Ruth Fielding At Sunrise Farm; What Became of the Raby Orphans. Emerson Alice B.

– ran away with each other, were married without the father’s approval, and both are supposed to have died miserably in a studio-garret.

      “The heart-broken father naturally left his cur-r-r-se upon the fountain, and it is said – mind you, this is hearsay,” added Ruth, solemnly, “that whenever anything of moment is about to transpire at Briarwood Hall, or any calamity befall, the strings of the marble harp held in the hands of Harmony, are heard to twang.

      “Of course, as has been pointed out before, the fact that the harp is in the shape of a lyre, must be considered, too, if one is to accept this legend. But, however, and nevertheless,” pursued Ruth, “it has been decided that the candidates here assembled must join in the Mackintosh March, and, in procession, led by our Outer Guard and followed – not to say herded– by our Rear Guard, must proceed once around the campus, down into the garden, and circle the fountain, chanting, as you have been instructed, the marching song.

      “All ready! You all have your mackintoshes, as instructed? Into them at once,” commanded Ruth. “Into line – one after the other. Now, Outer Guard!”

      The lights were extinguished; the blanket at the door was removed; Madge Steele led the way and Heavy, as the Rear Guard, was last in the line. Shrouded in the hoods of the mackintoshes, scarcely one of the girls would have been recognized by any curious teacher or matron.

      Ruth hopped down from the bed, and the remaining Sweetbriars ran giggling to the windows. It was a drizzly, dark night. The paths about the campus glistened, and the lamps upon the posts flickered dimly.

      Out of the front door filed the procession; when they were far enough away from the buildings which surrounded the campus, they began the chant, based upon Tom Moore’s famous old song:

      “The harp that once through Briarwood Hall

              The  soul  of  music  shed,

          Now  hangs  as  mute  o’er  the  campus  fount

              As  though  that  soul  were  dead.”

      Madge Steele, with her strong voice, led the chant. The girls, crowded at the open windows, began to giggle, for they could hear Heavy, at the end of the procession, sing out a very different verse.

      “That rascal ought to be fined for that,” murmured The Fox, the sandy-haired girl next to Ruth.

      “But, isn’t she funny?” gasped Helen, on the other side of the Chief of the S. B.’s.

      “Oh, dear!” exclaimed Belle Tingley. “I hope Sarah Fish got there ahead of them. Won’t they be surprised when they get a baptism of a glass of water each from the fountain, as they go by?”

      “They’ll think the statue has come to life, sure enough, if it doesn’t twang the lyre,” quoth Helen.

      “They’ll get an unexpected ducking,” giggled Lluella Fairfax.

      “It won’t hurt them,” Ruth said, placidly. “That’s why I insisted upon the mackintoshes.”

      “It’s just as dark down there by the fountain as it can be,” spoke Helen, with a little shiver. “D’you remember, Ruthie, how they hazed us there when we were Infants?”

      “Don’t I!” agreed her chum.

      “If Sarah is careful, she can stand right up there against the statue and never be seen, while she can reach the water to throw it at the girls easily. There!” cried Belle. “They’re turning down the walk to the steps. I can see them.”

      They all could see them – dimly. Like shadows the procession descended to the marble fountain, still chanting softly the refrain of the marching song. Suddenly a shriek – a very vigorous and startling sound – rang out across the campus.

      “It’s begun!” giggled Belle.

      But the sound was repeated – then in a thrilling chorus. Ruth was startled. She exclaimed:

      “That wasn’t either of the candidates. It was Sarah who screamed. There! It is Sarah again. Something has happened!”

      Something certainly had happened. There had been an unexpected fault somewhere in the initiation. The procession burst like a bombshell, and the girls scattered through the wet campus, utterly terrified, and screaming as they ran.

      CHAPTER II – THE WILD GIRL

      “Something awful must have occurred!” cried Helen Cameron.

      Ruth did not remain at the window for more than a moment after seeing the girls engaged in the initiation disperse, and hearing their screams. She drew back from the crowding group and darted out of the room. Fortunately neither the French teacher, nor the matron, had yet been aroused. If the girls came noisily into the dormitory building, Ruth knew very well that “the powers that be” must of necessity take cognizance of the infraction of the rules.

      The girl from the Red Mill sped down the broad stairway and out of the house. Some of the fastest runners among the frightened girls were already panting at the steps.

      “Hush! hush!” commanded Ruth. “What is the matter? What has happened?”

      “Oh! it’s the ghost!” declared one girl.

      “So’s your grandmother’s aunt!” snapped another. “Somebody shoved Sarah into the water. It was no ghost.”

      It was Madge Steele who last spoke, and Ruth seized upon the senior, believing she might get something like a sensible explanation from her.

      “You girls go into the house quietly,” warned Ruth, as they scrambled up the stone steps. “Don’t you dare make a noise and get us all into trouble.”

      Then she turned upon Madge, begging: “Do, do tell me what you mean, Madge Steele. Who pushed Sarah?”

      “That’s what I can’t tell you. But I heard Sarah yelling that she was pushed, and she did most certainly fall right into the fountain when she climbed up there beside the statue.”

      “What a ridiculous thing!” giggled Ruth. “Somebody played a trick on her. I guess she was fooled instead of the candidates being startled, eh?”

      “I saw somebody – or something – drop off the other side of the fountain and run – I saw it myself,” declared Madge.

      “Here comes Sarah,” cried Ruth, under her breath. “And I declare she is all wet!”

      Sarah Fish was actually laughing, but in a hysterical way.

      “Oh, dear me! was ever anything so ridiculous before?” she gasped.

      “Hush! Don’t get Miss Picolet after us,” begged Madge.

      “What really happened?” demanded Ruth, eagerly.

      “Why – I’ll tell you,” replied Sarah, whose gown clung to her as though it had been pasted upon her figure. “See? I’m just soaked. Talk about sprinkling those silly lambs of candidates! Why, I was immersed – you see.”

      “But how?”

      “I slipped over there before the procession started from these steps. I was watching the girls, and listening to them sing, and didn’t pay much attention to anything else.

      “But when I dodged down into the little garden, I thought I heard a footstep on the flags. I looked all around, and saw nothing. Now I know the person must have already climbed up on the fountain and gotten into the shadow of the statue – just as I wanted to do.”

      “Was there really somebody there?” demanded Madge.

      “How do you think I got into the fountain, if not?” snapped Sarah Fish.

      “Fell in.”

      “I did not!” cried Sarah. “I was pushed.”

      “‘Did She Fall, or Was She Pushed?’” giggled Madge. “Sounds like a moving picture title.”

      “You