Ethel Mortons Holidays | Page 8

awed whisper as a sound like the wind whistling through pine
trees fell on their ears, resolving itself as they listened into the words,
"Come! Come! Come!"
Quietly they arose and tiptoed their way toward the dining room. They
could only enter it by penetrating the thicket of boughs that barred the
door. As they came nearer the voice retreated--"Almost as if it were
going into the kitchen," whispered Margaret to Tom who happened to
be next to her. The only light in the room came from a pan of alcohol
and salt burning greenly in a corner and casting an unnatural hue over
their faces. The black cats, their eyes touched with phosphorus, glared
down from the plate rail.
Again the voice was heard:--"Gather, gather about the festal board."
"We must obey the witches," urged Helen, and they sat down in the
chairs which they found placed at the table in just the right number.
Into the dim room from the kitchen came two figures dressed in long
black capes and pointed red hats and bearing each a dish heaped high
with cakes of some sort.
"I just have to tell you what these are," said Ethel Brown in her natural
voice as she and Ethel Blue marched around the table and placed one
dish before Roger at one end and another before Helen at the other. "It's
sowens."
"Sowens? What in the world are sowens?" everybody questioned.

"Grandfather told us that Burns says that sowens eaten with butter
always make the Hallowe'en supper, so we looked up in the Century
Dictionary how to make them and this is the result."
"Do you think they're safe?" inquired Della.
"There's a doctor here to take care of us if anything happens," laughed
James. "I'm game. Give me a chance at them."
Roger and Helen began a distribution of the cakes.
"Sowens is--or are--good," decided Dr. Watkins, tasting his cake
slowly, and pronouncing judgment on it after due deliberation.
"We tried them yesterday to make sure they were eatable by Americans,
and we thought they were pretty good, smoking hot, with butter on
them, just as Burns directed."
"Right. They are," agreed all the boys promptly, and the girls agreed
with them, though they were not quite so enthusiastic in their
expression of appreciation as the boys.
Baked apples, nuts and raisins, countless cookies of various lands and
hot gingerbread made an appetizing meal. As it was coming to an end
Helen rapped on the table.
"Please let me pretend this is a club meeting for a minute or two instead
of a party. I want to tell the people here who aren't members of the U. S.
C. what it is we are trying to do."
"We know," responded George. "You're working for the Christmas
Ship. Didn't I dance in your minuet?"
"We are working for the Christmas Ship, but that is only one thing that
the Club does."
"What do the initials mean?" asked Gregory.
"United Service Club. You see Father is in the Navy and Uncle Richard

is in the Army so we have the United Service in the family. But that is
just a family pun. The real purpose of the Club is to do some service for
somebody whenever we can."
"Something on the Boy Scout idea of doing a kindness every day,"
nodded Dr. Watkins.
"Just now it's the Christmas Ship and after that sails we'll hunt up
something else. Why I told you about it now is because we planned to
go out in a few minutes and go up and down some of the streets, and--"
"Lift gates?" asked Gregory.
"No, not lift gates. That's the point. We couldn't very well be a service
club and do mean things to people just for the fun of it."
"Oh, lifting gates isn't mean."
"Isn't it! I don't believe you'd find it enormously entertaining to hunt up
your gate the next day and re-hang it, would you?"
Gregory admitted that perhaps it would not.
"So we're going out to play good fairies instead of bad ones, and if any
of you knows anybody we can do a good turn to, please speak up."
"That's the best scheme I've heard in some time," said Edward Watkins
admiringly. "Let's start. I'm all impatience to be a good fairy."
So they said "good-night" to Dicky, bundled into their coats and each
one of the boys took a jack-o'-lantern to light the way. Roger also
carried a kit that bulged with queer shapes, and the girls each had a
parcel whose contents was not explained by the president.
"Lead the way, Roger," she commanded as they left the house.
"Church Street first," he answered.
"Church Street? I wonder if he's going to do Mother and me a good

turn," giggled Dorothy.
It