er-spouts followed. Joe Eldred, behind the scenes, certainly managed
the paraphernalia borrowed from the Milton Opera House with good effect.

As the murmurs subsided the voice of the Hallowe'en Witch rose again:

"To prove to you our secret knowledge of all that goes on--even the
innermost thoughts of your hearts--I will answer any question put to
me--marvelously--in the twinkling of an eye. Watch the screen!"

Primed beforehand, one of the boys in the back of the room shouted a
question. The witch whirled about and pointed to the screen. Letters of
fire seemed to flash from the point of the wand and to cross the sheet,
forming the words of a pertinent reply to the query that had been asked.

The girls laughed and applauded. The boys stamped and cheered.

Question followed question. Some were spontaneous and the answers showed
a surprisingly exact knowledge of the questioners' private affairs, or
else a happy gift at repartee. Of course, the illuminated writing was
some trick of electricity; nevertheless it was both amusing and
puzzling.

References to school fun, jokes in class-room, happenings known to most
of those present who attended the Milton schools, suggested the most
popular queries.

Suddenly Eva Larry's sharp voice rang through the room. Her question was
distinctly personal, and it shocked some few of the listeners into
silence.

"Who told on the basket ball team and got us all barred from taking part
in the play?"

"Oh, Eva!" groaned Agnes, who sat beside her loyal, if unwise friend.

The witch's wand poised, seemed to hesitate longer than usual, and then
the noncommittal answer flashed out:

The Traitor is Here!

There was a general shuffling of feet and murmur of surprise. The lights
went up. The Hallowe'en Witch had disappeared and that part of the
entertainment was over.

"I'd like to have seen Trix Severn's face when that last question was
sprung," whispered Myra Stetson to Agnes.

"Oh! it was awful!" murmured the Corner House girl. "Why did you do it,
Eva?" she demanded of the harum-scarum girl on her other side.

"Huh! do you s'pose I thought that all up by myself?" demanded Eva.

"Why! didn't you?"

"No, ma'am! Neale O'Neil gave it to me written on a piece of paper and
told me when to shout it out. So now! I guess there's more than just us
who have suspected that pussy-cat, Trix Severn."

"Oh, don't, girls, don't!" begged Agnes. "We haven't any proof--nor has
Neale, I'm sure.