meadow that rose to the house he started and laid his hand on
Hood's knee.

"Steady, steady! Always give a ghost a chance," murmured Hood.

If the figure that danced across the meadow was a ghost, it was an agile
one, and its costume represented a radical departure from the traditional
garb of spirits doomed to walk the night.

"A boy, kicking up before he goes to bed," suggested Deering, forgetting
his sorrows for the moment as he contemplated the dancing apparition.

"In a clown's suit, if I'm any judge," said Hood, jumping down from the
wall and moving cautiously up the slope. The dancing figure suddenly
darted away through a clump of trees.

"Of course," remarked Hood when they had reached the level where the
figure had executed its fantastic gyrations, "of course, it's none of our
affair; but, in that story I was telling you about, the heroine danced
around at night in strange costumes scaring people to death. I'm not
saying this ghost has read that book--I'm merely stating a fact."

They found a path that zigzagged across the meadow and followed it to the
edge of a ravine. Below they heard the ripple of running water; and as an
agreeable accompaniment some one was whistling softly.

In a moment the rattle of loosened gravel caused them to drop down by the
path. The pantalooned figure came up, still whistling, and paused for a
moment to take breath. Deering, throwing himself back from the path,
grasped a bush. The twigs rattled noisily, and with a frightened "Oh!"
the clown darted away, nimbly and fleetly. They followed a white blur in
the starlight for an instant and heard the patter of light feet.

"A girl," whispered Deering.

"I believe you are right," remarked Hood, feeling about in the grass,
"and here's a part of her costume." He picked up something white and held
it to his face. "She dropped her clown's cap when you began shaking the
scenery. I seem to remember that a girl's hair is sweet like that! In old
times the clown's cap was supposed to possess magic. Son, we have begun
well! A girl masquerading, happy victim of the May madness--this is the
jolliest thing I've struck in years--a girl, out dancing all by her
lonesome under the stars--Columbine playing Harlequin!"

"We might as well be off," he added, relighting his pipe. "We frightened
her ladyship, and she will dance no more to-night. However, we have her
cap, which points the way for to-morrow's work."

"You're going to hang around here w