Cathalina and Hilary, on reaching their suite after the study bell rang, plunged into lessons with determination. “I feel like letting down on Friday,” said Hilary, “but if I do, I don’t get through. (I’m a natural poet, Cathalina.) Saturday always has so many things and Saturday night I can hardly ever study.” “Yes; I’ve noticed that, too,” returned Cathalina. Time flew and the work was scarcely done when the gong released Greycliff girls from study for a half hour before the lights must be out. “We aren’t to go till ‘ten bells,’” Grace said, “so why not keep on working until we’re through?” “We’d have to explain to Miss Matthews when she looks in to see if we’re here.” “I’ll do that if you hate to,” said Hilary, who had taken all sorts of disagreeable responsibilities all her life—for other people. “We’ll lay out the sheets and things, then, and she’ll see.” From the halls came the noise of girls running past, getting fresh water, visiting, laughing and talking till once again the gong rang. Miss Matthews did not come. Hilary and Cathalina donned their sheets and made their masks without having to explain why their lights were not out, and by the time they were ready it was nearly “ten bells”. “O, _isn’t_ this fun!” exclaimed Cathalina. “I wonder just what we shall do!” Ghostly figures glided down the halls to be silently admitted by a sheeted doorkeeper, on presenting the required pass, a slip of paper on which a skull and crossbones were drawn. “O, forgot,” whispered one. “I’ll run and get it.” “O, no you needn’t,” replied the kind ghost at the door. “It was just for fun.” Eloise and Grace with Juliet and Pauline now occupied one of the larger suites, and a jolly time they had of it. Tonight the central study room was cleared from obstruction and a circle of cushions made, to which the ghosts were pointed as they entered. Only the moonlight streaming in through the big windows furnished guidance, though occasional flashes of electricity from the hands of some hostess ghost showed the preparation for more light if necessary. “Do ghosts use flashlights?” queried Avalon. “Remember the will-o’-the-wisps,” replied Cathalina. The circle complete, slips of paper were passed around and a slim white figure took her place in the center of the circle. Reaching to the electric fixture above her, she turned on the light and in the hollow whisper directed the ghosts to print in large letters their names “in life” and pin them on “with a thorn from the Witches’ Glen!” Real thorns were offered in a large pin try. “Within the circle you will find Other papers to your mind; Write a good and ghostly verse; ’Spress yourself in language terse.” “That must be Elizabeth Barrett Browning at least!” quoth one ghost. “Too much like work!” complained another, in a ghostly whisper. “It doesn’t have to rhyme. Write anything you choose. It is supposed to be your message from the Land of Ghosts.” “Do we have to be women?” “No.”