"What is your name?" she asked, in a high, squeaking voice that Patricia failed to recognize.
Elinor responded promptly.
"Where do you live?" was the next question, to which Elinor again replied good-naturedly.
"Pooh! they're as stupid as the rest," thought Patricia contemptuously, and she let her attention wander, studying the various ghosts, making mental notes as to height and size for future reference.
She was brought back to the center of interest by a sharp hiss from a ghost on the edge of the assembly and a muffled cry of "No fair!" from another nearer the stand.
The leader raised a grisly hand and swept the assembly with her cavernous eye sockets.
"I repeat," she piped, turning to Elinor with a jerky bow, "I repeat my question. Why were you admitted to our class without having worked in any antique or life classes before?"
"Oh, that's too personal," said a ghost in a disgusted tone. "I protest! This isn't a Board meeting."
There was a general murmur of laughter at this, but the leader stood rigid, awaiting Elinor's reply.
"I have told anyone who asked me," said Elinor, evenly, though her cheeks were beginning to burn. "I came in on Bruce Haydon's recommendation."