“Paul ran me in the barn and chased me up into the hayloft but I jumped out on this big haystack to get away from him. He followed right after me and both of us slid down the side and landed on top of each other. One wild squawk from the chickens underneath us told how we had landed on top of them. They died so quick they hadn’t time to make a will to dispose of their heads,” laughed Dudley, at the remembrance.
“We carried the two chickens back and told the Captain of their unexpected end, and he said, ‘That’s a new form of capital punishment.’”
While the children talked over the rural sports of the Captain’s farm Mrs. Remington seemed absent-minded. When they had worn the subject threadbare however, she made a remark.
“I’ve been thinking about the masked ball—you should have been planning long before this as to the costumes you intend wearing.”
“How do you know that we haven’t been planning?” asked Fred, smilingly.
“Oh, I’m glad if you have, but I haven’t heard about it,” said she.
“Haven’t you heard a weird tincan sound coming from the direction of the pump-house lately?” queried Fred.
“Why, yes—I believe I have! What is it?” quizzed his mother.
“That’s the secret of my costume. Nobody will ever guess what it is to be so I won’t tell beforehand,” returned Fred.
“I’m going as Red Riding Hood!” exclaimed Edith.