She sacrilegiously yanked from their wire strings the metal dishcloths such as are used for scouring purposes, and truth to tell there was indeed a big collection in the string of armor.

“Let’s try the breastplate,” begged Nellie Saunders.  “I’ve always longed to be a Joan of Arc.”  And she got her pretty hair inside the head cage with the mouth trap under her chin, then she corseted on the breastplate.

“And that’s the ghost?” scoffed Margie Winters, sitting far off in the corner safe from “spiritual” infection.

“Disappointed?” asked Jane.

“Of course I am,” growled Margie.  “I expected a holiday at least to fumigate, and here we have nothing but a lot of perfectly sanitary junk.”

“And I thought we would find a beautiful maniac walled up there,” sighed Velma Sigsbee.  “It’s a perfect shame to have the thing end so unromantically.”

“Hard to suit you youngsters,” commented Jane.  She had fully divested herself of the trappings, and now stood aside while the freshmen surveyed the wreck.  Someone suggested getting up surprise theatricals and bringing before the whole college the “ghosts of Lenox,” This was a fuse to the bomb of excitement, and presently the roll was called, secrecy pledged, and a committee of arrangements appointed.  Prompt freshmen!

“Give Sally Howland a part,” called out Ruth Lawrence.  “She’s just suited for something angelic.”

“We’ll transpose Othello and sprinkle it with cherubs,” said Nellie Saunders, who had been made chairman of the cast.  “But the one thing to remember, girls, is secrecy,” she announced loftily.  “No one outside of Lenox must know what the ghosts are, or anything about the show.”

“You’ll find tons of stuff up there to fit out the entire performance,” Jane informed the excited students.  “It seems to me the things have been stored there for ages, and perhaps were the remains of some very grand affair in the early history of Wellington.  Now, girls, are you fully satisfied the ghost is annihilated?”

“Perfectly,” spoke up Nellie.  “And we just don’t know how to thank you juniors.  Cheers, girls, for our rescuers.”

They cheered with the freshmen’s dirge.

“One, two, button my shoe; three, four, knock at the door” (they knocked at everything).

“Five, six, pick up sticks” (wild grabs).

“Sticks, sticks, freshies can’s mix.”

“Rawr! rawr! freshies all sore” (moans and groans).

“Gore, sore, r-o-a-r” (and they roared)!

“Thanks,” responded Jane when the roar died down, “and we’re glad to be initiated in your sorority.  Have a lovely time and be sure to let us know if you need help with the spook revue.”

Dozia chimed in feebly and slipped out after Jane.

“They were actually disappointed,” she remarked.  “I believe they hoped for real gore.”

“To tell the truth,” admitted Jane, “it did seem a bit commonplace after all the symptoms.  But I almost forgot the little note.  Did you ever yet meet a case in which the written word played no part?  Where did I put that piece of paper?”