The wild burst of ardent applause that followed her clever terpsichorean effort pointed to the fact that the masked audience was at least possessed of very human young throats. The Spirit of Hallowe’en declined, however, to respond to the frantic demonstration, and a moment later the imp’s falsetto tones made themselves heard above the din.
“Follow me to the Hall of Fate,” he ordered. “There the Three Weird Sisters tarry to wail the Chant of Destiny.”
This invitation conveyed the information that where the fateful kettle simmered under the guardianship of the weird three must undoubtedly be the Hall of Fate. The guests did not wait to follow, but made a bee-line for it, at least half of them reaching it ahead of their obliging master of ceremonies. Once they had gathered there the Weird Sisters entertained them with a spirited dance about the kettle, to the accompaniment of an unearthly chant, pitched in a minor key.
At the conclusion of it a terrific burst of thunder broke and the Hall of Fate became suddenly flooded with light.
“All aboard for the ball room!” shrieked the imp in a voice that strongly resembled that of Danny Seabrooke. “The Test of True Love will presently be held there.”
This astonishing statement raised a shout of laughter. The young folks needed no second urging, however, as they willingly mounted the two flights of stairs after the imp, who skipped nimbly ahead of them, while the Three Weird Sisters brought up the rear. The apartment used by Hal and Jerry for a ball room, when entertaining their friends, was situated on the third floor of the east wing of the house. It was especially large and airy, with a beautifully polished floor, and, therefore, well suited to the purpose. Jerry always referred to it as the “town hall” and took considerable pleasure in the possession of it.
Arriving in the ball room, the maskers found that the four musicians hired to play for the dancing were already at their post. Despite their curiosity as to what particular ordeal awaited them in the cause of true love, the enticing measures of a waltz sent the masculine portion of the company scurrying for partners. It was not until the fifth dance was over that the imp staggered into their midst, heavily laden with a freight of beribboned brooms. Depositing them in a corner he promptly disappeared, to return presently with a second load. By that time the sixth dance had ended, and the dancers were beginning to murmur concerning their masks, which were becoming rather too concealing for comfort. Then, too, nearly everyone had come into a fair knowledge regarding the identities of at least part of his or her companions.
It was, therefore, wholly to their liking when the ubiquitous imp marched to the center of the floor and declaimed in true Danny Seabrooke fashion: “Damsels of the Domino, please line up across the floor. The Test of True Love is about to begin.” His next order, “Knights of the Domino, your fiery steeds await you! Kindly march in line to the corner and select your steed, then find your partner for the evening!” evoked a tumult of laughter. The Test of True Love promised to be decidedly amusing.
CHAPTER XI—AN UNWILLING CAVALIER
The laughter grew louder when, according to the energetic imp’s direction, four solemn, black-robed figures obediently bestrode their broomstick steeds. They next pranced confidently up and down the line of girls in hopeful search of the fair one, the ribbon rosette on whose sleeve corresponded respectively with the bow on the broom each rode. When the first four had triumphantly ended their quest and marched their newly-acquired partners out of line, four more gallants fared forth to seek their own, and so on until seventeen broomstick knights had appropriated their seventeen respective partners.