The Halloween Party

The Halloween Party By Elizabeth Cannon Porter

Would the Halloween party decide whether Gwinevere Dal- ton would marry Fred Bright or George Paul? People thought that it would. Both men were far gone and would force a decision before long. Yet each showed it in different ways. Bright sent flowers and bon bons, escorted Miss Dalton to the theatre, spent long evenings in the Dalton sitting room playing the victrola, and neglected his college work. Young Paul, it was reported, did not sleep at night and took long rides alone gloomily over the mesa. The two men were direct opposites. Fred was clever, pol- ished, an entertaining talker. George was rough, primeval, silent. Fred was untried yet, having gone to school all his life; George had taken charge of his father's cattle ranch. The town folks wondered which Gwinevere, with her flower-like face and butterfly ways, would choose. Speculation ran high. It was hinted that there would be a game at the party, fol- lowing out a Halloween superstition, by which a girl lights a candle in front of a mirror, and sees the face of her future hus- band over her left shoulder. Perhaps Gwinevere would con- trive to have the man she meant to marry so placed that she would see him over her left shoulder. On the eve of All Saints' Day, when goblins are supposed to walk abroad, the southern moon, as big as a dishpan poured its glory on the scene and disclosed white-clad figures approach- ing the Dalton house. These "ghosts," draped in sheets, ascend- ed a ladder and gained entrance through French doors in the second story. Thence they descended the staircase to the dark hall, whose only illumination was from the dim light in the '"Witches' Cavern," at one end of it. This cave was constructed entirely of pine boughs which Gwinevere and George had obtained up the "wash" the day be- fore. Sitting her horse easily while George climbed the trees, she had marveled at his strength while he tore the branches from the trees with his muscular arms. Then he tied the limbs to the pommels of the saddles. "We will look like Birnam's wood come to town," she laughed. On the way back they passed a lone cedar tree on the prairie. While their horses stood very close together he plucked a bit of it and fastened it in his gray flannel shirt over his heart. "It means, T live for thee,' " he murmured. But, of course, the guests knew nothing of that. They filed

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into the sitting room, and when they were all assembled, a prize was given to a very tall ghost for the best costume. The prize was brought in in a gunny-sack. It proved to be a black cat which promptly scratched its new master and jumped out of the window. The guests then doffed their uniforms and played charades. Gwinevere, with her glinting curls and exquisite coloring, looked like a Dresden china-shepherdess come to life. She wore blue asters against her pink dress, and Fred noticed with exultation that they were caught with the silver butterfly that he had given her. The young people divided into two parties. Half of them v/ent into the adjoining room to conspire together. Presently the folding doors opened and Lucy Dolliver on the arm of big Jim Anderson walked in. She wore a window curtain draped down her back. Fred stepped up and struck her on the back. That she was a "bride" the other side guessed, but the rest of it they couldn't get. Finally they gave it up. The Bride of Lammermoor, their opponents announced, with a laugh. The girls then stayed in the drawing room, the boys in the sitting room and amused themselves scooping the insides out of red apples and cutting grotesque faces in them. Each girl was taken out separately, and introduced into a dark closet where fhe lighted a candle on a dressing table, then looked expectantly into the mirror. In the meantime one of the boys had been smuggled in be- hind a curtain so his head rose above it and was reflected in the mirror over the girl's left shoulder. Many were the queer com- binations and much the hilarity that resulted. Some of them worked out all right, of course. Little Elsie Higgins beheld the moon face of Andrew Jones beaming at her bashfully. Billy Pffkins, who didn't have a girl, lamented loudly that a married woman had been rung in on him. "No, and you hadn't better let her husband know you've been posing over her left shoulder, either," joshed Allen Dale. When Jen Earl beheld the visage of lanky Jim Anderson, with its protruding ears, over her shoulder she got so excited that she kicked the curtain. Most of the girls had beheld their fate when Gwinevere, true to Halloween custom, brought in a pan of raisins burning in a blue alcohol flame. The young folks scrambled to seize the raisins from the fire. The flame burst up in Miss Dalton's face and fearing for her hair she set the pan hastily in the middle of the table. The blue tongues shot upward. Though the alcohol flame was not particularly dangerous in itself, it set fire to a mass of artificial foliage draped from the chandelier. It went up in a roaring blaze. Pandemonium broke loose. Most of the

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guests rushed pell mell into the next room. Others stood par- alyzed. Gwinevere gazed upward in horror. Mrs. Dalton ran in from the kitchen, gave one look at the pillar of fire reaching the ceiling, and shrieked. In an instant George had whipped off his coat, jumped on a chair and beat the flames blow after blow with his outer gar- ment. The chandelier rocked as if the whole thing would come smashing down. The fire gave way, and clouds of smoke floated out to choke the guests. Finally the flames died out and George pulled down the smouldering debris with his bare hands. A sigh of relief went round, and doors and windows were opened to let out the rolling clouds of smoke. The center of the ceiling was black showing that the fire had already gained a foothold in the entrails of the house. The hostess, breathing a great thankfulness that no more damage was done, called her guests to supper. The dining room was a symphony in gold and russet. The lights were candles set in grinning pumpkin heads. The decora- tions were bronze chrysanthemums and autumn leaves. The salad snuggled in green pepper cups and jelly trembled on blackberry leaves. Fruit baskets of yellow pumpkins upheld golden oranges and belated grapes. Chicken, sweet potato pie, and the comforting aroma of hot chocolate, made the guests forget the recent ordeal they had passed through. Gwinevere sat by Fred and talked gaily to him while George watched her with hurt eyes across the table. His coat was scorched, his hands burned, but he had refused to allow them to be dressed. His eyes haunted Gwinevere. She could not bear to meet them. So she looked down at her plate and gave preoccupied answers to Fred's sallies of wit. "Whom did Gwin see in the mirror tonight?" asked Jean of her supper partner. "Nobody. She didn't go in." "Well, it looks as if George has a sore heart as well as a sore hand. After all his hero act, too." Immediately after supper, George took his departure. As he went out the front door he heard his name faintly called from the back of the hall. He re-entered. Then the faint scent of lilacs that he knew so well assailed him. "I have something for you." She came toward him. "Gwinevere." His heart stood still. — "It — it is just a bit of cedar which means 'I live for thee.' * Georffe reached out for the hand that held it. "Oh!" he exclaimed. Then as the full force of what it meant came to him, trembling, as only a strong man can trem- ble, when the gift of the world is laid at his feet — he drew her toward him!