon she saw her chance to retaliate—to get even." Jane made sure of being understood and now suddenly ceased speaking. She had learned the maxim, "When you say a good thing, stop."
The chief stroked his beard lines (no beard showed just now), then pushed his cap back officially. Judith slid her white hands along the brass rail playfully and even smiled at the man behind it. He was a man if also an officer, and he must know by her manner that Judith Stearns was just a very nice little girl being dreadfully imposed upon.
"Sit down, young lady. We'll be through in a few minutes," said the considerate chief; and Judith dropped to the bench beside Jane, Janet and Dozia. All three could not squeeze her hands at once, but all three managed to do something affectionate, if Janet did have to be content with a mere pluck at the white sweater sleeve.
"Now see here," spoke the chief in a tone of irritated finality.
"Sandy, what do you mean by disturbin' and loiterin'?"
"By loiterin' I mean that racin' after them little boys who was going about their business, and by disturbin' I mean—I mean that— that them college girls is allus raisin' a rumpus."
"Discharged!" sang out the chief and he did sing it. The tune of that single word embraced at least three whole tones and suggested several more.
A tumult followed the announcement but the chief rapped again for order.
"I want you people and Officer Sandy to listen to me," he thundered. "Because girls go to a college ain't no reason why they should be pestered" (his errors were truly elegant), "and next time I hear any such fool complaint there'll he some shiftin' of badges. Clear the court!"
And could you blame the Wellingtons present for shaking hands with
Chief Hadfield?
Making their way out finally the girls smiled to those in the curious throng who waited to sympathize or congratulate, and just at the end of the dingy hall Judith felt a small, warm hand grasp her own.
"I want to thank you, miss," spoke a hesitant voice. "You saved me from that 'guy' this after-noon, but I'm awful sorry you got into a scrape."
It was Tiny Tim, the messenger boy.
"Oh, that's all right," declared Judith heartily. "I was glad to be on hand and that doesn't matter. Did you manage to deliver the box safely?"
"I got it into the shop but the right one didn't sign for it. I know that 'cause that black haired one has a queer name and the box was for some Sarah Something. But I guess she'll get it all right," he finished with a professional air of certainty. "She comes there a lot."
"A box of jewelry for little Sarah Howland," said Jane to Dozia.
"And the sobbing in the back room," whispered Dozia in answer.
"That was she who ran out the back way," concluded Jane while Judith and the others were busy taking leave of the messenger boy.
"Some experience!" exhaled Judith, stronger and braver for her recent incarceration.
"That, and something else," paraphrased Jane. "But someone please run to that phone and tell the proctor we are coming. They may send the guards out after us. It wants only ten minutes of tea time. Run!"
The command was followed out to the letter.
CHAPTER X
THE INTERLUDE
Talk about antagonism," glowered Janet. "I call the whole proceedings an outrage, and if you want to know what I would do about it, I would ask a Wellington official to sue this dinky little town for damages." She snapped out the words as if each syllable were a blow on the very heads of the offenders.
"Don't you get excited, Janet," cautioned Jane. "We have our lady- like hands very full at the moment, and to run into more trouble would be positively rash. Besides, here is Judy, unrumpled as a babe from its cradle; seems to have enjoyed the whole thing and I can guess why."
"So can we," quickly followed Dozia. "She will put the experience down in her field work for Social Service. This extra year promises to turn out at least two stars in that course."
They were in the lavatory hastily fixing up for tea, almost late but thankful to be within the gates before the gong sounded. The adventures of that afternoon had been thrilling indeed, and a few of the girls shared with Jane the suspicions now settling upon the two freshmen, Shirley Duncan and Sarah Howland. Their presence at Dol Vin's shop, the sobbing heard behind doors, and that wild run of the girl who tried to get away from the place by actually scaling a back fence, and who was recognized as the demure little Sarah, all this furnished plenty of material for a mystery story.
But it was the innocent remark of the grateful messenger boy, that put the climax in at the very peak of interest.
"I know the right girl didn't sign the slip," he had told Jane and Judith, "because that black haired one has a queer name and she isn't Sarah Howland."
So the precious package was for little Sarah Howland. And it was being sent to her, care of Dol Vin. Also, and more important than either particular, the delivery of that message had landed Judith Stearns in court.
Was it any wonder ghosts had been crowded out of the day's or night's programme?
"Don't worry," calmly advised the heroic Judith. "What happened this afternoon is only an introduction. The real thriller is yet to come."
"When?" anticipated Velma.
"Oh, it threatens to be a serial. I may be able to give you a reel or two tonight after study hour."
"Come down to my room," begged Janet. "I have such a big couch and a whole raft may pile up on it."
"That's a good idea," agreed Jane as the last towel was tossed into its basket. "Besides, we haven't a thing to eat in our quarters and what's a good yarn without grub? Land sakes, hear the crockery! We'll miss the hash, I fear me," and only the restraining influence of Miss Fairlie in the lower hall saved a third rail flight via ballustrades.
Sweeping into the dining room Jane's eyes seemed attracted to a corner in freshmen's quarters. It might have been her excited imagination or pure incident, but she did look straight into the frightened blue eyes of little Sarah Howland.
For the fraction of a second there was something like a clash.
Jane's look was one of indignant question while the other
unmistakably showed fear. Then Shirley Duncan said something to
Sarah and the connection was severed.
Hash may have been served or even real lamb chops, but no power of special dishes served to distract the students from their delicious excitement.
"What in the world are you watching that door for?" Jane asked
Dozia, who seemed hypnotized by a brass door knob.
"Cops," replied Dozia cryptically. "I should hate to go out again tonight."
"That's a fork," Winifred Ayres prompted Judith as the latter pierced her pretty sherbet with a prong.
"I know," answered Judith, "but this mound is so pretty I don't want to spoil it at one gulp. A fork is daintier."
"And leakier," finished the critic.
Altogether the air was charged and surcharged with thrills, but it was Maud Leslie who broke the spell.
"Jane," she whispered as they passed out, "don't forget tonight at
Lenox. The girls are depending on you."
"Tonight at Lenox, what for?" puzzled Jane.
"Ghosts," said Maud. Then Jane remembered she had promised to raid the ghosts at Lenox Hall and to bring to the frightened freshmen a whole company of braves with their resistless reinforcements. And she had not yet been able to do a single thing about it!
"We will all be finished with our work by 8:15, Judith," Dozia Dalton announced authoritatively, "then you may recite the adventure of a Wellington in Distress. I'll be prepared to take you down verbatim, in case your counsel should need the confession."
"Janet, please have plenty of cheese, crackers and a few nuts. I'm losing weight," implored Winifred.
"And Jane, will you be so good as to bring a few sample apples that came in that last parcel post from Montana?" suggested Ted Guthrie. "I missed things this afternoon but I don't intend to be overlooked this evening."
Jane clutched Judith's arm to disentangle her from the others.
"I have got to speak to you alone, Judy," she whispered. "It's about the noises and the ghosts. The babes are scared blue, threatening to desert the camp. Get outside the door and we can vanish for a few minutes before study hour." They waited at the foot of the stairs until Janet and Winifred ascended, then Judith nearly fell over Jane as they both tried to go through the door at once, but the escape was successful in spite of too much noise from the loose old brass knocker.
Instinctively the two chums turned from the broad stone steps into the left path that ran away from a brilliant arc light into Elm Shadows. Silently both girls exchanged confidences, for Jane's arm around Judith's waist was comprehensive, and each little hug told a story of its own.
"Dear heart!" breathed Judith. "I would just have died if you hadn't rescued me when you did. And I know the others—ran away."
"Judy, love," returned Jane, "they didn't know where you were, really. And those country officers have threatened us before, you know. I suppose they are a little bit jealous that we girls and not their boys, are scattered over the landscape with yells and other appropriate noises. Sit down" (they had reached a birch bench), "I must tell you about Lenox Hall."
"I know about the noises and I do believe they are really uncanny," said Judith, "but what can we do away over at this end of the campus?"
"Go over to the other end, of course," said straightforward Jane, "and I have promised to lay those ghosts tonight."
"Tonight!" sighed Judith, dropping her head on Jane's shoulder.
"Not you, of course. You shan't come," protested Jane. "I only wanted to plan things with you. A warm bed and a nice cup of malted milk will be about all for you this night, Judy dear." The head, as black as Judith's own in the shadows, tried to fold itself on a cheek if no closer, but the attempt scarcely felt comfortable, and Jane just blew a kiss into Judith's ear, then straightened up again.
"As if I would miss that!" murmured Judith. "I am dog-tired, Dinksy, but ghosts! Oh, boy! Lead me to 'em!" and the courage of youth defied that day's record for Judith Stearns.
"We must hurry; see the lights in the girls' rooms, and you know they are bound to slight work tonight. This is what I suppose we will have to do. A few of us—you, if you insist, Dozia and Winifred, and I will somehow get out after Miss Fairlie has made the rounds. I don't know how we'll do it, but we have got to try. Then over at Lenox we may hide in the shrubbery and wait for the ghosts. I am perfectly sure they will come along the path from the gate keeper's cottage. Either they are inside or permitted to enter, and it isn't likely that ordinary spooks come through such walls as ours."
"All right. I'll be there if I don't fall asleep over my trig. But I do think being arrested is awfully wearying—I could dream here in spite of the howling winds. Jane Allen, do you realize this is a cold, bleak, dreary night, and you are tempting ghosts to parade in- -bathing suits or nighties?"
"It is cold; take an end of my scarf and hurry in. May a kind thought prompt us how to elude the wary Fairlie. Take care you don't seem sociable when she taps. It would be fatal if she should enter for a 'cozy little chat.' She has done it, you know."
"Do I know it? Do you think I shall ever forget the cozy little chat she dropped in for, when my alcohol lamp thrust under the couch threatened to burn down the place? I have never been friendly with the inspector since."
Judith ceased speaking suddenly and Jane clutched her arm as voices were heard somewhere. Yes—two girls were leaving Headley Hall and now came close enough to Jane and Judith to send even their subdued voices ahead in the darkness.
"You're a baby," one said. "And you nearly spoiled it all this afternoon."
"I never thought it would be this way. I'm so sorry I—" said the second voice.
"Goodness sake, stop whimperin'. Aren't you satisfied? Hush, there's someone on the bench."
"Shirley and Sarah," whispered Jane in Judith's ear.
But the two figures on the path had turned, and were now lost in the darkness along the lonely hedged-in walk.
"Imagine!" said Judith indignantly. "Those two little freshmen away over here instead of being at their books!"
"And did you notice Shirley was blaming little Sarah for whimpering? I tell you, Judith, there is something queer about that Shirley. She has money yet she came in on a scholarship. Then, there was the registered package of jewelry that brought disaster upon you and the messenger boy, Tim. He said it was addressed to Sarah. She surely shows a woeful lack of luxury, yet someone was sending her jewelry."
"And Dol Vin was receiving their mail, including the box," Judith summed up.
"I am sure it was Sarah I heard sobbing in that back room," insisted
Jane.
"There are the girls looking for us. We will have to plead headaches and need of fresh air, for you know I promised them the real story of my incarceration," sighed Judith, following Jane's lead toward the group of searchers who came down the path calling and whistling for Jane and Judith.
"Do tell it to them, they have been so splendid," pleaded Jane. "Besides, we have a night's work before us if we can escape on the ghost hunt, and a good yarn will do a lot to settle all our nerves. Remember, you are not to come unless you simply can't stay in bed, and if you remain in our building you may be able to allay suspicion when Fairlie comes snooping. 'Lo girls!" to the whistlers. "Here we are! Judy needed the air."
With an all star cast and such headliners as were scheduled for Jane and her constituents on that particular night, it was not easy to anticipate the outcome. If the ghosts would only do their part and appear on time!
CHAPTER XI
A TWICE TOLD TALE
Judith tried to beg off on her story of the great adventure, but the girls were insistent. "Just tell us what happened when you got inside the Beauty Shop," begged Velma, who had secret dreams of C. O. D. dimples and longed to hear of such possibilities.
"It was like a screen comedy," replied Judith, who had been beautifully pillowed up and otherwise made comfortable on Janet's solo-couch. The audience was scattered around on cushions, on the floor, on chairs, and even on the one narrow window sill. Queening it from her pillows Judith looked quite Romanesque, with Jane perched on a cretonne pedestal above the divan's level, waving her riding crop regally. The pedestal really was a specially favored trunk of Jane's which had escaped storage quarters and served many useful and practical purposes, the present being one in point.
"You were saying," Jane reminded Judith, placing a firm hand on the heaving breast solemnly, "that the rush in was like a movie scene."
"I said comedy, dear; there's a difference. First, Dol opened the pigeon holed door, then Sarah Howland tumbled in howling—she was honestly very much frightened, next went Shirley Duncan. She seemed wild to get under cover. Then I tripped along—"
"Not scared or anything?" from Nettie.
"Not a bit scared but mad as fury," declared Judith, "for there was old Sour Sandy at my heels taking such long and such big steps I felt every next foot would crush me into the brand new door mat."
"Poor Judy," soothed Jane. "And no one to say thee nay!"
"Say me nix," moaned Judith. "I would have had thee say other things than that. But to the tale. Have you ever seen a mouse run from a cat and a dog after the cat and a boy after the dog? You know that famous picture, I see. Well, when the messenger boy got away somewhere about Dol's establishment, and Sarah went next, then went Shirley and, Little Me, followed by that giant Sour Sandy! Well, girls, I have to admit that for a few minutes I couldn't see a thing but Dol Vin's eyes. She had me hypnotized," and Judith paused to make sure of the dramatic impression.
"I can see her glare!" declared Jane. "Dol's eyes were made for nobler tasks than matching hair shades."
"And mixing flesh tints," contributed Dozia, who just then managed to purloin a sample of the fudge.
"Are you girls sure that keyhole is sealed and the door still impregnable?" demanded Judith the narrator, with a sweeping glance about the room.
Winifred Ayres dropped to the door sill and spread herself across it while Dozia moved her chair to the jam in order to plank her shoulders over the keyhole.
"Air tight," announced Jane, "and every girl here is pledged, Judy.
You may proceed with absolute safety."
"The responsibility is yours, Jane, for we had an awful time for a brief interval under the doughty Dol's roof. Things flew—"
"Hair brushes and sponges?" prompted Janet, eager for sensation.
"Can't say as to the missiles," replied Judith, showing signs of relaxing into indifference, "but the way that black head yelled, and Sarah sobbed, and Shirley—I guess she shouted. I know her noise was next loudest to Sour Sandy's and that was some racket!"
"But what was it all about?" demanded Janet.
"About the precious box—jewelry or something valuable. When I saw the big boy take it from Tiny Tim and heard Tim yell, I knew there was mischief brewing if nothing worse, but I never expected to see Shirley Duncan jump into it. She aided and abetted the thief, for she caught that box on a fly and would have escaped if little Judy Stearns had not been right there Judy-on-the-spot."
"But why did old Sour Sandy lay hands on you?" asked Jane, somewhat bewildered by the maze into which Judith was leading her audience.
"Oh, there was such a perfectly wild time of it," replied Judith, "and of course Dol and Shirley had it all their own way—two to one, you know."
"But didn't—little Sarah try to help you?" pressed Jane.
"Little Sarah was having a fit out in the kitchen, and the black maid wanted to pour water over her, said she was in hysterics, only the word she used was somewhat impaired."
"What a perfectly rip-roaring time you must have had," commented Dozia, eyeing the fudge. "And I suppose you were taken in by Sour Sandy because you seemed easiest to convey to the Town Hall. Just like the old detective stories, arrest someone, anyone, and depend upon the evidence to do the rest."
"Yes, I was handiest, nearest the door and dry eyed. Besides, I kept kicking around on a jog trot all over the place because I could not make any other sort of noise. Honestly, girls, it was too funny for words!" and Judith doubled up in the pillows like a human jack- knife.
"I am suspicious, Judy Steams, that you tempted old Sour Sandy to do his worst; sort of defied him," suggested Jane, dragging a Columbia cushion from Judith's convulsed arms. "Did you really want to be arrested?"
"I did not!" shouted Judith, springing up straight and almost upsetting the entire scene. "It was Dol Vin who insisted that we Wellingtons were spoiling her business, interfering with her customers and—she said this—'now this creature actually tries to steal my parcels from a messenger boy!' Can you fancy that accusation on this poor head?"
"But you didn't have the box?" asked Janet.
"Certainly not. Dol knew that, but old Sandy didn't. I could easily have escaped when he ordered me to 'come along, girl,' but I knew to resist arrest might bring real trouble upon us, whereas now the whole thing is a farce, and whisper!" (she put her finger to her lips) "it must never be told of within this campus. News from the village rarely gets in here unless we bring it, and it would be a shame to worry prexy with that sort of thing. She would never understand it."
Applause, silent but visible, followed this. Heads were wagged, arms waved and even feet waggled in approval, but no unseemly sounds escaped the secret chamber.
"Never a word!" prompted Jane in a whisper with both hands uplifted.
"Never a word!" repeated the conclave in appropriate response.
"And that will be about all," finished Judith. "I am too tired to move but I can't allow you to carry me. No, don't, please" (no one had offered). "I'll just toddle along—it's lots better than keeping step with Sandy."
"But the treat," wailed Janet. "I have fudge and cheese sticks."
"Please deliver mine," drawled Judith. "I am unable to collect in person—I simply am—tired."
"And you should be," agreed Jane, glad that Judith had been wise enough to break up the party early. In fact Jane was not sure whether genuine fatigue or possible ghost hunts, had inspired the heroic Judy to leave that buzzing bevy of students. At any rate Janet counted out four squares of fudge and measured three ink wells of cheese tid-bits (the well was glass and only used for refreshments), all of which was folded in a paper napkin and handed to Jane.
"Sorry you must leave," murmured Janet, "but Judith has had a trying day. Come again and I'll treat you better."
"We had a perfectly lovely time," insisted Jane, "but I must put Judy to bed. She is apt to walk in her sleep when overtired. Come, dearie, toddle along. Good night, girls. Pleasant dreams," and those who were not too interested in the fudge and tid-bits responded appropriately.
"Oh," moaned Jane, when the two finally reached their own quarters, room 19, "wasn't that an ordeal?"
"Rather," replied Judith, kicking her shoes off. "How did I make out?"
"Wonderfully. You tied them all up in knots without leaving an end to follow. Neither clues nor climax—just a jumble of sounds, but thrilling for all that. I was so fearful they would ask more about the unfortunate Shirley but you veered them off beautifully. Now, Pally dear, tumble in, and I'll slip out and get Dozia. Lenox seems far away just now, and those babes are trembling while we dare to enjoy ourselves."
"Jane dear," interrupted Judith, "I do not believe you should risk going over there tonight. Really I am getting nervous of the whole thing."
"Just reaction," said Jane, her own eyes sparkling. "You have gone through enough today to give you nerves, and I want you to shut your eyes as soon as ever you can. After all I may just—do something else. Leave it to me and Dozia the Fearless. You know what a brave she can be in an emergency."
"And I know what a star you can be in a pinch. But Lenox at midnight—"
"Hush, dear, and let me put out your light. There, you will be asleep before the party winds up. There's the honor ring. Ten minutes more to all lights out. I love an honor system with a warning gong and an inspection. So complete."
Judith required little coaxing to enter dreamland, and when Jane heard Miss Fairlie's step in the hall, on that tripping little inspection tour, the light in room 19 was out.
Also, Jane under the coverlets was fully dressed for her ghost raid at Lenox Hall.
Miss Fairlie's step paused at the door! Jane tittered, but Judith breathed the regular tones of sleep.
For a moment it seemed the inspector would knock! She must want something!
Someone else came along the corridor and directly at that door they chose to whisper!
Jane felt her hour had come, but it was merely the fear of a troubled mind, for presently Miss Fairlie laughed lightly, and the pair journeyed on.
It was a full hour before the coast was safely clear for Jane's venture.
CHAPTER XII
A WILD NIGHT OF IT
It was a beautiful night, with the Hunter's Moon set high and bright in its ocean of flickering stars, like nothing else than moon and stars in the same old blue canopy, brocaded and embossed with incorrigible little gray clouds, ducking in and out of lacy paths and shadowy skyscapes.
Beneath, on Wellington campus, the dormitories stood up like tiny cottages here and there, the more important building, Madison Hall, towering pompously over the smaller flock. It was in Madison that Jane and Judith as juniors were housed, while over in a west corner grouped about the big walled entrance was, among the lesser landmarks, Lenox, one of the first erected of the Wellington buildings; quaint, roomy and just now decidedly "spooky."
The scene was fascinating in its silence, for only the dimmest of path lights seemed alive over the big place, and not a breath of wind stirred the tenacious oak leaves or other rugged foliage, too sparse to be counted, now that winter had given warning and was on his ruthless way.
The two figures creeping along like some elfin prowlers were Jane and Dozia, and they made straight through that bold moonlight for Lenox Hall.
"Doesn't it seem silly?" Jane took time to remark. "The very idea of expecting trouble on such a night."
"It's all your doing, Lady Jane," Dozia retaliated, "and if I don't see a ghost after all this I'll never forgive you."
"There was no guarantee, Dozia. But I did promise to appease the fears of those youngsters. What time is it?"
"When I left my nice cozy room for this, it was twenty minutes to twelve. I believe you were on time at the fire escape, so I would say it is now about ten minutes of. Hold my hand, Jane. This may be thrilling but it's awfully weird."
"Don't you like it? Look at that moon, and all the sparklers!"
"But think of those hedges, ugh! I'm wobbly at the knees already, and we're not half way across. Never knew a campus could be so— oceanic. I shall be striking out with my arms presently, feet seem unable to carry all the responsibility," and the tall girl cuddled into Jane's cape as far as the garment would accommodate her.
"You are not really nervous, Dozia the Fearless," Jane rebuked.
"Why, I'm just tingling with the spirit of adventure."
"You may, and the spirit of adventure is a lot more attractive than the spirits we're out gunning for. Do you expect to get off scot- free if you smash anything with that golf stick? What do you think Miss Rutledge will say?"
"I shan't bang unless there is nothing else to do, and then I'm sure I can explain. A Montana girl from a real ranch ought to have some credit for field work." Jane was twirling her capable brassie with rather a dangerous swing and the odd weapon now seemed formidable indeed.
"What's that?" exclaimed Dozia, as a shadow almost tripped them.
"It's an animal I know but—"
"A frightened little rabbit," replied Jane. "They have a lovely time when the thoughtless girls are safe behind doors. But, Dozia, honestly I think I do see something else—bigger than—a rabbit!"
Both girls stopped suddenly and drew back in the shadow of a tall lilac bush. They were well across the campus and now, at the end of the path, near the gate and not far from Lenox Hall, something moved in and out of the moonlit way. It seemed to cross from the big stone wall and glide into the grove of magnolia.
Jane dropped Dozia's arm and stepped out to peer after the shadow. They were scarcely near enough to hear footfalls even had the padding of leaves and heavy grass not actually deadened that possibility.
"Lively ghost!" she whispered. "Let's head it off through the grove."
"But, Jane, it may be some dangerous prowler—"
"How could he get in here? Besides we are protected." She had the golf club firm in her right hand and seemed to depend on it to lay ghosts or prowlers. "Come on, Dozia. Of course that is not a bona fide ghost but it may be the noise maker."
Dozia followed Jane, although she did hang on to an end of the blue cape and pulled back whenever the darkness seemed too uncertain of penetration. The little thickets of ornamental evergreens suddenly loomed up into proportions of veritable forests, and every baby Christmas tree was swelled out like a circular blue fir, thick and prickly.
But Jane headed straight as the foliage allowed, across the campus to the magnolia grove, where the eucalyptus trees shot up bare and leafless, ghostly, spectral in the searching moonlight.
A crisp snapping of some dry brambles sent out an alarm from the hedges close to Lenox Hall and the girls listened anxiously.
"Human," whispered Jane, "and rather dainty. Hardly a masculine foot to that light touch. Don't be alarmed, Dozia. We are two to one and evidently that other one is a female." She said this with assumed confidence, for she feared Dozia might turn and run at any moment.
They were almost in the little grove and it was between there and the boxwood that touched the side porch of Lenox that this hidden thing must be. Jane was by no means as brave as her carefree manner indicated, and every time she held a bush from brushing Dozia's face she took occasion to listen intently for vagrant noises.
Stumbling over low underbrush in their rubber soled tennis shoes was not like walking out in the open, and just as Dozia breathed a sigh of relief that the landscape gardening went no further, a wild scream, shrill and piercing, cut the night like an arrow!
Speechless, the girls stood terrified, while the wail seemed to linger suspended somewhere!
"Oh, what was it?" gasped Dozia, but Jane clung to her arm in silence.
The next instant a clanging of chains and rattling of metals broke out from Lenox Hall.
"Quick," exclaimed Jane, almost dragging her companion forward, "we must locate it, we must reach the dormitory!" But before they could even gain the pathway, the big fire bell pealed out its alarm and; suddenly every window in Lenox Hall blazed with light at a single flash—the answer of that electric button pressed by the matron, who now swung open the big oaken door and stood summoning her frightened charges to "come out" in the order of fire drill.
"Don't hurry, be calm!" she called out in the voice of authority, and by now the freshmen who lined the halls and stairways, had recovered their composure and even courage in the face of rescue.
Jane and Dozia rushed up to Miss Gifford, the matron, and asked about the outside alarm. At her word Jane jumped to the fire box, smashed the glass with her golf club and then turned the key.
By this time the students were outside the building, and in their night robes the seventy-five freshmen shivered from fear and exposure, while Miss Gifford, Jane and Dozia tried to reassure them.
"Where's the fire?" asked Jane, as the local brigade of volunteer citizens dashed in the grounds through the main gateway.
"Where is it?" demanded Miss Gifford of the students. There was no smoke, no blaze, not even an odor of things burning could be distinguished.
"It must have been in the big attic," someone said, "for it was the old brass bell that rang first."
"Who gave the alarm?" demanded the matron.
No one answered this, and the momentary pause was broken now by the wild rush of the fire department along the roadway.
First the hose cart, the "hook and ladder" jerked up to the porch where the girls waited, breathless but calmer now that men and means had come to their rescue.
"One side! One side!" shouted the chief, and to the credit of that department it must be said his men stretched their line of hose along from the hydrant and up those steps, even through the crowd of trembling students, in regular fire drill time. Jane stepped inside the hall and was sniffing audibly.
"Wait a minute!" she commanded. "We haven't located the fire yet and it may not be very much. The house is equipped with extinguishers," she informed the alert chief. "They may answer without water."
The rubber coated men held their hose high and were ready to shout in signal to the man at the hydrant, while Jane took the chief upstairs. He never spoke but tramped ahead as if a word would imperil the dignity of the Wide Awake Hose Company. Neither did Jane venture further remarks for she was "gunning" for the fire and thinking of ghosts!
Doors to right and left were promptly pushed open but no evidence of fire could be found.
"Try the attic," said the chief finally, "rubbish might catch from a flue."
At his order Jane turned into the narrow box stairway, lighted only by a flash in the hands of Chief Murry.
The actual panic of that yell and its subsequent fire alarm was now subsiding in Jane's mind, and instead of Fire the whole situation assumed an aspect of Ghosts. In spite of her courage she was very glad the chief was at her heels, and when she finally reached the last narrow step and stood under the rafters, Jane Allen sent a sweeping eye over that dark attic.
"Not here!" declared the fireman before she could see more than the inky blackness of the old garret, with only that one spot of moonlight pasted on the slanting roof by an invisible window.
As he turned Jane felt obliged to follow, although she would have been glad to go further in and see what it was that moved over by the patch of moonlight. Something did move—she was sure of that, but a fireman and a chief could not be asked to investigate anything but smoke or flame, and neither element was discernible, so she followed down the box stairway to confront the waiting brigade.
"Who pulled that box?" demanded Chief Murry, angrily.
"I did," replied Jane. "But the alarm came from within and the students were out before I did so."
"Well, there's no fire here!" he announced witheringly. "And you young 'uns better get indoors. Been in all the sheds and corners, Ben?" to his assistant.
"Every inch, and there being no kitchen here, 'tain't likely a fire would be tucked away in a closet, though we looked thoroughly. Queer how the thing happened."
Miss Gifford was now trying to march her charges back, but a good sized contingent refused flatly to comply with her orders. They answered her quietly but firmly.
"They would never sleep another night in Lenox Hall. If it wasn't haunted it was surely queer."
With the courage of juniors Jane and Dozia attempted to laugh the whole thing off, but the freshmen were determined.
"How did YOU get over here?" suddenly demanded little Nellie Saunders of Dozia. '"I thought it was a rule to stay in your own dorm when a first alarm fire gong sounded in another building?"
"'We were visiting," replied Jane so quickly Nellie thought the reply meant something, and was too absorbed in the crisis of the situation to further press her question.
"But you children will be ill!" wailed Miss Gifford helplessly. "You simply must come indoors."
"Come into the recreation room," insisted Jane. "We won't ask you to go back upstairs yet."
"We just wouldn't go," declared Daisy Blaire. "If I can't sleep in another cottage I shall telegraph mamma to come and take me home this very night or day, whichever it is."
This resolve met with hearty approval, for it was seconded from many quarters until open revolt or general mutiny seemed imminent.
The firemen were driving out with the jog trot of a false alarm, and ghosts or no ghosts, Jane, Dozia and Miss Gifford, each and all realized that those frightened children must be persuaded to go indoors. Their bare feet alone made the matter imperative, if bath robes did somewhat lessen the danger from a cold night's exposure.
The sudden tingling of the telephone shot another bolt of terror through them.
"There, that's the hall," said Miss Gifford. "At least make it possible for me to report you are all safe in Lenox."
Jane and Dozia wound arms around a few leaders and this with the matron's appeal firmly broke their deadlock and a thin stream of frowzy heads and pretty boudoir robes dripped into the old walnut hall.