“No,” said Shirley, changing her voice as well as she could. “I did not know anything about it till I saw it here tonight.”
“We’d like to see it before we decide; yet, girls, the black cat is more appropriate to witches, and I think that this costume will take the first prize anyway.”
The judges hurried off. If it had not been for that last remark, it might have been Shirley’s duty to say that she knew who the girl was who wore the yellow cat costume, though even then it would have been a question whether to tell or not. Shirley had a feeling that Sidney would prefer to lose a prize rather than admit having a costume like Shirley’s. How had it happened? she asked herself again.
CHAPTER XIII.
FLETA TO THE RESCUE
Sidney did not do anything so foolish as to remain away from the Hallowe’en fun. However unhappy she felt over the apparent copying of her costume, or perhaps a deliberate suggestion by Caroline, who knew that the freshman witch would wear such a costume, she reached a better frame of mind under the urging of Fleta, pretty in shepherdess gayety.
The Turkish costume was one which she had used in Chicago and had brought with her the year before. Then, the little play called for the “Double Three” domino. “Luckily it hasn’t been worn here, Sidney,” said Fleta, as she helped Sidney hunt through the big box and took smaller boxes down from the top shelf of the closet.
“But it is so terribly mussed,” wailed Sidney. “I can’t wear it at all!” The main part of the costume was, of course, at the very bottom of the big box which formed the window seat in their study.
“Yes, you can, Sid! Hunt up the sash, and if you can’t find it, there’s that red one of mine that will do. It’s in my drawer, somewhere in a box. I’ll get my little iron and run down to the kitchen. They’ll let me press there, under the circumstances. Wait till I get a sheet to lay on the table, if I can’t get hold of an ironing board. Where’s the cord to my iron? There, now!”
A very capable shepherdess, still wearing her mask, flew down to the kitchen, where refreshments were being prepared for a real Hallowe’en banquet, the first one of the kind that they had ever had there. Fleta explained that there had been a great mistake and that somebody would miss all the fun if this costume could not be pressed and made fit to wear.
“If you can find a place to do it, go ahead,” was the reply to Fleta’s explanation and request, and determined Fleta found a place where she could attach the cord to her electric iron and press the costume well enough.