Ethel Mortons Holidays | Page 6

wife and a hollow voice
from out the wash boiler will tell you her name."
"I shan't try that one. There's too good a chance for Roger to put in
some of his tricks. What's the next?"
"Take a candle and go to the Witches' Cave--that's the dining
room--and stand in front of the looking glass that's on a little table in
the corner, and eat an apple. The face of your future wife or husband
will appear over your shoulder."
"I'll try that. I could stand a face that kept still, but to have an unknown
creature pulling my yarn and bawling my wife's name would upset my
nerves!"
"Here's the last one. Go into the garden just as we did to pull the kale.
Over at the right hand side there's a stack of barley. It's really corn, but
we've re-christened it for tonight. You measure it three times round
with your arms and at the end of the third round your beloved will rush
into them."
"If he proves to be my cabbage spouse you'll hear loud shrieks from
little Margaret!" declared that young woman.
"Here are my nuts to burn," said Ethel Blue, putting two chestnuts side
by side on the hearth. "One is Della and the other is Ethel Blue," and
she tapped them in turn as she gave them their names.
"What's this for?" asked Della, hearing her name used.
"This is to see if you and I will always be friends. That right hand nut is
you and the left hand is me--no, I." Conscientious Ethel Blue
interrupted herself to correct her grammar. "If we burn cosily side by

side we'll stay friends a long time, but if one of us jumps or burns up
before the other, she'll be the one to break the friendship."
"I hope I shan't be the one," and both girls sat down on the rug to watch
their namesakes closely.
"Here are Margaret and her cabbage man," laughed Tom. "This delicate,
slender chestnut is Margaret and this big round one is Mr. Stalk of the
Cabbage Patch. Now we'll see how that match is going to turn out."
Margaret laughed good naturedly with the rest and they watched this
pair as well as the others.
"Roger and I had a squabble yesterday," admitted Ethel Brown. "Here
is Roger and here is Ethel Brown. Let's see how we are going to get on
in the future."
"Where is Roger really?" some one asked, but at that instant Ethel
Blue's nut and Della's caught fire and burned steadily side by side
without any demonstrations, and every one looking on was so absorbed
in translating the meaning of the blaze that no one pursued the
question.
That is, not until a shriek from the Witches' Cave rang through the
house and sent them all flying to see who was in trouble. Dorothy was
found coming out of the dining room, mirror in hand, and a strange tale
on her lips.
"If there's any truth in this Hallowe'en prophecy," she said with
trembling voice, "my future husband will be worse than Margaret's
cabbage man. The face that looked over my shoulder was exactly like a
jack-o'-lantern's."
"It was? Where's Roger?" Dr. Watkins demanded instantly, while
James hobbled to the front door and announced that the jack had
disappeared from the front porch.
"Did any one ask for Roger?" demanded a cool voice, and Roger was

seen coming down stairs.
"Yes, sir, numerous people asked for Roger. How did you do it?"
"Do what? Has anything happened in my absence?"
"Not a thing has happened in your absence. Just tell us how you
managed it."
"I know," guessed Helen. "He went outside and took the jack from the
porch and carried it through the kitchen, into the dining room where it
smiled over Dorothy's shoulder, and then he went into the kitchen again
and up the back stairs. Wasn't that it, Roger?"
"Young woman, you are wiser than your years," was all that Roger
would say.
While they were teasing him a shouting in the garden sent them all to
the back windows and doors. In the dim light of the young moon two
figures were seen wrestling. It was evidently a good natured struggle,
for peals of laughter fell on the ears of the listeners. When one of them
dragged the other toward the house the figures proved to be Tom
Watkins and George Foster.
"I was measuring the barley stack," explained Tom breathlessly, "and
just as I made the third round and was eagerly expecting my future
bride to rush into my arms, something did rush into my arms, but I'll
leave it to the opinion of the meeting whether this can be my future
bride!" and he held at arm's length