bright light of morning to discover them. They rose hastily,
sighing and slightly depressed now that their fun was over. The white
table-cloth, no longer very white, was packed into the basket, the
ginger-beer bottles placed on top of it and the lid fastened down. Not a
crumb of the feast remained; Rover had demolished the bones and the eight
girls had made short work of everything else, with the exception of the
cherry-stones, which Phyllis carefully collected and popped into a little
hole in the ground.

The party then progressed slowly homeward and once more entered the dark
wood. They were much more silent now; the wood was darker, and the chill
which foretells the dawn was making itself felt in the air. Either the
sense of cold or a certain effect produced by Annie's ridiculous stories,
made many of the little party unduly nervous.

They had only taken a few steps through the wood when Phyllis suddenly
uttered a piercing shriek. This shriek was echoed by Nora and by Mary
Morris, and all their hearts seemed to leap into their mouths when they
saw something move among the trees. Rover uttered a growl, and, but for
Annie's detaining hand, would have sprung forward. The high-spirited girl
was not to be easily daunted.

"Behold, girls, the goblin of the woods," she exclaimed. "Quiet, Rover;
stand still."

The next instant the fears of the little party reached their culmination
when a tall, dark figure stood directly in their paths.

"If you don't let us pass at once," said Annie's voice, "I'll set Rover
at you."

The dog began to bark loudly and quivered from head to foot.

The figure moved a little to one side, and a rather deep and slightly
dramatic voice said:

"I mean you no harm, young ladies; I'm only a gypsy-mother from the tents
yonder. You are welcome to get back to Lavender House. I have then one
course plain before me."

"Come on, girls," said Annie, now considerably frightened, while Phyllis,
and Nora, and one or two more began to sob.

"Look here, young ladies," said the gypsy in a whining voice, "I don't
mean you no harm, my pretties, and it's no affair of mine telling the
good ladies at Lavender House what I've seen. You cross my hand, dears,
each of you, with a bit of silver, and all I'll do is to tell your pretty
fortunes, and mum is the word with the gypsy-mother as far as this
night's prank is concerned."

"We had better do it, Annie--we had better do it," here sobbed Phyllis.
"If this w