held her position.

The freshmen had challenged the sophomores to play against them on the
first Saturday afternoon in November. It was now the latter part of
October and both teams were utilizing as much of their spare time as
possible in preparing for the fray.

"Are you going to practice this afternoon?" whispered Geraldine Macy to
Marjorie as they left the algebra class on Monday morning.

Marjorie nodded.

"Oh, dear," grumbled Jerry under her breath. "I wanted to talk to you
about the Hallowe'en party."

"What Hallowe'en party?" asked Marjorie, opening her eyes.

"Haven't you your invitation?" It was Jerry's turn to look surprised.

"I don't even know what you're talking about."

Their entrance into the study hall put an end to the conversation. It
was renewed at noon, however, when Jerry, Irma, Marjorie and Constance
trooped out of the school building together, a seemingly contented
quartet.

"Just imagine, girls," announced Jerry, excitedly. "Marjorie doesn't
know a thing about the Hallowe'en party. She hasn't her invitation
either. I think that's awfully queer."

"I haven't mine, but I know all about it," put in Constance Stevens,
quietly.

"Who has charge of the invitations?" asked Marjorie.

"Miss Arnold. You'd better see her about yours to-day. Of course you
both want to go."

"But what is it and where is it held?" questioned Marjorie.

"It's a big dance. Weston High School, that's the boys' school, gives a
party to Sanford High on every Hallowe'en night. It's a town
institution and as unchangeable as any law the Medes and Persians ever
thought of making," informed Jerry.

"Oh, how splendid!" exclaimed Marjorie. "I should like to know some nice
Sanford boys, and I love to dance!"

"Then you ought to meet my brother Hal," declared Jerry, solemnly, "for
he's the nicest, handsomest, best boy I know."

"Wait until you see the Crane," laughed Irma Linton. "He's the tallest
boy in high school. He's six feet two inches now. They say he hasn't
stopped growing, either, and he is awfully thin. That's why the boys
call him the 'Crane.' He doesn't mind it a bit. His real name is Sherman
Norwood, but no one ever calls him that except the teachers."

During the rest of the walk home the coming dance was the sole subject
under discussion. Yes, the girls wore evening gowns, if they had them.
Lots of girls wore their best summer dresses. The leading caterer of
Sanford always had charge of the refreshmen