designation after entrance. It was a proud day for her.

By the time the twins had finished washing the supper dishes, it was
dark. Constance glanced out of the window apprehensively. She now
remembered that eight o'clock was very, very late, and that the barn
was a long way from the house! And up in the haymow, too! And such a
mysterious bloody society! Her heart quaked within her. So she
approached the twins respectfully, and said in an offhand way:

"I can go any time now. Just let me know when you're ready, and I'll
go right along with you."

But the twins stared at her again in an amazing and overbearing
fashion, and vouchsafed no reply. Connie, however, determined to keep
a watchful eye upon them, and when they started barnward, she would
trail closely along in their rear. It was a quarter to eight, and
fearfully dark, when she suddenly remembered that they had been
up-stairs an unnaturally long time. She rushed up in a panic. They
were not there. She ran through the house. They were not to be found.
The dreadful truth overwhelmed her,--the twins were already in the
haymow, the hour had come, and she must go forth.

Breathlessly, she slipped out of the back door, and closed it softly
behind her. She could not distinguish the dark outlines of the barn in
the equal darkness of the autumn night. She gave a long sobbing gasp
as she groped her way forward. As she neared the barn, she was
startled to hear from the haymow over her head, deep groans as of a
soul in mortal agony. Something had happened to the twins!

"Girls! Girls!" she cried, forgetting for the moment her own sorry