swung herself down from the limb,
and went into the house for the key. The little cottage where Ann Fowler
lived stood just across the lane from her Uncle John's big brown house,
where she was staying while her mother was away from home. Mrs. Fowler,
who had been called to the city by her sister's illness, had taken
little Betty with her, but Ann could not afford to miss school and had
been left in her Aunt Sally's care. The arrangement was very agreeable
to the child, for it meant no dish-wiping, no dusting, no running of
errands while she was a guest. Her only task was to go across the lane
twice a day and feed the chickens.

As Ann came out of the house swinging the key, her aunt called her
again: "Mrs. Grayson was here to-day. She came to invite you and Lottie
to a Saturday afternoon romp with her little girls to-morrow. She's
asked a dozen boys and girls to come and play all afternoon and stay to
tea. Her oldest daughter, Jennie, is going to give a Hallowe'en party at
night, but she'll send you home in the carryall after tea, before the
foolishness begins."

"Didn't she invite us to the party too?" asked Ann, who had heard it
discussed at school all week by the older girls and boys of the
neighbourhood, until her head was full of the charms and mysteries of
Hallowe'en.

"Why, of course not," was the answer. "Jennie Grayson is fully eighteen
years old and wouldn't want you children tagging around."

"But we can't work any charms in the afternoon," said Ann, "They won't
come true unless you wait till midnight to do 'em. I found a long list
of 'em in an old book at home and gave them to Jennie. I think she might
have asked me. I'd love to try my fate walking down cellar backwards
with a looking-glass in one hand and a candle in the other. They say
that you can see the reflection of the man you're going to marry looking
over your shoulder into the glass."

"Why, Ann Fowler!" exclaimed her aunt in a horrified tone, lifting up
both hands in her astonishment. "I didn't think it of a little girl like
you! Don't you go to putting any foolish notions like that into Lottie's
head. Fate indeed! It would be more like your fate to fall down cellar
and break the looking-glass and set yourself on fire. No, indeed!
Lottie shouldn't go to such a party if she had a dozen invitations."

Ann hurried away wishing that she had not spoken. She had an
uncomfortable feeling that her aunt considered her almost wicked,
because she had