Of course, Mrs. Locke could do no less for a neighbor who had so befriended her and Robin: so here she was, looking as much the lady in her cheap black gown as any richer woman there. Also, so absorbed she was in keeping old John from trying to “cut and run,” or doing anything else that would have mortified his wife.
The Lady Principal had herself hesitated somewhat before the cottagers were invited, fearing their presence would be offensive to more aristocratic guests, but the good Bishop had heartily endorsed Dorothy’s plea for them and she accepted his decision.
In any case, she need not have feared. For suddenly there sounded from the distance the wailing of a violin, so weird and suggestive of uncanny things, that all talking ceased and all eyes turned toward the wide entrance doors, through which the masqueraders must come. Everything within the great room had been arranged with due attention to “effect.” In its center a great “witches’ caldron” hung suspended from three poles, and a lantern hung above it, where the bobbing for apples would take place. Dishes of salt, witch-cakes of meal, jack-o’-lanterns dimly lighted, odors of brimstone, daubs of phosphorus here and there—in fact, everything that the imaginations of the maskers could conceive, or reading suggest as fit for Hallowe’en, had been prepared.
The doleful music drew nearer and nearer and as the lights in the Hall went out, leaving only the pale glimmer of the lanterns, even the most indifferent guests felt a little thrill run through their nerves. Then the doors slowly opened and there came through them a ghostly company that seemed endless. From head to foot each “ghost” was draped in white, even the extended hand which held a lighted taper was gloved in white, and the whole procession moved slowly to the dirge which the unseen musicians played.
After a circuit of the great room, they began a curious dance which, in reality, was a calisthenic movement familiar to the everyday life of these young actors, but, as now performed, seemed weird and nerve-trying even to themselves. Its effect upon others was even more powerful and upon John Gilpin, to send him into a shivering fit that alarmed Mrs. Locke.
“Why, Mr. Gilpin, what’s the matter? Are you ill?”
“Seems if—seems if—my last hour’s come! Needn’t tell me—them’s—just—just plain schoolgirls! They—they’re spooks right out the graveyard, sure as preachin’ and I wish—I hadn’t come! And there’s no end of ’em! And it means—somethin’ terr’ble! I wish—do you suppose—Ain’t there a winder some’ers nigh? Is this Hall high up? Could I—could I climb out it?”
The poor little widow was growing very nervous herself. Her companion’s positive terror was infecting her and she felt that if this were her promised “fun” she’d had quite enough of it, and would be as glad as he to desert the gathering.
Suddenly the movement changed. The slowly circling ghosts fell into step with the altered music, which, still a wailing minor, grew fast and faster, until with a crash its mad measure ended. At that instant, and before the lights were turned on, came another most peculiar sound. It was like the patter of small hoofs, the “ih-ih-ihing” of some terrified beast; and all ears were strained to listen while through those open doors came bounding and leaping, as if to escape its own self—What?
From her perch on Dr. Winston’s knees, Miss Millikins-Pillikins identified it as: