A Dixie School Girl

by Gabrielle E. Jackson

“Who is it? Who are they? How can they look so exactly alike? We didn’t know there were two girls in the school who matched so well, and who could do everything so exactly alike.”

But neither Tweedle-dum nor Tweedle-dee enlightened the questioners. Indeed, neither spoke one word, signs having to answer to all queries.

Presently the musicians struck up a hornpipe, when away they went in the jolliest dance eyes ever looked upon, and would have absorbed all attention had not a new diversion been created just then.

During their prancing, Sally, in her Will-o’-the-Wisp costume, had been darting in and out between the tall potted plants and bowers constructed of Autumn leaves, her luminous tatters fluttering and her dancing light blinding every dancer into whose face she flashed it.

Just as Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee were in the height of their performance she darted from her bosky nook and flitted down the room, closely followed by a tall Jack o’ Lantern with his pumpkin light. No one in the room was so tall. Who could it be? There was just one person in the school who might look as tall if so disguised and that was Miss Stetson, but even the liveliest imagination could hardly fancy Miss Stetson in that guise. Moreover, Miss Stetson could never have pranced with such supple grace as this dancing Jack was prancing after the Will-o’-the-Wisp. No, it could not be Miss Stetson.

Towering above the nimble little Will, Jack cavorted, swung his lantern and by signs indicated his desire to imitate Tweedle-dum’s and Tweedle-dee’s performances, to which Will promptly acceded and the quartette hornpipe was on.

Now it was Miss Woodhull’s custom to grace all festive occasions by her presence just prior to the stroke of nine-thirty when refreshments were served. The revelers were to unmask before partaking of the feast. After the feast they were at liberty to dance until ten-thirty but not a moment later.

The fun was at its height, Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee had danced with every other goblin, the evening star included, though it must be confessed that Tweedle-dee had been unanimously pronounced the better leader by his partners, and Jack “almost as good as a boy; she was so strong and danced so divinely,” though none had as yet guessed the identity of either. Then Miss Woodhull, escorted by Miss Baylis, entered the gym. Had it been possible to suddenly reduce the temperature of the room and thus congeal the dancers the effect produced could hardly have been more chilling.

From the merriest, most hilarious frolicing, the gayest, cheeriest bantering and laughter, to the utmost decorum was the transformation effected in two minutes after Miss Woodhull’s and Miss Baylis’ entrance. With the exception of Tweedle-dum, Tweedle-dee, Will-o’-the-Wisp and Jack o’ Lantern, the girls ceased dancing and stood in groups and even the musicians played more softly.

There was not the vestige of a smile on Miss Woodhull’s face as she looked upon the four dancers. She tolerated such frivolity; she was compelled to do so; her school would have been unpopular had she not done so; other schools approved of them.