“This,” he would say, indicating a sheeted figure, “is the ghost of Banquo. We used to play together as boys. And here is the ghost of a man who died a-laughing. You will observe his laughter when I tickle him.” The ghost, when tickled, would give howls of demoniac laughter, in which the other guests involuntarily joined. When all the weird-looking figures had assembled, the fun began. Another room had been prepared as a fortune-telling room, and into this each guest was invited to go, alone, to learn his or her fate. Just who was the fortune-teller was a great secret. No one outside of the Carey family knew who it was who greeted the seekers for knowledge as they entered one by one. But apparently the strange being knew his clients, for many jokes and secrets were exposed, and often the victim came out giggling, but looking a trifle sheepish. Jack was really very fond of Dorothy. Indeed, she was his favorite of all the girls—after Betty, of course. So, when Dorothy went into the Room of the Fates to learn what future fortune might befall her, and came out holding a card in her hand, the others clamored to know what had been told her. Dorothy looked mysterious and refused to tell, but when the boys and girls insisted on seeing what talisman had been given her, and she showed the card, a roar of laughter went up from all. It was a playing-card, the jack of hearts, and ghostly Jack himself seemed quite satisfied with the episode. Every one who went into the Room of the Fates returned with a talisman indicative of their future career. It might be a doctor’s diploma or a fireman’s badge. It might be a thimble, indicating spinsterhood, or a spray of orange-blossom, indicating matrimony. But in every case the souvenir bore sufficient meaning to prove that the fate-dispenser was some one who knew the individual traits of his auditors. When it was Betty’s turn, she entered the Fate Room, determined to guess, if possible, who the wizard was. All of the young people of their set were in evidence as guests, so the mysterious fortune-teller must be some older person or a stranger. As Betty entered, she was met by three draped figures, representing the three Fates. These, she knew, were Harry Harper, Ralph Burnett, and Elmer Ellis, for she and Lena had invited these boys to act these parts. They were robed in brown, flowing draperies, which they did not manage in classic fashion, but kicked about in derision. One carried a distaff, one a ball of cord, and one a pair of shears, in imitation of the traditional three. The room was draped with white sheets, and at the far end was a sort of throne on which sat the Master of the Fates. He was gorgeously robed in a scarlet satin suit and a purple velvet cape edged with ermine. A flowing white wig, bushy white beard and eyebrows, completely disguised his features, while a high, peaked hat added to his wizardy effect.