After holding a conference with Julia, the two girls sent out notices to their respective classes that a grand reunion of the two classes would take place on the next Saturday afternoon at one o’clock, at the old Omnibus House, providing the weather permitted.  A tax of twenty-five cents apiece was levied on the members of both classes.  “Please pay your money promptly to the treasurer of your class,” ended the notices, “if you wish to have plenty to eat.  Important rites and ceremonies will be observed.  You will be sorry if you stay away, as an interesting program is promised.  Please keep this notice a secret.”

“The field back of the Omnibus House is an ideal place for the burial,” Julia told Grace.  “It was there that the ‘Black Monks of Asia’ held their revel and were unmasked by the freshmen.  Besides, it’s quiet and we shan’t be disturbed.”

Grace agreed with her, and the two girls outlined the proceedings with many a chuckle.

The junior and sophomore classes had been requested to go directly to the Omnibus House.

“It would be great to have both classes march out there, but we should have the whole of Oakdale marching with us before we arrived at the sacred spot,” observed Grace, with a giggle.

“If we don’t have a lot of freshmen to suppress it will be surprising.  I do hope the girls haven’t told anyone,” Julia answered.  “By the way, we have a hatchet at home that will be just the thing to bury.  It is more like a battle-ax than anything else, and looks formidable enough to represent the feeling that the juniors and sophomores are about to bury.  Now, Grace, you must prepare a speech, for we ought to have representative remarks from both classes.  Then Anne Pierson must recite ’The Bridge of Sighs,’ after I have made it over to suit the occasion.  We’ll have to have some pallbearers.  Three girls from each class will do.”

Julia planned rapidly and well.  Grace listened attentively.  The junior captain had remarkable energy.  It was easy to see why Julia had always headed her class.  Julia in turn, was equally impressed with Grace’s ability.  A mutual admiration society bade fair to spring up between the two, so recently at swords’ points.

On Saturday the weather left nothing to be desired.  It seemed like a day in late spring, although it was in reality early March.  At one o’clock precisely the two classes, with the exception of one member, assembled.  Julia Crosby acting as master of ceremonies, formed the classes in two lines, and marched them to the middle of the field.  Here, to their complete mystification, they saw a large hole about four feet in depth had been dug.

“Who on earth dug that hole, and what is it for?” inquired a curious sophomore.

“Hush!” said Julia Crosby reverently.  “That is a grave.  Be patient.  Curb your rising curiosity.  Soon you shall know all.”

“Assistant Master Harlowe, will you arrange the esteemed spectators, so that the ceremony may proceed?”