Grand Opening Sat. July 7
Music by the Syncopating Six
Admission $1.00 a Couple
Refreshments.
Tommy Beals’ “idea” went over big—as his companions assured him in so hearty a manner that he grew quite pink with pleasure.
“It really wasn’t my idea at all,” he protested modestly. “Ned said it first. I only worked it up a bit and made the posters.”
“Yes, and in a way that none of the rest of us have got either the wit or the skill to do!” declared Ned, loyally. “Now the next thing will be to get up some stunts in the ghost line. Nothing horrible, but just enough to keep the crowd guessing.”
“That ought to be easy,” said Charlie Rogers. “All we need is a little phosphorescent paint—the kind that glows at night—kind of pale and ghastly, and maybe a couple of iron chains to clank at the right time.”
As July seventh drew near, the “haunted” house was the scene of feverish activity. The well scraped oak floor was given its final coating of wax and polished to a perilous smoothness. Flags and bunting, which had recently decked the town band-stand, now concealed the rough unfinished timbers and broken portions of walls and ceilings. A piano was installed on the stair-landing and one hundred chairs of the folding type used at public gatherings were arranged along the walls of the two dance rooms. A rectangle of solid flooring covered the opening to the cellar and removed any danger of injury to the dancers from a fall into the black pit below. With the heavy part of the work completed, the boys had declared a half-holiday and were gathered in the Wilbur garage for a final conference.
“We’re just fifty-six dollars in the hole,” announced Chairman Blake after a careful revision of the figures handed him by Treasurer Beals. “If this first dance is the success it ought to be, we can square up on everything and have something ahead for payment on the lease.”