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Jen drew back and stared at the young man in angry surprise. David stared sullenly at the ground, but in a moment or two he lifted his head in a defiant manner. Patricia flung herself on her sister, overwhelming her in a flurry of pink kimono and white arms. "Tell me!" she cried. "Tell me this minute, you aggravating thing! You're getting to be a regular miser of your news—you won't give up till it's dragged out of you. Speak, or I'll have your life!".

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"Or her," added the major. "For all I know that black witch may have something to do with the crime. Likely enough, if she knows how to manipulate the devil-stick." "Mercy sakes, we'll be torn to tatters!" cried Miss Jinny from behind her veil. "Good thing we're done up good and tight. Lands! There goes my whisk—no, they don't either, it's only the veil. Oh, for pity's sake, woman, let me through without any palaver! Can't you tell I'm a female?" The attendant, who at the sight of Miss Jinny's bushy beard had thrust a sturdy arm across the door, dropped the barrier with a snort of laughter, and they were inside the swinging door of the cloak room, with a flushed maid waiting for their wraps, and an edge line of muffled newcomers pushing at their backs. "We'll find out tomorrow night," said Patricia, readily. "And now that the costumes are all done, tomorrow night can't come too soon for me." "'He or she,'" repeated Jen, slowly. "Dido I mentioned; but 'he!' who is 'he?'".