CHAPTER

    I the get-together
   II A shadow in forecast
  III the misfit freshman
   IV thrilling news
    V threats and defiance
   VI Jane and Judith
  VII A queer mix-up
 VIII to the rescue
   IX what happened to Judith
    X the interlude
   XI A twice told tale
  XII A wild night of it
 XIII the aftermath
  XIV pleading for time
   XV the picket and the spook
  XVI the hidden chamber
 XVII “Behold the ghost of Lenox hall!”
XVIII faithful frolic
  XIX the miracle
   XX Touchstone
  XXI cramming events
 XXII startling disclosures
XXIII the dance
 XXIV King pin of the freshies
  XXV the day after the big night
 XXVI A surprise in records
XXVII the real story

CHAPTER I

The get together.

The late September day waved back at Summer graceful as a child saying goodbye with a soft dimply hand; and just as fitful were the gleams of warm sunshine that lazed through the stately trees on the broad campus of Wellington College.  It was a brave day—­Summer defying Nature, swishing her silken skirts of transparent iridescence into the leaves already trembling before the master hand of Autumn, with his brush poised for their fateful stroke of poisoned beauty; every last bud of weed or flower bursting in heroic tribute, and every breeze cheering the pageant in that farewell to Summer.

“If school didn’t start just now,” commented Norma Travers, “I wonder what we would do?  Everything else seems to stop short.”

“I never saw shadows come and go so weirdly on any other first day,” added Judith Stearns ominously.  “I hope it doesn’t mean a sign, as Velma Sigbee would put it,” and dark eyed Judith waved her arms above her black head to ward off the blow.

“Is it too early to suggest science?” lisped Maud Leslie timidly.  “I’ve been reading about the possible change of climate and its relation to the sun’s rays going wild into space.  I don’t want to start anything, but it might be judicious to buy more furs next Summer.  Also it might justify the premonitory fad.”

“Don’t you dare,” warned Ted Guthrie, puffing beneath her prettiest crocheted sweater and rolling down from her chosen mound on the natural steps of the poplar tree slope.  “It’s bad enough to think of icy days up here, far, far away from the happy laughing world of hot chocolate and warm movie seats,” and she rolled one more step nearer the boxwood lined path, “but to tag on science, and insinuate we are to be glazed mummies, ugh!” and the redoubtable Ted groaned a grunt that threatened havoc to the aforesaid handsome sweater.

“There, there, Teddy dear, don’t take on so,” soothed Maud, rescuing the other’s new silver pencil that was rapidly sliding further away from Ted with the pretty open hand bag.  “I had entirely forgotten how you despise ice sports.  And you so lovely and fat for falling.  You should love ’em,” insisted the studious Maud.