Raising her lorgnettes, she looked sharply at the four dancing figures. Then turning to Mrs. Bonnell, who had crossed from the table to receive her, she asked:
“Who is that strikingly tall figure in the Jack o’ Lantern costume. I did not know we had so tall a girl in the school.”
“I am sure I do not know, Miss Woodhull. She came in after the dancing began. She sustains the character well, doesn’t she?”
“I wish to know who she is. Send someone for her if you please,” answered the principal, ignoring the question. She was a little doubtful of that tall girl. In times gone by some of her pupils had been guilty of indiscretions. If this were a repetition it must be nipped in the bud.
Mrs. Bonnell beckoned to one of the masqueraders, a jolly little Tam o’ Shanta, and bade him bring Jack.
He nodded and instantly darted off in pursuit of him. As well have tried to capture the original of the character!
The mad chase lasted perhaps five minutes. Miss Woodhull was powerless. How could she accuse Jack of disrespect to her or disregard of her commands when he could not possibly have known them? He was only acting his part to perfection any way. Besides Tam never had caught the goblins: The shoe had been on the other foot. But at that second Jack tripped over a ring set in the floor of the gym and went sprawling, his pumpkin lantern flying out of his hand and breaking into a dozen fragments. Tam was almost upon him, but before he could lay hold Jack was up again, had made a spring, caught one of the flying rings which dangled high above his head, swung like a monkey from that to the next, and so on down the line until he was in range of the gallery, at which he hurled himself bodily, landed upon the railing, balanced a half-second and was safe upon the gallery floor, to the boundless amazement of the onlookers and absolute banishment of their suspicions regarding the identity of Miss Stetson. That spring settled his fate with Miss Woodhull: No girl in Leslie Manor could have performed such a feat, and all the dancers were staring speechless. It was the ominous silence before the storm.
“That masquerader is not a girl, Miss Bonnell! It is some boy! Who has perpetrated this outrage? Miss Baylis, order all the outer doors closed and guarded and a thorough search made. This matter shall be sifted to the very bottom. No, you will all remain in this room and immediately unmask under Mrs. Bonnell’s eyes. I shall superintend the search,” and Miss Woodhull sailed majestically from the room.