nts. She didn't object
to charity girls, so long as she knew they were of _good_ family, but
she drew the line at _servants'_ families. She said that Gwendolyn had
heard you, yourself, tell Miss Tross-Kingdon that I was mischievous
and she must look out for me."

"My dear, my dear! Surely no fair-minded girl could have so
misunderstood me, even admitting that I did say that--which I fail to
remember. As to that silly notion about the 'haunting' business, Betty
Calvert's niece should be able to laugh at that. Absurd, absurd! Now
tell me again what your fancy is about this Hallowe'en Party."

"Why, sir, things can't be done without folks do them, can they?"

"That's a poser; but I'll grant your premises. Proceed with the
argument," answered the old gentleman, merrily.

"Well, I thought, somehow, that if everybody was allowed to dress in
character and wear some sort of a mask, the one who had played such
pranks and frightened Grace and the maids might be found out. If
anybody in this house owns such a mask as that horrid one and is mean
enough to scare little girls, he or she wouldn't lose so good a chance
of scaring a lot more. Don't you think so? And--and--there's something
else I ought to tell, but am afraid. Miss Muriel gets so stern every
time the thing is mentioned that I put it off and off. I can tell you
though, if you wish."

"Certainly, I wish you would."

The gentleman's face had grown as serious now, and almost as stern, as
the Lady Principal's at similar times; and Dorothy gave a sigh to
bolster her own courage as she gravely announced:

"When I took out my white shoes to wear them last evening, there was a
skull and cross-bones on each one, done with red paint: and the tube
of vermilion had been taken from my own oil color box. Now--what do
you think of that?"

Her listener pursed his lips in a silent whistle, which indicated
great amazement in a man like him, but he said nothing. Only, for a
moment he drew the girl to him and looked searchingly into her brown
eyes. But they looked back at him with a clear, straightforward gaze
that pleased him and made him exclaim:

"Well, little Betty--whom you always seem to me--we're in a scrape
worthy of old Bellevieu. We've got to get out of it, somehow. You try
your scheme of playing masked detective first. If you fail in proving
our innocence and some other youngster's roguery, I'll tackle the
matter myself. For this nonsense is hurtful to Oak Knowe. That I