Within five minutes she had returned, bristling with information.  “I found out the whole story,” she declared.  “It is an old white house not far from Hunter’s Rock.  Two brothers once lived there, and one disappeared.  It was rumored that he had been killed by his older brother, and that the spirit of the murdered man haunted the place so persistently that the other brother left there and never came back.  They say a white figure, carrying a lighted candle, walks moaning through the rooms.”

“How dreadful!” shivered Anne.  “It is bad enough to think of those girls coaxing Elfreda to go there.  I believe they intend to persuade her to go there, then leave her, too.”

“We might show Elfreda this note,” reflected Miriam.  “No; on second thought I should say we’d better make up a crowd and follow the others to Hunter’s Rock.  Of course, we won’t stay there.  Those girls are breaking rules by going there at night.  We shall be breaking rules, too, but in a good cause.”

A long conversation ensued that would have aroused consternation in the breast of a number of sophomores, had they been privileged to hear it.  When the last detail had been arranged, Grace leaned back in her chair and smiled.  “I think everything will go beautifully,” she said, “and several people are going to be surprised.  Miriam, will you see Mabel Ashe, Constance Fuller and Frances Marlton in the morning?  Anne, will you look out for Arline Thayer and Ruth?  That will leave Leona Rowe and Helen Burton for me, and, oh, yes, I’ll have a talk with Emma Dean.”

To all appearances, Friday dawned as prosaically as had all the other days of that week, but in the breasts of a number of the students of Overton stirred an excitement that deepened as the day wore on.  As is frequently the case, the object of it all went calmly on her way, taking a smug satisfaction in the thought that she was the only freshman invited to the select gathering of sophomores who were to brave the censure of the dean, and picnic by moonlight at Hunter’s Rock.  For almost the first time since her arrival at college Elfreda felt her own popularity.  Despite her native shrewdness, she was particularly susceptible to flattery.  To be the idol of the college had been one of her most secret and hitherto hopeless desires.  Now, in the sophomore class she had found girls who really appreciated her, and who were ready to say pleasant things to her rather than lecture her.  She was glad, now, that she had dropped Grace and her friends in time, and resolved next year that she would put the width of the campus between herself and Wayne Hall.

As she slipped on her long blue serge coat that night—­the air was chilly, though the day had been warm—­a flush of triumph mounted to her cheeks.  Then glancing at the clock she hurriedly adjusted her hat.  Her appointment was for half-past seven.  Alberta said the party was to be in honor of her and she must not keep her friends waiting.  She looked sharply about her to see who was in sight.  She had been pledged to secrecy.  Alberta had said they would return before half-past ten, so there would be no need of asking Mrs. Elwood to leave the door unlocked for her.  Then she walked briskly down the steps and up the street.