dum "and come behind this rubber plant. Now get
down on your hands and knees and follow me."

Tweedle-dee promptly obeyed orders and the next moment was in front of
the spiral stairway which led to the gallery.

"Make yourself as small as possible and crawl on your _stomach_ up this
staircase. At the other end of the gallery is a door leading into our
wing. I can't tell you another thing. Just use your wits," and
Tweedle-dum flitted back to be swallowed up in the crowd of girls who,
once more restored to an equable frame of mind were laughing merrily,
everyone asking everyone else if she knew who the Jack o' Lantern really
was. This very fact was sufficient reassurance for Mrs. Bonnell. She knew
girls better than Miss Woodhull knew them in spite of having _known
nothing_ else for more than forty years, but she resolved then and there
not to ask too many questions, which fact made two girls her slaves for
life. The discipline department was not her province nor was it one which
anything could have induced her to undertake. If Will-o'-the-Wisp was
aware of the name of her partner in the quartette hornpipe, or
Tweedle-dum knew Tweedle-dee's surname Miss Woodhull was the one to find
it out, not she. So smiling upon the group before her she asked:

"Are you now all visible to the naked eye and all accounted for? If so,
let us to the feast, for time is speeding." No urging was needed and lots
were promptly drawn for the privilege of cutting the fate cake. Mrs.
Bonnell had not considered it necessary to mention the fact that she had
ordered Aunt Sally, the cook, to bake one for the occasion, and while
good fellowship and hilarity reign below let us follow two less fortunate
mortals whom the witches seemed to have marked for their sport that
night.

Agreeable with Miss Woodhull's orders, Miss Baylis, who was only too
delighted to shine so advantageously in her superior's eyes, had scuttled
away, issuing as she went, the order to close _all_ outer doors and guard
them, allowing no one to pass through. Guileless souls both hers and Miss
Woodhull's, though another adjective might possibly be more apt. The
house had a few windows as well as doors.

Meeting Miss Stetson on the stairs she found in her a militant coadjutor,
and wireless could not have flashed the orders more quickly. Servants
went a-running until one might have suspected the presence of a criminal
in Leslie Manor rather than a mere boy.

Meanwhile, what of Jack