es to leave the house after dark, but not one of them could resist
the temptation, so out they sped to the cabbage patch.

Now when Prissie ran to her bedroom, ostensibly to get a wrap, she had
really gone with quite other intentions. She had certainly put on a long
dark coat and a soft felt hat, but the whole gist of the matter lay in
something that she slipped into her pocket. It was a black mustache that
she had brought to school for use in theatricals, and lay handy in her
top drawer. She had hastily smeared the under side of it with soap, so
that it would adhere to her lip, and once out in the garden, she fell
behind the others and fixed it in position. Then she made a _detour_
behind some bushes, so as to conceal herself from the party.

Presently, under the bright moon and scudding clouds, eight
much-thrilled girls were hurriedly pulling away at cabbage stalks, and
estimating, by the amount of earth that came up with them, the wealth of
their future husbands. The general surroundings and the associations of
the evening were sufficient to send shivers down their spines. Gowan,
looking up suddenly, saw standing among the bushes a dark figure with a
heavy black mustache, and she caught her breath with a gasp, and
clutched at Carmel's arm. For an instant eight horrified faces stared at
the apparition, then Dulcie made a dive in its direction, and dragged
forth Prissie.

"You wretch!"

"What a mean trick to play!"

"You didn't take _me_ in!"

"It was very clever, though!"

"You really looked just like a spook!"

"Take it off now!"

"No, _no_!" said Prissie. "Leave me alone! I haven't finished. Hush! I
believe somebody else is coming to try the ordeal. Slip behind that
cucumber-frame and hide, and let us see who it is. Quick! You'll be
caught!"

The girls made a swift, but silent, dash for the shadow of the
cucumber-frame, and concealed themselves only just in time. They were
barely hidden when footsteps resounded on the gravel, and a figure
advanced from the direction of the house. It came alone, and it carried
something in its hand. In the clear beams of the moonlight, the Mafia
had no difficulty in recognizing Laurette, and could see that what she
bore was her bedroom mirror. They chuckled inwardly. Most evidently she
had sallied forth to try the white magic of Hallowe'en, and to make the
spell work more securely had come alone to consult the cabbage oracle.

First she placed her mirror on the ground,