“And we can both send you flowers, can’t we?” demanded the straight-haired twin, jumping up, flushed and panting from her exertions.
Every one waited eagerly to hear what the next stunt would be.
“This is for you, Miss Butts,” announced the tall ghost, after a whispered colloquy with her companions, “and as you don’t seem very happy to-night we’ve made it easy. Tell the name of your most particular crush. Now don’t pretend you haven’t any.”
“I won’t tell,” muttered Miss Butts sullenly.
“Then you’ll have to make up Lucile Merrifield’s bed for two weeks as a penalty for disobeying our decrees. Now all the rest of you may tell your crushes’ names. I will explain, as some of you look a little dazed about it, that your crush is the person you most deeply adore.”
Some of the freshmen meekly accepted the penalty rather than divulge their secret affections, one declared that she hadn’t a crush, one, remembering the legend of Georgia Ames, made up a sophomore’s name and after she had been safely “passed” exulted over the simplicity of her victims. A few, including Georgia, calmly confessed their divinities’ names and gloated over the effect their announcements had upon some of the ghosts.
When this entertainment was exhausted, the ghosts held another conference. “Carline Dodge, get under the bed and develop like a film,” decreed the leader finally.
“Oh, not under mine,” cried a tall, impressive-looking ghost plaintively. “My botany and zoölogy specimens are under it. She’d be sure to upset the jars.”
“There!” said Georgia Ames complacently. “That makes six of you that we know. Polly Eastman and now Lucile have given themselves away. Babbie Hildreth crumpled all up when Carline Dodge called out her crush’s name. If she’s here, the other two that they call the B’s are, and Madeline Ayres is directing the job. It’s easy enough to guess who the rest of you are, so why not take off those hot things and be sociable?”
“Go on, Carline Dodge,” ordered the tall ghost imperturbably.