Jane Allen, Junior / Bancroft, Edith

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Title: Jane Allen: Junior

Author: Edith Bancroft

Release Date: January, 2004 [EBook #4945]
[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
[This file was first posted on April 3, 2002]

Edition: 10

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JANE ALLEN: JUNIOR ***




Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.




Jane Allen: Junior

By

Edith Bancroft

Author of

"Jane Allen of the Sub-Team," "Jane Allen: Right Guard," "Jane
Allen: Center," Etc.


Illustrated by--Thelma Gooch




CONTENTS

CHAPTER

    I  THE GET-TOGETHER
   II  A SHADOW IN FORECAST
  III  THE MISFIT FRESHMAN
   IV  THRILLING NEWS
    V  THREATS AND DEFIANCE
   VI  JANE AND JUDITH
  VII  A QUEER MIX-UP
 VIII  TO THE RESCUE
   IX  WHAT HAPPENED TO JUDITH
    X  THE INTERLUDE
   XI  A TWICE TOLD TALE
  XII  A WILD NIGHT OF IT
 XIII  THE AFTERMATH
  XIV  PLEADING FOR TIME
   XV  THE PICKET AND THE SPOOK
  XVI  THE HIDDEN CHAMBER
 XVII  "BEHOLD THE GHOST OF LENOX HALL!"
XVIII  FAITHFUL FROLIC
  XIX  THE MIRACLE
   XX  TOUCHSTONE
  XXI  CRAMMING EVENTS
 XXII  STARTLING DISCLOSURES
XXIII  THE DANCE
 XXIV  KING PIN OF THE FRESHIES
  XXV  THE DAY AFTER THE BIG NIGHT
 XXVI  A SURPRISE IN RECORDS
XXVII  THE REAL STORY






CHAPTER I

THE GET TOGETHER.


The late September day waved back at Summer graceful as a child
saying goodbye with a soft dimply hand; and just as fitful were the
gleams of warm sunshine that lazed through the stately trees on the
broad campus of Wellington College. It was a brave day--Summer
defying Nature, swishing her silken skirts of transparent
iridescence into the leaves already trembling before the master hand
of Autumn, with his brush poised for their fateful stroke of
poisoned beauty; every last bud of weed or flower bursting in heroic
tribute, and every breeze cheering the pageant in that farewell to
Summer.

"If school didn't start just now," commented Norma Travers, "I
wonder what we would do? Everything else seems to stop short."

"I never saw shadows come and go so weirdly on any other first day,"
added Judith Stearns ominously. "I hope it doesn't mean a sign, as
Velma Sigbee would put it," and dark eyed Judith waved her arms
above her black head to ward off the blow.

"Is it too early to suggest science?" lisped Maud Leslie timidly.
"I've been reading about the possible change of climate and its
relation to the sun's rays going wild into space. I don't want to
start anything, but it might be judicious to buy more furs next
Summer. Also it might justify the premonitory fad."

"Don't you dare," warned Ted Guthrie, puffing beneath her prettiest
crocheted sweater and rolling down from her chosen mound on the
natural steps of the poplar tree slope. "It's bad enough to think of
icy days up here, far, far away from the happy laughing world of hot
chocolate and warm movie seats," and she rolled one more step nearer
the boxwood lined path, "but to tag on science, and insinuate we are
to be glazed mummies, ugh!" and the redoubtable Ted groaned a grunt
that threatened havoc to the aforesaid handsome sweater.

"There, there, Teddy dear, don't take on so," soothed Maud, rescuing
the other's new silver pencil that was rapidly sliding further away
from Ted with the pretty open hand bag. "I had entirely forgotten
how you despise ice sports. And you so lovely and fat for falling.
You should love 'em," insisted the studious Maud.

"Being fat isn't all it's----"

"Cracked up to be," assisted Judith Stearns. "I quote freely. That's
one of Tim Jackson's."

"Where have I heard the line before?" mimicked Theodosia Dalton,
otherwise Dozia the Fearless. "It has a chummy tone. All of which is
as naught to the question. Where is Jane? Never knew her to miss the
line up here. And I even tapped at her door. Judy, where is Jane?"
demanded Dozia.

"Am I my chum's keeper? Can't Jane attend to her own mortal baggage
without incurring the wrath of the multitude?" and Judith sprang up
from her spot on the leaf laden lawn. Also she cast a glance of
apprehension along the path where Jane Allen should at least now be
seen on her way. "Perhaps Jane feels we should forswear this moment
of mirth; being juniors and stepping aside from all the others. They
call it the Whisper you know; 'count of the whispering poplar
above," with a grandiose wave at the innocent tree. "But I would
much prefer a chuckle, wouldn't you Ted?"

"There you go again, or rather also," flung back the stout girl. "I
must take all the cracks and the chuckles and presently some naive
little freshie will amble along and ask me if I happen to be one of
the soap bubbles she just blew off her penny pipe," and the
pneumatic cheeks puffed out in bubble mockery.

"Now Teddy dear. Don't fret. Everyone is just jealous because you're
so lovely and comfy looking," appeased Nettie Brocton, the dimple
girl. "But I really do think this 'whisper' is awfully childish.
Rather makes the strangers feel we are whispering about them."

"If they only knew!" sighed Ted. "I am the usual back-stop for all
frivolity. But if it comes to giving up this lovely loafing hour
under our own grandmother poplar, I say girls, go ahead and knock,
but spare the whisper. I'd die if I had to go tramping around seeing
things and saying hello to that mob," with a sweeping wave of her
one free arm, the other was around Janet Clarke's waist.

"You are right, little girl, it is lovely to gather here and let the
others do the traipsing. And as for the whisper, anyone within sight
may also hear, for this is a shout rather than a whisper. The real
point is, we are gathered together while others are scattered apart.
But where is Jane Allen? I always look to her to start things, and
we can't stay here all day, alluring as is the grandmother poplar.
We have 'juties'; girls, 'juties'. "Dozia Dalton had risen to her
full height, which measured more feet and inches than her latest
kitchen door records verified, and her hair now wound around her
head like a big brown braided coffee cake, added a few more inches,
in spite of all the flat pinning Dozia took refuge in. It may be
attractive to be tall and slender, but somehow old Dame Nature has a
way of keeping her pets humble. She loves to exaggerate.

The girls were grouped around the gnarled roots of the big tree. As
had been their custom this contingent managed to escape the hum and
confusion of the "first day" just long enough to whisper hello and
buzz a few unclassified other words. Rooms and corridors were in
commotion; the campus was like a bee farm, and it was only over in a
remote corner, where a poplar and three hemlock trees formed a
protective fortress, that the girls were safe from the first day's
excitement.

"I left Jane heading for the office and her head was down,"
announced Inez Wilson finally. "She didn't see me and her head being
down, of course meant----"

"Trouble," finished Katherine Winters. "When Jane Allen goes forward
with her red head in advance there is sure to be a collision. What's
up? Who knows?"

"Come along and find out," promptly suggested Winifred Ayres. "Can't
tell what we're missing. Jane may have lifted the roof when she
raised her head."

"Poor old roof," commented Ted Guthrie, dragging Janet Clarke down
to earth again in her own attempt at rising. "I suppose we may as
well fall in line," she continued good-naturedly. "Janie is still
the idol of the mob; anyone can see that, even at this early date,"
and with a girl tugging on either side the stout one finally heaved
ahoy!

"'Tain't that," corrected Inez recklessly, "it's just because we are
all too lazy to do the things we know Jane will do. I have been
reading up on psychology, and you may now expect me to spoil every
dream of childhood with a reason why," and Inez threw her head up
prophetically.

"Alluring prospects this year," groaned Velma Sigsbee. "What with
Maud gone scientific, and Inez turned psychologist and Jane Allen
traveling with her head down--well, all I can say is I still take
two lumps of sugar in my tea." Velma was just that way, a pretty
girl who loved sugar in spite of restrictions, high prices and the
written word.

A solitary figure was now outlined against the low cedars curled
around Linger Lane. It was Jane at last.

"Here she comes! Here she comes!" announced Nettie Brocton. "And
look, girls! she isn't even whistling. Something is wrong with our
sunny Jane."

There was no mistake about it, something was wrong, for Jane Allen
swung along the path, calling greetings to friends grouped in knots
and colonies with an evident half heartedness foreign to her usual
buoyant, cheerful personality.

Espying her own contingent on the poplar slope she threw her arms
out in a reckless, boyish sort of gesture to give force to the
"Hello girls!" she called, but even that was much too mild for Jane.

"We were in despair," began Judith, Jane's particular friend and
school-long companion. "Janie dear, why the clouds? What's up? Let
us know the worst, do. We are fortified now, whereas in an hour
hence we may be weak from interviews with the new proctor. Sit down
Jane. We just rose to go in search of you, and by my new watch I see
there is still time before the hour to report. There," and the
little spot cleared for Jane in the semi-circle was now covered with
a pretty plaid skirt, "do tell us. You really look worried,"

"Not really?" contradicted the gray eyed Jane. "Worried, and on our
very first lovely day? You surely wrong me!" she tried to get her
arms around more girls than even finger tips might touch. "I'm
simply bubbling with joy, as I should be. I was detained in the
office longer than I wanted to stay, and you all know how mean it is
to have to sit on one particular chair facing the desk while a lot
of new girls ask a larger lot of foolish questions. Perhaps that
made me a little cross, but do forgive me. I wouldn't spoil this
initial hour for worlds. Please tell me everything in one breath. I
am just dying to hear."

No one answered. Ted Guthrie did gurgle a bit, and Velma Sigsbee
threw a handful of leaves in Nettie Brocton's hair, but the pause
was a riot. Why should Jane deceive them? Cross from delay in the
busy office indeed, as if she would not have bolted out and left the
whole room to the nervous new students! The girls looked from one to
the other and finally Judith Stearns saved the situation by
proposing that the juniors line up to help the seniors show
newcomers about the grounds. On this day at least, class lines were
forgotten at Wellington.

"We were just waiting for you Janie," she declared adroitly, "and
Mildred Manners has been whoo-hooing her lungs out across the
campus. Come along girls, and see you don't waylay all the
millionaires. I hear every garage in the village is bursting with
classy cars, and the livery stable can't take another single
boarder. Ted, you take Velma and Maud, and be careful not to divulge
any club secrets; Janet, you tag along with Winifred and just gush
to death over that timid little blonde who seems to have a whole bag
full of hand made handkerchiefs for weeps. Jane, may I have the
honor of your company?"

Judith's black eyes looked into Jane's gray orbs that asked and
answered so many questions.

"Thanks, Judy," said Jane aside. "You're a dear. Let's go and do the
honors."

The next moment Wellington grounds rang with shouts and laughter,
and the voice of Jane Allen defied the criticism her pretty face had
so lately invited.

"It's perfectly all right," she assured Judith, but the latter stuck
her chin out in contradiction.

"Can't fool me, Janie," she whispered between handshakes and
greetings. "But I'll wait till the picnic winds up. Did you ever see
so many new girls? Has some college burned down since last year?"

"No, love, but our reputation has gone forth. This is a glorious day
for Wellington and, Judy Stearns, it is going to be a glorious year
for us. We are still juniors!" and Jane trailed off to find her
place in the long line that was automatically forming around the
great old elm. An extension course in special work kept Jane with
her junior friends.

"Wellington, dear Wellington!" rang out the then famous strain in
hundreds of silvery voices. The college song was echoed from every
hill into every grass lined hollow, and if the new girls doubted the
spirit of comradeship they were to be favored with there, the
consecration brought it home to them, like strong loving arms
stretched out in the sea of school day mysteries.

It was hours later, when the pattering of feet in the long corridors
died down to a mere trail of sound, that Jane and Judith managed to
pair off for a confidential chat.

"You have got to tell me," demanded Judith.

"As if I wouldn't," replied Jane.

"You can't blame us for being curious, Janey. This afternoon was
almost a failure, just because your eyes had a faraway look."

"I'm so sorry, really, Jude. What an abominable temper I must have."

"We all know better than that girlie." Judy might now have been
charged with harboring a faraway look herself.

"Just give me a little time," smiled Jane, "and if there's anything
on my conscience I'll gladly transfer it to yours."

The look in both gray and brown eyes was suddenly changed to
intimacy. It was no longer faraway.




CHAPTER II

A SHADOW IN FORECAST


I thought everyone had been supplied with the anti-tack hammer
circular," remarked Jane, falling back where Judith's cushions ought
to be. "Just hear that tattoo over in the wing. I'll bet it's
Dozia."

"She has a collection of movie queens and I doubt not that is the
official coronation. Let us hope the new proctor is deaf on the
left, Dozia's room leans that way," replied Judith. Then she tossed
a couple of sweaters at Jane's head. "Put those under your ears
dear," she ordered, "my pillows aren't unpacked yet and you may find
Neddie's last year tacks in that burlap. There now, you look almost
human. But the wistful whimper lingers. Jane, what has happened? You
are simply smothered in the soft pedal. Tell your Judy all about
it," she cooed.

Feet stretched out straight in front of her and arms ending with
finger tips laced over her black head, Judith looked longer than she
really needed to measure up or down. Also, she looked too stiff to
be comfortable, but the wooden pose was Judith's favorite. She
rested that way, defying every known law for relaxation. Jane, au
contraire, was curled up like a kitten, with one red sweater balled
under her ruffled head and the other blue one tangled about her slim
ankles. Both girls were tired--justly so, for the opening day at
Wellington was ever a time of joyous activity, and the day just
closed had roared and yelled itself into an evening still vibrant
with bristling energy, tack hammers and movie pictures smashing
rules and regulations, until the night gong sounded its irrevocable
warning. Then roommates paired off even as did Jane and Judith.

"Has anything happened to your baggage?" prompted Judith, as her
companion failed to confide.

Jane teased one small worsted tassel of Judith's blue sweater free
from its tangle with her shoe lace, then she poked her dimpled chin
forward saucily.

"Can't ever have a secret, I suppose, Pally dear," she mocked the
girl sliding slowly but surely out of her chair. "But I don't mind.
Shows how truly you love me. There, you will feel better on the rug.
I knew you were coming." Judith had landed.

"I believe I'll sleep here," declared Judith, one end of the
international carpet sample was bunched up under her ear. "Never was
so tired on any other first or last day." The long legs shot out
straight again. "And if your secret is really thrilling Janie, pray
keep it for a more auspicious occasion. I am apt to snore when I
should groan, or even sneeze when I should----" A choking spasm
interrupted. "Don't tell me to take quinine, Janie. This is the end.
I have had it since August and it is due to depart now, exactly
now." A couple of sneezes added punctuation to this.

"But get up from that floor instantly," ordered the girl on the
divan. "Nothing worse for colds than rag carpet rugs. There's plenty
of room up here out of drafts. Come, lovey. Do try to curl up some.
I always fear you will break up in splinters when I see you go
wooden."

"Too comfy, Dinks, I can't move."

"Sneeze then and I'll catch you. You have just got to get up off
that chilly floor somehow. Besides the oil may be contagious. It
still smells gooey."

"Anything for peace. Give me a lift. There," Judith hung over the
edge but Jane held on to the black head. "It's not so safe as the
floor but I suppose it is more prophylactic. Now I will sleep. The
girls seem to have died down. Strange"--yawn and groan--"how they do
love to fuss up the rooms."

"Temperment, my dear. Dozia wouldn't sleep a wink with her
photograph gallery unhung. What do you think of the crowd this year?
Spot any stars?"

"A couple. Did you see that beauty with the shiny gold hair? The one
who stood under the hemlock alone during the cheering? Isn't she
tragically pretty?"

"Exactly that. One couldn't help seeing her, although she struck me
as being shy."

"Scared to death, and so unconscious of her charms. There Janie, my
brain is sound asleep this moment. If I say real words they must be
coming from another world. This is gone." Judith ducked deeper into
the pillowless couch. She plainly was sleepy.

"Why Judith Stearns," called Jane severely, "you are giving me as
much trouble as a baby. Don't you dare fall asleep. We have got to
make beds yet. That comes of your notion not to have ready-to-wear
beds in our suite. And you can just see how much fun it is to drag
things out on tired nights." Jane sprang up from the divan and tried
to yank the sleepy girl after her. "Come on, Pally," she implored.
"I'll do most all the fixing, only I really demur at the disrobing.
You know my hatred for buttons and fastenings. I wouldn't leave one
snap to meet its partner. Come on Judy," the feet were again on the
rug, "we will be simply dead in the morning, and we have got to be
very much alive. We do miss the Weatherbee. I don't see why we let
her go. Dear, prim, prompt Weatherbee! Now we know we loved her. Her
successor is too young to be motherly."

"Jane Allen, you're a pest," groaned Judith. "I can't hear a thing
but words, and I suppose you are calling me names. Who's this guy
Bed, I heard you mention? Lead me to her," and whether the collapse
was assumed or real Judith rolled over twice and once more stretched
out on the long runner at Jane's feet.

"Have it your own way. Stay there if you insist and sneeze your head
off, but I'm going to bed," decided Jane helplessly.

"That's the girl. Her name is Bed. I want to meet her. Heard so much
about her. Jane dear introduce me, there's a dar--link," Judith
muttered.

"Someone is coming and I just hope it is Prexy or Proxy. I'll open
the door wide as I can," declared the outraged Jane.

She stepped over the long girl but even the tap on the door did not
disturb Judith.

"It's I--are you up, Jane?" The voice came as the tap subsided.

"Yes Dozia. Come along in. I can't get Judy to bed. Just look at
her!"

"Poor child," commiserated Dozia, surveying the figure on the floor
very much as a policeman looks upon an ambulance case. "We ought to
help her. Is the day bed translated?"

"Yes, I got it ready. But Judy won't undress," Jane protested.

"Why need she? If I ever slept like that I would murder a disturber.
Just get hold of that rug Janie, and we'll dump her into bed."

Judith was actually sleeping when the two compassionate friends
picked up the rug, hammock fashion, and proceeded to "dump her into
bed." She never moved voluntarily. Judith Stearns knew a good thing
when it came her way, and what could be better than this?

"She'll ruin her skirt," suggested Jane as they drew the rug out
from under the blue accordion pleats.

"What's a mere skirt compared with that?"

Dozia stood aside to admire the unconscious Judy, but striking a
statuesque pose she caught the critical eye of Jane and was rewarded
with a most complimentary smile.

"Where did you get that wonderful robe, Dozia?" Jane asked. "You
simply look like--like some notable personage in those soft folds
and with your hair down. What a pity we must make ourselves ugly to
be conventional."

"Ain't it now," mocked Dozia, abusing language to make comedy. She
swung the velveteen folds about her and spun around to wind them
tighter. "Like this? Do I resemble a movie queen? That's what
brought me, Janie. This nocturnal visit is consequent upon a
disaster. My hammer, the one I put my queens up with, fell through
the mirror. Silly little hammer. You know how this house staff feels
about breaking looking-glasses."

"Yes, spoils the set of course. You are not insinuating anyone here
might be superstitious? I am awfully sorry you broke the mirror. How
did it happen?"

"Sissh!" Dozia sibilated, pointing to Judith who had actually turned
over. "Don't wake her, this really is a secret. Girlie," dragging
Jane down into a chair, "have you noticed that ugly, fat, common
country girl, with the wire hair and gimlet eyes? Well, she came in,
pushed her way in really, and squatted down plumb in my best
Sheraton chair. The size of her!" (This with seething indignation.)
"I was so provoked--why, Jane, what is the matter? You are
frightened or nervous or something. Have you seen a ghost anywhere?"
broke off Dozia.

"Oh no, but I am so tired," Jane edged away from the suspector.
"After all I do believe Judy is sensible, see her slumber."

"Jane Allen, you are a fraud," pronounced the girl in the velveteen
robe. "You are smothering some mystery and I must have stepped on
the spring," guessed the inquisitive caller. "Was it the tack hammer
or the spindle chair or the fat girl? Not she, you have had no
chance to do uplift work yet. Land knows that farmer will need your
greatest skill, but dear, don't waste it on her. She's incurable."

"Bad as all that?" asked Jane colorlessly. "But what happened? You
did not try to hit her with the hammer I hope?"

"I didn't try to hit her, I did hit her. It fell accidentally on her
fat head and she tossed it through the mirror. Now what can a girl
do in a case like that?"

The haunted look, so foreign to the face of Jane, shaped itself
again.

"Is she--did you hurt her?"

"I hope so," dared Dozia. "It would be a charity to send her home.
Her name is Shirley Duncan and she's from some country town. But
Jane, if she gets really horrid, I mean more horrid than she is now,
I want you to stand by me. That's what I came for."

"All right Dozia," said Jane, "but I hope it won't have to go as far
as that."

"Me too," responded the carefree Dozia. "But there's no telling what
Shirley may do."

For some moments after Dozia glided out Jane stood there, her gray
eyes almost misty.

"Of all the tragedies!" she was thinking. Then with a jerk she
pulled herself up. "But I guess I can handle it," she declared
finally, and when she succeeded in rousing Judith no one would have
suspected anything new amiss.

Jane Allen might have worries but they could not dominate her. Sunny
Jane, with sunny hair and gray eyes, was no mope. It would take
fight to conquer this new condition, she realized, but Jane could
fight, and her dreams on this first night back in college were
strangely confused with school-day battles.

More than once she awoke with a start, as if some danger were
impending, and a sense of uneasiness possessed her. Each time it
seemed more difficult to fall back into slumber, and all this was
new, indeed, to happy Jane.

"Daddy!" she murmured. "It's because of daddy's----"

She was finally sound asleep.




CHAPTER III

THE MISFIT FRESHMAN


Yes, they were back in college and work was waiting. This thought
invaded confused brains and stood out like a corporal of the guard,
shouting orders into lazy ears on Wellington campus next morning.

Jane Allen threw first one slipper and then another at Judith
Stearns' bed across the room from her own. But still Judith's hand
ignored the hair brush on the chair at her elbow.

"Judy," called Jane, "the warning bell has warned. Turn down the
corner on that dream and wake up." Each word of this climbed a note
in tone until the last was almost a shout. Then Judith's hand moved
to Jane's slipper on her own (Judith's) forget-me-nots, the little
floral pieces that adorned a very dainty garment with the embroidery
on Judith's chest--arms and neck ignored in the pattern.

"What say?" she muttered sleepily.

"Up," answered Jane. "Ever hear that little word before?"

"Yep, pony riding," drawled Judith. "Up, up, one, two, three, go!"
and at this Judith sprang up with such vigor and volume (in point of
scope) that she sprang over the neighboring bed and swooped down on
Jane's hat box! Her black hair now fell fearlessly over the
embroidered forget-me-nots, and her bare feet shot in their usual
skating strike.

"Good thing that hat box is the new kind," commented Jane, "but even
at that it will hardly serve as a divan. Still, I am glad you are
up. Do you know where you are, Judy Stearns? And what you are
expected to do today?"

"All of those things and additional horrors are seething through my
poor brain," moaned Judith, "but a moment ago I was having a fast
set of tennis with adorable Jack St. John--Sanzie they call him.
Have I told you about him, Jane darling?" Judith gathered herself
and her feet up from the black enameled box and glided over to her
own corner.

"No, Judy, I do not recall Sanzie," replied Jane, who was already
armed with soap and towel for the lavatory. "But keep the story. I
shouldn't like to get interested in boy tennis just now. We must
forget--" proclaimed Jane in tones so dramatic a poet calendar on
the wall trembled in the vocal waves. "Forget! forget----" and Jane
was outside the door with a sweeping wave of her big fuzzy towel and
a rather alarming thrust of her fist full of soap.

"Ye-eah," groaned Judith, "forget is the word, Sanzie and tennis."
She glanced at the tiny clock on a shelf of the bracket type. It was
Jane's idea the clock should not be cluttered with surroundings.

"Gee-whiz! It is late, and this the first day. Glad the others on
this corridor are all nice and punctual."

In bathrobe and slippers Judith soon followed Jane down the long
hall. Neither dallied long in the plunge, for Judith was wide awake
now, and presently, after dressing and patting herself and
belongings into place, she confronted Jane with this: "I heard Dozia
Dalton last night. And I know there will be trouble about the farmer
girl. Jane, tell me, is she the scholarship?"

"Yes," almost gasped Jane the irreproachable. "And to think that I,
in any way, should be responsible for bringing her to college!"

"But you are not, Janie dear," soothed Judith. "That your father
should give this college a scholarship each year is a noble thing,
and how can you tell who may win it? That girl is--well, a bit raw,"
she ground her mouth around the word, "but we have nothing to do
with that. She doesn't belong among the juniors, and just leave it
to little Judy to steer her off. Don't go trying any uplift; just
cut her dead and watch her wilt. From the ashes there may arise a
nice little green thing, even if it is of the common garden variety
of onion. Now Jane, you have got to do exactly that. Keep Shirley
Duncan on her own grounds. Shoo her out of junior haunts."

"You are right, Judy. I have been tortured with the idea that I
would have to play fairy godmother to that--that 'hoodlum.'
Honestly, did you ever see so ordinary a girl in Wellington?"

"Never. But then she may be a genius. I have read such descriptions
of them. There's the first breakfast bell. Smile now and disappoint
the horde. They think you have been crossed in love and the old maid
depression has settled upon you. You acted that way yesterday,"
teasingly.

Jane's laugh pealed out at this. It was like ragging a down scale,
that rippling crescendo, and Judith needed no other assurance of her
friend's good humor.

But the day's tasks left little time for trifles. College work is
serious and exacting, each day's programme being carefully and even
scientifically marked out to make the round year's schedule
complete. Jane and Judith, juniors, with a reputation made in their
previous years, "buckled" down to every period with that
intelligence and determination for which both had been credited.

Everything was so delightful and the autumn air so full of promise!
Jane could not find a true reason for the haunting fear that seemed
to follow her in the person of that crude country girl, who somehow
had won the Alien scholarship.

It was in free time late the next afternoon that this fear took
definite shape. Jane and her contingent were leaving the study hall
when Shirley Duncan brushed up through their arm linked line.

She was garbed in a baronet satin skirt of daring hue with an
overblouse of variegated georgette. This as a school frock! At first
glance Jane almost recoiled, then the possibility of delayed baggage
suggested itself and softened her frown.

"Don't notice her," whispered faithful Judith.

Jane's glance just answered when the unpopular freshman broke
through the line, grasped Jane's hand and deliberately forced a
folded slip of paper into it. Then, with a mocking smile that ran
into an audible sneer, she turned and sped away. Her awkward gait
and frank romping so close to Wellington Hall brought questioning
glances from the line of juniors.

"What's that, Jane Allen?" asked Janet Clarke good-naturedly. "I
hope you are not doing uplift for anything like that this year?"

"The merry little mountain maid," mocked Inez Wilson, doing a few
skips and a couple of jumps in demonstration.

"How on earth did she ever make Wellington?" demanded the
aristocratic Nettie Brocton, disapproval spoiling her leaky dimples.

"Girls, you are horrid!" declared Judith to the rescue. "You all
know the freaks love Jane. It's her angel face," and Judith
playfully stroked the cheek into which streaks of bright pink
threatened admission of guilt--that Jane really knew the uncouth
country girl.

"She's a stranger to me," said Jane truthfully, "but in spite of
that I must respect her confidence." The crumpled note was thereat
securely tucked into the pocket of Jane's blouse.

Winifred Ayres tittered outright, but the advent of Dozia Dalton
furnished a welcome interruption.

"Girls," she panted, "what ever do you think? Dol Vincez, our
dangerous adversary of last year, runs the beauty shop beyond our
gate! Can you comprehend the audacity?"

"We can when you say Dolorez," replied Jane. "Do you actually mean
to say she has set up the College Beauty Shop at our very door?"

"She has!" declared the excited Dozia. "Who would dare trust a live
and workable phiz to that--traitor?"

"Not I," said Velma Sigsbee.

"Nor I," from Maud Leslie.

"My face must serve me this term," added Inez Wilson, twisting her
features to make sure they worked well.

"All the same," demurred Judith, "the temptation is not to be
laughed at. Just imagine real dimples speared in," with a finger
poked in Maud Leslie's cheek, "and long silky lashes tangles in
one's violet gaze----" This was too much even for staid juniors and
the race that followed almost justified Shirley's much criticised
romp. With this difference: Wellington Hall was now out of the
shadows made by the swaying stream of laughing students darting in
and out of the autumn sunshine that lay like stripes of panne velvet
on the sward, but Shirley's run had begun at the very steps.

Recreation had its limits and that day was counted lost into which a
race over the pleasure grounds had not been crowded. It might be for
tennis, or even baseball, or yet to the lake, but a run was
inevitable. And so they ran.




CHAPTER IV

THRILLING NEWS


Did you read your note, Dinksy?" Judith asked Jane, using the
particular pet name adopted because of its very remote distance from
the original.

"You know I did, Pally." This was from Pal, of course.

"A bomb threat?"

"Not quite." Jane's hair was rebellious this morning and just now
received a real cuffing at its owner's hands.

"How perfectly peachy you would look bobbed, Dinksy. That color and
those smooth silky curls! How the angels must have loved you. Know
this line?

  "'Methinks some cherub holds thee fair,
    For kissing down thy sunny hair
    I find his ringlets tangled there!'"

"You would," interrupted Jane sacrilegiously. "More than his
ringlets tangled here this morning," with a final jab of the
strongest variety of golden bone hair-pin. "Aunt Mary always said my
mood (she meant temper) affected my hair. And I am sure she was
always right about it."

"Well, you don't have to tell me about the note if you don't want
to, Janie," pouted Judith. "But my idea is, you need counsel and I
am as ever the expert."

"Fair Portia, thou shalt be my counsel ever. I had no thought of
hiding the little note," insisted Jane, "but it is horribly
disappointing. Wait until I rescue it from the basket. There's
always a charm about the original."  "Don't bother, please, Jane,"
begged Judith. "We are almost late and I hope for a set of tennis
before class. I need it every day to keep off the heartbreak.
Darlink Sanzie," she sniffled. "To think he will nary again bat a
ball in my black eye."

"Why never again? There are other vacations."

"But no more Jacks like Sanzie. He is unique and has opened a law
office by now. Can't you see his stenographer kicking his shapely
shins as he dictates? They always do that in the movies, and Sanzie
is so up to date, even as to shins. Now, Janie dear, let's along. En
route you may tell me about the bomb threat. The corridors are
clear."

"She simply wants a chance to talk to me, that's all----"

"But she can't have it," declared Judith. "As your counsel I forbid
it. Just give that girl a chance and she will bind you over, body
and soul; refined blackmail, you know. Don't you dare answer that
note until I dictate the reply," Judith swung her arm around Jane's
waist in the most all-embracing manner. "Please, Dinksy," she almost
whispered, "wait until we are free this afternoon."

Thus they separated; Judith for her tennis and Jane for a turn on
Bowling Green.

But Jane had a deeper problem to solve than even her chum suspected.
There was the broken mirror in Dozia's room and the fact that Dozia
had actually hit Shirley on the head with a hammer!

"A pretty record that--and made on the first night in college," Jane
reflected.

Undoubtedly the freshman's demand that Jane "see her at once" had to
do with the outrage. And the interview would be granted, of course,
that very afternoon unless Judith interfered.

Incidentally Judith was turning the situation over in her own good-
natured mind.

"I would just like to see that gawk get Jane wound up in her
miseries," she told herself, while Janet Clarke hunted for stray
tennis balls in the hedge. "Jane is such a dear with sympathy that
this girl's very crimes would appeal to her--in compassion. No-sir-
ree!" She volleyed a vicious ball--"Jane will not see the impossible
Shirley alone just yet."

Meanwhile news of Dolorez Vincez's Beauty Shop had spread over the
college like a holiday notice. Dolorez was the South American girl
who had been expelled from Wellington the previous year because of
irregularities in many things but particularly in basket ball games.
As told in the book, "Jane Allen: Center," this young lady was
really a teacher of athletics, and had been posing as an amateur.
Being forced to leave college after opening a prohibited beauty shop
she vowed vengeance, and many of the students now felt the Beauty
Parlor, opened at the very gates of Wellington and widely
advertised, was about to assume the dangers of a golden spider web.

The girls were fairly quivering with excitement, when Dozia Dalton,
herald of the sensation, condescended to tell everybody all she knew
about the whole thing.

Velma Sigsbee would insist upon interrupting with silly questions,
such as the price of a bob or the possible pain of operating for
double dimples, but eventually Dozia told the story while Ted
Guthrie held Velma's hand in a compelling grip. It was over on the
long low bench by the ball field where practice should have been
kicking up a dust. But Dol's Beauty Parlor outrage was too
delectable to forego even for a final ball game,

"It's perfectly darling," confided the idolized Dozia (any girl with
that story on her person would be idolized although Dozia was
individually popular). "The place, I mean. It's fitted up----"

"Were--you in?" gasped Winifred Ayres.

"No, of course I was not in," disdained Dozia. "No one who ever knew
the trickery of Dolorez Vincez would enter that place."

"Why?" asked the innocent Nettie Brocton. "Would she really do
something dreadful----"

"She would, really," declared Jane, her tone not easy to interpret.
"She could turn your hair a bright red like mine by mere chemical
action of her ventilating system."

"Really!" implored the dimply girl.

"Pos-i-tive-ly!" declared Jane. "But don't attempt it dear. She
would send your dad an awful bill for doing a stunt like that. Think
of the price of hair like mine!"

That suggestion brought disaster to Jane, for Ted Guthrie swayed at
the very end of the bench and the whole line almost went over
backwards. It was in Ted's attempt to punish Jane for her vanity
that the sudden sweep, like a current in physics, jerked feet from
the ground and upset balance generally. Some seconds elapsed (and
each was precious) before things again settled down, including
Velma's crochet balls, Janet's book, pad, and pencil, Dozia's small
bottle of salted peanuts as well as other sundries and supplies.

"Please finish the yarn," implored Nettie Brocton. "Do tell us,
Dozia, how the place is fitted up."

"First tell us, please," insisted judicial Judith, "how do you know
how it is fitted up? Does our plumber plumb there?"

During all this nonsense Jane cast many a furtive glance along
Linger Lane, expecting the obnoxious Shirley to loom up large and
lanky by the way, but as yet she had not darkened the shadowy path.
If Jane could run off to the Rockery, that landmark between freshman
and later college campus lines, there to meet and have done with the
demands of her erstwhile tormentor. But no, Judith was openly
demanding Jane's concentration on the bench, and every point made by
Dozia in her tale of the beauty shop Judith flung at Jane in direct
challenge for stricter attention. She was not going to escape if
Judith Stearns knew it, and she surmised the intention.

It had finally been told to tingling ears that the poisoned beauty
shop, as Winifred Ayres, the writer, had already dubbed the place,
was done in wonderful mirrors, and shiny faucets, windy wizzing hair
fans and electric permanent wavers and curlers; and when the full
description had been given, more girls than one sighed, groaned and
grumbled.

"To think it has to be taboo," spoke Ted Guthrie. "Dol was always a
wizard, and now thus equipped she might have a lovely way of fanning
me thin."

"And fattening me nice and fluffy with the same fan," sighed
Winifred.

"My freckles might float away like powder from the butterfly's
wings," with a weird fluttering of Dozia's long arms.

"But hair!" exclaimed Judith. "Think of turning me into a golden
blonde with eyes like blue-bells under dewiness----"

"It cannot be! It cannot be!" moaned Dozia. "Instead we must raid
the place and banish the traitor. How about that for stunt night
with the sophs?"

"Wonderful!" sang out Juliette De Puy. She had listened and waited
with a certain reserve for which this capable Juliette was famous,
but now that the story was told she deigned to add that one word
"wonderful." Everyone looked at her suddenly.

"And have you tell the sophs," blurted out Nettie Brocton. "Dozia
Dalton you have spoiled it all. Didn't you see we had company?"

"Never noticed the lovely Juliette. Never mind Julie, you may tell
the crowd all you've heard," condescended the redoubtable Dozia. "We
enjoyed having you and it is perfectly all right."

"Thanks. Come over to our camp some night and I'll do as much for
you. I just came in this afternoon, you know, to sub on the ball
team."

"Instead of which you subbed on the gossip club," finished Jane,
jumping up. "I've got to go back to my room. Don't let me hurry
anyone," she said indifferently. Then, just as a strange figure
turned from the big boxwood bumper into the lane, Jane escaped.

She hurried to meet Shirley Duncan.




CHAPTER V

THREATS AND DEFIANCE


The girl approaching was not so easy to appraise as her unusual
costume proclaimed her to be. Jane realized this; country girls are
apt to make such mistakes, and even dinner gown tags on school day
togs would hardly be proof positive of inferiority, Jane reflected.

Shirley Duncan swung along with a careless stride, but even the pose
might cover embarrassment. Jane sent a welcome smile out to meet her
and the stranger jerked her head rather saucily in recognition.

"Have I kept you waiting?" asked Jane in the best of humor.

"Well, rather," replied the freshman, "but I knew better than to
break in on that crowd," with an arm sweep toward the ball field.
"Can we go up to your room for a few minutes?"

Jane thought quickly. To go to her room might mean an interruption
from Judith; also it might mean the danger from an undisciplined
voice.

"I have been indoors so much today," she replied, "and our lovely
days are flying so, suppose we go over to the rose summer house? We
won't be interrupted there and we will both have the benefit of a
longer time out of doors. I suppose you feel it, freshmen usually
do." They were moving toward the rustic house that looked rather
desolate in its coat of faded rose leaves.

"Oh, freshmen feel everything, I suppose," replied the other, "but I
can't see why we should be openly abused for all that. I heard there
was no more hazing allowed in colleges?"

"We have never hazed at Wellington," Jane said rather indignantly,
"and Miss--Miss Duncan, I am sure no one will ever attempt the least
abuse even in a spirit of fun at this college."

"They won't, eh?" type broke out in that challenge. "Well, that is
just what I wanted to see you about. I suppose I'm not good enough
to go to your rooms." Lip curled, nostrils quivered and head jerked
up impertinently with that accusation.

"Why, Miss Duncan--" floundered Jane.

"Why don't you call me Shirley? Isn't that a swell enough name?"
interrupted the other.

Jane dropped down on the summer house seat with a thud. Here was a
problem surely. Antagonism fairly blazed in the girl's dark eyes.
Yet she was a stranger--actually Jane's guest.

"Shirley is a very sweet name and I have always loved it," replied
Jane frankly. "But my dear young lady, we must not quarrel. We shall
never get acquainted that way."

"Oh no, the juniors may do all the quarreling. We freshies must just
turn the other cheek of course. But I suppose you know that long
lanky friend of yours, they call some foolish name like Doses, hit
me on the head with her hammer the other night?"

"You mean Dozia Dalton--yes, she told me her hammer slipped--"

"Slipped indeed!" more scorn and lip curling. "She deliberately
dropped it on my head--"

"And you threw it at the mirror," broke out Jane, weary of acting
the angel without gaining the slightest return from this rude girl.

"Yes, I broke it and I'm glad of it! Now what are you going to do
about it?" Two hands not really pretty, dug deep into the satin
skirt pockets, and Shirley Duncan towered over Jane Allen defiantly.

"What am I going to do about it?" repeated Jane. But the irony was
lost on her companion. "You did not ask to see me just to be
offensive?" parried Jane.

"No indeed, I wanted to remind you I am in this college because your
father gave a scholarship, and I suppose that would mean you might
be nice to me at least."

"I'm sure I want to be," Jane quickly toned down. "But no girl can
make friends with another when she insists on quarreling. I am
willing to pay for the broken mirror--"

"You don't need to trouble yourself; if it is to be paid for I'll do
it myself. My folks wouldn't let me--sponge on anybody."

"Sponge," repeated Jane, frowning with something like disgust.
"Please don't use such horrible slang."

"Oh my! I suppose a scholarship girl must be a mouse or a kitten.
Well, when I took it I understood no one in Wellington was to know
about it and that the scholarship girl had equal rights with every
other girl."

"So she has and no one here does know who wins the scholarship."
Somehow Jane stumbled over the word. It was fraught with terror in
the hands of this impossible creature.

"Well, I don't believe it" (no regard for Jane's veracity), "but
I'll hold on awhile and see." (Condescending, thought Jane.) "My
folks always wanted me to go to college and I just came to satisfy
them. I don't give a snap for all the high brow stuff and I might as
well tell you I am nearly dead with homesickness." (She didn't look
it, Jane observed.) "But I'm no quitter, so I intend to stick. Now
let's get back to the girl who hit me. Can you make her apologize?"

"No," said Jane flatly, "and what's more I have no intention of
trying to. You brought trouble on yourself by going into Dozia's
room without being invited. You should know that the younger girls,
the freshmen, are not supposed to take such privileges. Then when
you annoyed my friend" (Jane almost kissed the word) "she told you
outright she was busy and did not want to be bothered. Next thing,
you deliberately sat under her stepladder. Do you like to get in the
open path of tack hammers?"

"Love to," sneered Shirley. "And I'm crazy about playing ball with
them when mirrors are up for back stops. All right, go ahead, as far
as you like. I believe now what I heard about the Jane Alien crowd.
A lot of goody goodies, too stuck up to bother with country girls."
Jane jumped from her seat and gasped at an interruption but did not
succeed in sustaining it. "But I've got friends around here who know
the ropes. They are not freshies either, so don't bother about me,
Miss Allen. I'll see about the looking-glass and the girl who hit me
with her hammer."

Jane let her go, was actually glad to see the last of the satin
skirt as it swished out into the winding path, nor did she
immediately follow it. Instead she sat there, tearing little red
rose hips from the tenacious vines and tossing them away regardless
of their artistic value as decorative winter berries.

"Tragic," she muttered, "positively tragic. And that is what my
darling dad wasted a perfectly good scholarship on." Thoughts of
"dad" mercifully intervened and saved the girl's temper further
violence. "But what puzzles me is how that girl ever won the
scholarship?" Jane silently questioned, and in that unspoken
sentence she unconsciously shaped the key to fit the mystery.

How did this girl win the scholarship? For some moments longer Jane
sat there. She went over again the incident of Dozia's tack hammer.
That she could depend absolutely on Dozia, and knew this strange
girl had done more than sit in the path of the showering tack hammer
was irrefutable.

"Dozia was a little bit reckless of course," admitted the mentor,
"and she did seem to coddle the fact that her hammer fell on
Shirley's head. I recall she even said she was glad it hit her and
hoped the blow would send the freshie home to her 'maw.'"

Jane wanted to laugh but she refrained. There was a strange proctor
in office this year to be considered. If dear old Miss Weatherbee
were still in charge it might be much easier to explain the
accident.

"And that girl defied me with a threat of friends! She has friends
who are not in the freshman ranks? I remember she said that. Who can
they be? My enemies naturally," decided Jane.

How these enemies would fill that foolish head with nonsense, and
how far they might urge her on to mischief if not to actual danger,
Jane Allen did not venture to estimate.

"But Dozia tried first shot to send her home to her 'maw!'"

The humor of the situation now struck Jane like a blow on the funny
bone, and she burst out laughing in the very face of the thorny rose
bush.

"After all it is too delicious!" she told herself. "And even if she
is my dad's scholarship girl there's a heap of fun in the ridiculous
situation. I'll find Judy and tell her the whole thing. Too good to
keep; too funny to spoil," and the blue serge skirt that fanned the
boxwood a moment later never swished a swish. Jane did not give it
tune to do so.




CHAPTER VI

JANE AND JUDITH


Oh, do tell me, Janie. I was watching behind the big elm the whole
time. Couldn't hear a word of course, but I could have seen any
attempt at violence. That girl, I tell you, is no ordinary
'critter.' I fully expected she would draw something from that broad
satin belt. But do tell? What was it all about?"

"Thank you for the chance, Judy, I was just wondering when you would
take breath. It is funny--so funny I am laughing all over," and the
gray eyes sent out sparks of mirth, as a senior might have put it.

"Isn't it!" howled Judith, pegging a pillow at Jane's head to keep
the fun a-going or the "pot a-boiling" as you will.

"I don't know where to begin Judy. At first I was sort of awe-
stricken. Considering the handicaps poor Shirley has loaded herself
up with----"

"Including the name. Have you analyzed that?"

"Yes, love, I have. Some maiden aunt with a paper covered library
must have inflicted her with that. It doesn't suit at all, although
she seems very proud of it."

"And no chance of her growing into it either. Like a chauffeur named
Claude or Clarence. Her last name now would be much snappier for
her. Duncan makes a topping Dunny," suggested Judith.

"But the girl would never believe that," sighed Jane. "She asked me
to call her Shirley and I tried to; now, Judith, listen. Here are a
few difficult facts. Shirley Duncan is bound to fight. She has been
brought up in the school of affectionate antagonism, and with her it
is a case of getting the best of everyone and everything. I did not
say getting the better, I mean best."

"I savvy, as our old friend cow-boy Pedro would say. Have you heard
from home lately, Dinks?"

"Yes, Judith. All well and lonely. But please concentrate. This
matter is serious. Shirley threatened me with friends--says she has
friends here who are not freshies. Can you guess who they may be?"

"Never saw a girl speak to her a second time unless she, Shirley,
stepped on the other's toes or knocked her hat off. Then the
conversation was naturally brief and snappy. It happened to Mabel."

"I can't imagine whom she means, but they are somewhere ready to
pounce on us, so let us beware. Next point is: she seems to have
money: offered to pay for the broken mirror. In fact she sort of
lorded it over me."

"Dozia should strike for a new vanity dresser. One with three side
glasses big enough to reflect her wonderful, long flowing locks. A
rare chance for Dozia."

"But how could a girl coming in on scholarship have money to
squander?" reflected Jane.

"That maiden aunt with the paper covered novels would love good
looking-glasses. It might be the salvation of this Shirley girl, if
she did have access to a true mirror."

Judith snapped the top on her fountain pen and slammed shut her
note-book. Indifferent work was worse than none, she seemed to have
decided.

"Had you finished your Lat? Isn't it awful to have to work off a
condition? Please don't let me bother you ever, Jude, when you have
that task on hand," said Jane seriously.

"I have and it is, if you kept your two questions properly
tabulated. You see I am straining for mental stuff. I want to
improve the old condition of forgetfulness. That was what knocked
friend Virgil, or was it Cicero? I loved the stories and forgot the
period. But I am finished for this evening, dear, and you know we
have some initiation stunts to take part in. I am glad they are so
simple. It seems to me each year the nonsense gets more rational."

"It really does, and I think, as you do, that shows progress. We can
all enjoy better fun than that of afflicting the innocent. Of course
we still have to have some ceremony or the young 'uns wouldn't think
they were really in college. I just wonder how it will strike our
rebel Shirley?"

"That interests me too, Dinksy. Let's go and see. We have some
lovely little babes this year. That ivory blonde, the timid one with
a most atrocious name, Sarah Something, I just love her, don't you?"

"Sarah Howland, I saw Inez marking her card. Yes, she is sweet in
spite of her name. Rather a pity sponsors cannot show
discrimination. Here is your sweater. Better take it; the wind
whistles. I'll pull my riding cap down as a disguise. It takes in
most of this-wig," Jane was struggling to stuff her bright tresses
into the pocket of her black velvet jockey cap. The effect towered
like a real English derby and Judith danced in delight.

"I'll try that with my tarn," she declared. "One's hair is always
the surest give-away. Here are the masks--hanging neatly on the nail
of last year's tenants. I call that thoughtful."

Mysterious calls and whistles were now creeping in under doorways
and through transoms. The sophs were ready to initiate the
frightened little freshmen. Tales of "they will do this and they
won't do that" had little effect on the individual candidate, but
served to keep up the collective nerve by way of distraction.

"If they hold us under the pump I'll be glad of it," sang out
Shirley the Rebel. "Haven't had a decent drink of water since I left
home, and I suppose the pump has a spring."

"And it's warm enough to enjoy a dip in the lake if they abduct us
in canoes," added Jessie Whitely. "I'm almost suffocated in this big
thing," with an impatient jerk at the criminal's black robe.

"Say your prayers, say your prayers!" chanted another of the group,
seconded by moans and groans. They were waiting like prisoners
jammed into the gym lobby, and a guard of sophs patrolled the
entrance.

Noticeable in the assemblage was little Sarah Howland-noticeable
because she sat on a window sill all alone and dangled her feet
contentedly. She actually appeared to be enjoying the prospect of
being "roughed." Shirley was noisy as usual, and for once her
raillery seemed appropriate. The more timid girls had taken shelter
about her, as if expecting she would easily and even gaily vanquish
the attacking foe.

Friends had the strong girl now if never before, and she fairly
expanded under the compliment. She would show the sophs what country
training did for a girl in the way of self-protection, and a few
stories of real or fancied battles at High School (no town
mentioned) also served to thrill her audience until Shirley came
near being popular for the once.

"Of course we shall have to do foolish things," mused Eleanor Meed,
"but I won't mind as long as I am not forced to eat something I hate
or drink vinegar--"

"Don't worry on that score," spoke up Marie Coeyman. "Nothing like
that is apt to be attempted. I heard some of the sophs say--"

"Because they knew you were listening," discerned another. "Don't
take any stock in what you overheard. They are apt to do directly
contrary to loudly whispered plans."

"But whatever it is to be, I do wish they would get at it and let's
have it over," growled Shirley. "It's no fun being cooped up here--"

"Hush, don't let the guards hear you complaining," cautioned Marie.
"It's like a trial, you get more for contempt of court if you don't
accept your sentence gracefully."

The shuffling of many feet along the stone walk put an end to
further speculation.

"Here they come! Here they come!" went a tremor through the crowd of
candidates, and when the doors were thrown open a masked committee
confronted them.

Orders, all kinds and volumes of them, poured in quickly as tag
numbers could be singled out. Some were taken in little groups of
four "outside to cool off." Others were commanded to hop around in
circles, while still more were given such individual commands as
seemed most antagonistic to their particular propensities.

Shirley was still unmolested. She stood bravely awaiting her turn,
now and then flinging out a wild arm to make sure its muscles were
in good shape for the fray.

Finally someone (we hope it was not Judith) called her number--
sixty-eight, and she sprang to the chalk line with what is usually
termed alacrity, but it really sounded much more ominous.

"Does your head hurt?" asked the voice, and Shirley nodded. She
thought that might be safest.

"What hit you?" went on the prosecutor.

"A hammer!" responded Shirley.

"A nice hard tack hammer?" came the query again.

"Lovely," spoke the bewildered girl.

"What did you do with it?" asked the inquisitor.

There was no response. The Rebel was getting indignant.

"Quick," demanded a second member "of the firing squad."

"I threw it away," faltered sixty-eight.

"What did it hit?"

"A looking-glass." This reply came quickly enough.

"And the glass smashed?"

"Yes--"

"Yes, madam," prompted a guard.

"Yes, madam," repeated Shirley with a quiver.

"For which show of temper you are to dust that room every day for a
full week, and you may come along now and get your first lesson."

Shirley straightened up defiantly.

"Go on! Go on!" begged the little freshman recognized as the pretty
Sarah Howland. "Hurry or they will make it worse."

The leader marched out and Shirley followed. Those who had heard the
sentence realized the misery it inflicted that the strongest girl
should be denied the pump, the lake, tree climbing and even boxing
possible or gym work, for a mean little contemptible stunt like
dusting Dozia's room!

Arrived at the room someone stuck something on Shirley's nose. She
attempted to brush it off but was warned not to do so. Presently she
realized it was a feather, and it seemed to stick in glue on the
very point of her nose!

We will spare the reader an account of Shirley's agony as she vainly
tried to "dust" with that feather on her nose. It was too
humiliating, but a freshman should not have shown such temper, and
there was still the cracked mirror to accuse her!

Every piece of furniture in the room had to be "dusted," that is it
was brushed with the evil feather, which somehow or other did stay
on the candidate's nose; and if the spectators clapped and laughed
Shirley could scarcely blame them, for Dozia Dalton had a foolish
lot of truck to be dusted. More than once she halted, but was
promptly prodded on until finally the humiliating task had been
accomplished.

"Good girl!" called out a voice from behind a mask and Judith
quickly stepped up to take off the duster. Juniors favor the
freshman in spite of such conditions.

"O--uch!" protested the culprit. "It is hard!"

"Wait a minute!" cautioned Jane's voice. "This will remove it. Sit
down, sixty-eight."

The unhappy candidate fell into a chair, while someone applied the
alcohol cloth and presently the tiny feather fell with its bit of
sticky felt into the palm awaiting to catch it.

"Keep your hands down," insisted someone, for Shirley never knew
before the glory of a free nose and she just wanted to pet it a
little. But her tormentors intended to fix up any damage they might
have inadvertently perpetrated on the feature, and what coating
didn't come off with the alcohol was quickly covered with Dozia's
powder, until the freshman was made to look even better than nature
had intended she should.

This fixing up was almost as hateful to Shirley as was the
abominable dusting, but she kept her temper-the lesson seemed
profitable already.

Jane was arranging the disordered hair, and as she attempted to
stroke it with a wet brush Shirley put up a detaining hand.

"Please don't wet it," she begged in a whisper, and Jane stopped
short with her brush raised for action.

"Not wet it?" she thought quickly. "That must mean treatment, and
treatment meant the forbidden beauty shop!"

This girl had been visiting that shop. More danger ahead, decided
Jane, as she lay down the brush and proceeded to finish the dressing
dry.

Judith had overheard the request and pinched Jane's arm to admit it,
but a loud demand for the freshman from the group rounding up
candidates saved further delay and when Shirley left Dozia's room
the latter patted her affectionately.

"Don't worry, dear," said Dozia, "I'll be careful not to raise too
much dust next week."

But her sentence was not the most serious thing in prospect for the
rebel Shirley Duncan. Not even the good times prepared for the
candidates served to allay the dread she struggled against, and only
her natural delight in the rollicking fun, and the really fine
spread served them by the juniors, helped bring the girl back to a
happy frame of mind.

Woe unto the freshie who shows ill will at an initiation!

She may be obliged to walk in the gutter for the full first half
year, or wear a baby blue ribbon under her chin!

But Shirley had heeded the warnings.




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.

Miss Gifford used the telephone at the foot of the circular
staircase. She was giving a very tactfully worded account of the
incident to the president, and it was very evident the whole
occurrence would be conspiciously free of sensation if the matron's
verbal report were embodied in official records.

A long drawn out and happily intoned reply floated from Miss
Gifford's lips as she half turned from the telephone and surveyed
Jane and Dozia.

"Oh, yes indeed, they are both here, perfectly safe," she announced,
"and I don't know what I should have done without their assistance."

So the raiders had been "found missing" at Madison Hall!




CHAPTER XIII

THE AFTERMATH


There was another panic over in Madison," explained Miss Gifford,
after leaving the telephone; "when Miss Allen and Miss Dalton were
found missing it is a wonder someone over there didn't send out a
second fire alarm. Miss Fairlie was much relieved to know her
charges were safe and sound here, and I obtained a leave of absence
for you for the remainder of the night," she finished. The very much
perturbed matron had no idea of being left alone with a flock of
obstreperous freshmen.

"Lovely!" exclaimed Jane, dancing around with a group of barefoot
girls who threatened to turn the occasion into a Greek playlet.

"Scrumbunctious!" sang out the ballet de chambre, dancing in wild
glee now that danger of ghosts and firemen had actually passed.

"But girls," spoke Dozia, "did you notice the little fat fireman who
held that big hose nozzle? I do verily believe he was so
disappointed he wanted to hit someone. Just see where his old hose
scraped my best silken hose. I don't mean that for a parody, but
honestly, girls, these were the last and final gift from mater. She
has condemned me to wear ordinary lisle hereafter, and just look at
that--stock!"

"Only dry dust, it will brush off," soothed Jane. "But I say, girls,
how about beds!"

"Beds!" shrieked a chorus.

"Not a bed!" spoke Nellie Saunders for her entire class. "We
wouldn't mind cuddling up here on blankets and cushions, but I for
one shall not mount those spooky stairs, this night."

"Silly child," scolded Dozia, her own eyes heavy with the ordinary
common gar