Georgia’s attitude of amused tolerance therefore set the tone for the freshmen’s behavior. “Don’t you see that it’s some sophomore joke?” she demanded. “Might as well let the poor creatures get as much fun out of us as they can, and then perhaps they’ll give us something good to eat by and by.”
“We’ll give you something right away,” squeaked a ghost. “Georgia Ames and Miss Ashton, stand forth. Now kneel down, shut your eyes and open your mouths.”
“Don’t do it. It will be some horrid, peppery mess,” advised a sour-tempered freshman named Butts.
But Georgia and her companion stood bravely forth, to be rewarded by two delicious mouthfuls of Madeline’s French chocolate. After this pleasant surprise, the freshmen, all but Miss Butts and one or two more, grew more cheerful and began to enter into the spirit of the occasion.
“Josephine Boyd, you are elected to scramble like an egg,” announced a tall ghost.
Josephine’s performance was so realistic that it evoked peals of laughter from ghosts and freshmen alike.
“We’ll recommend you for a part in the next menagerie that the house or the college has,” said the tall ghost, who seemed to be mistress of ceremonies. “The Dutton twins are now commanded to push matches across the floor with their noses. You’ll find the matches on the table by the window. Somebody tie their hands behind them. Now start at the door and go straight across to Georgia Ames’s chair. The one that wins the race must send Polly some flowers,” added the tall ghost maliciously as the twins, blushing violently at this barefaced reference to their rivalry for Polly’s affections, took their matches, and at Georgia’s signaled “One, two, three, go!” began their race.
Pushing a match across a slippery floor with one’s nose looked so easy and proved so difficult that both ghosts and freshmen, as they cheered on the eager contestants, longed to take part in the enticing sport. The fluffy-haired twin kept well ahead of her straight-haired sister, until, when her match was barely a foot from Georgia’s chair it caught in a crack and broke in two.
“Oh, dear!” sighed the fluffy-haired twin forlornly, trying to single out her divinity from among the sheeted ghosts.
Her despair was too much for soft-hearted Polly. “Never mind,” she said kindly “The race is hereby called off.”