her
costume, and her father declared she looked good enough to eat.

"Eat her up," said Rosy Posy, who was ecstatically gazing at her
beautiful big sister. "Be a hippottymus, Fader, an' eat Mopsy all up!"

"Not till after she's been to the party, Baby. They'll all be expecting
her."

Kingdon, quite resplendent in the glory of his first Tuxedo jacket, also
looked admiringly at his pretty sister.

"You'll do, Mops," he said. "Come on, let's go. It's just seven."

Mrs. Maynard put a lovely white, hooded cape of her own round Marjorie,
and carefully drew the hood up over her curls.

"See that your bow is perked up after you take this off," said the
mother, as a parting injunction, and then the two children started off.

The parents watched them from the window, as they crossed the street in
the moonlight, and Mrs. Maynard sighed as she said, "They're already
beginning to grow up."

"But we have some littler ones," said her husband, gaily, as he prepared
for a game of romps with Kitty and Rosy Posy.

When King and Marjorie rang the bell at Gladys Fulton's, the door opened
very slowly, and they could hear a low, sepulchral groan.

Midge clung to her brother's arm, for though she knew everything was to
be as weird and grotesque as possible, yet it was delightful to feel the
shudder of surprise.

As the door opened further, they could see that the house was but dimly
lighted, and the hall was full of a deep red glow. This was caused by
putting red shades on the lights and standing a semi-transparent red
screen before the blazing wood-fire in the big fireplace.

The groan was repeated, and then they realized that it said, "Welcome,
welcome!" but in such a wailing voice that it seemed to add to the
gloom. The voice proceeded from a figure draped in a white sheet.

"Hello, Ghost!" said King, who knew that Dick Fulton himself was wrapped
in the sheet.

"O-o-o-o-ugh!" groaned the ghost.

"You don't seem to feel well," said Marjorie, giggling. "Poor Ghost, why
don't you go to bed?"

But before the ghost could speak again, a gorgeous witch came prancing
up, carrying a broomstick wound with red ribbons. The witch was all in
red, with a tall peaked hat of red, covered with cabalistic designs cut
from gilt paper and pasted on. She groaned and wailed, too, and then
spoke in a rapid and unintelligible jargon.

The Maynards knew that this witch was Gladys, but some of the guests did
not know it, and were greatly mystifi