"Do what? I don't understand."
"Why, just as the clock is striking twelve, you go down the cellar-stairs, with a candle in one hand and a mirror in the other."
"You go down backward," Ruth reminded her.
"O, yes. You must walk backward. And when you get to the bottom of the stairs you set the mirror down somewhere and the candle in front of it, and begin to eat an apple."
Apparently the solemnity of the proceeding was failing to make due impression on Elaine. Amy's voice became thrillingly mysterious.
"You must look and look into the mirror as hard as you can, all the time that you're eating the apple. And, before you've finished, a face will be looking over your shoulder. O my!" Amy indulged in a prolonged shiver.
"I wouldn't do it for worlds," she repeated.
"How odd! I shouldn't mind it at all," said Elaine.
"Why, then you can do it," Peggy cried. "You're just the one. Light that red candle, Priscilla. No, not that. The largest one. Here's your mirror and your apple, and you must be ready to start down the stairs the minute the clock begins to strike twelve."
"It's a pretty big apple, considering what I've had already," laughed Elaine. "Is it necessary to eat it all?"