“But is Emma really coming, Elfreda?” questioned Sara Emerson anxiously.  “She wrote us that she would surely be here.”

Seven eager faces reflected the anxiety in Sara’s tones as she made this inquiry.  The first day of the Semper Fidelis week of reunion was well on its way toward sunset.  Of the original members, six had descended upon the Briggs’ spacious cottage to keep Elfreda company.  With them had come Kathleen West and Patience Eliot, the guests of honor.  Five members were still among the missing.  Marian Cummings, Gertrude Wells, Elsie Wilton and Ruth Denton had been unable to grace the occasion with their presence.  Ruth’s inability to attend lay in the fact that she was with her father in Nevada.  This had been a great cross to her chum, Arline Thayer.  The others had also mourned the distance that separated her from them.  But even the absence of these four paled almost into insignificance beside the disappointing knowledge that the fifth missing member, jovial Emma Dean, had not yet appeared.

“She will be here,” announced Elfreda positively.  “I know she will.  Don’t worry about it.  She will no doubt come to the surface when you least expect it.  She wouldn’t miss the reunion for a good deal.”

“But she’ll miss having dinner on the lawn this evening and seeing that wonderful gypsy fortune teller you have hunted up for the occasion,” was Julia Emerson’s regretful cry.  “Where did you find her, Elfreda?  Can she really tell fortunes?”

“She can,” Elfreda asserted with solemn positiveness.  “Wait and see.  Where I found her is a secret for to-night.  Perhaps if you are good, I’ll tell you all about her to-morrow.”

“But to-morrow never comes,” reminded Patience Eliot.  “You’d better tell us now.”

“Can’t do it.”  Elfreda beamed mysteriously on the Emerson twins.  “Curb your curiosity, twins.  Wait patiently and the future shall unfold itself to you as an open book.  I wouldn’t make a bad fortune teller myself,” she added humorously.  “That’s the way they usually talk.”

“I am so disappointed at not seeing Emma here, too,” sighed Grace Harlowe.  “It seems ages since we said good-bye to each other at Overton.  You don’t suppose anything has happened to her, do you, Elfreda?”

“Of course not.  Take my word for it, she’ll be here before we are a day older.  There, that finishes the decorations.”  Elfreda triumphantly fastened into place the last of a quantity of Chinese lanterns that she and her friends had been stringing about the grounds, viewing the work with a sigh of satisfaction.  “These won’t give much light, but they’ll look pretty.  The electric light will have to do the real illuminating act.  The table looks sweet, doesn’t it?”

Several voices sent up laudatory affirmations.  Though the Sempers had arrived only that morning they had entered heart and soul soul into Elfreda’s plan for a dinner on the lawn that evening, with the added treat of communing with a real fortune-teller afterward.  In order to give the mysterious sooth-sayer a proper setting, a veritable grotto had been arranged for her inside a small summer house at one end of the lawn, on which the light would shine only faintly, thereby according her the eerie environment so necessary to one whose business it is to foretell the future.

Luncheon over, the Sempers had wandered in and out of one another’s rooms, exchanging confidences and reminiscences, while a wholesale unpacking of their effects went on.  Later Elfreda had marshalled them to the lawn, where their tongues continued to wag busily as they strung the many-colored lanterns on every available bush, or between such trees as could be easily put into use.

“We’d better be thinking about getting dressed for the evening,” reminded Miriam Nesbit, consulting her wrist watch.  “It is after six o’clock.”

“I hope it gets dark early,” commented Elfreda, with a reflective squint at the sky.  “It will be more fun to have dinner then.  Still I don’t care to let the august Sempers starve while we are waiting for night to come.”

“Oh, have dinner late,” chorused several voices.  “It will be ever so much more fun.”

“I think so, too,” nodded Grace.  “We’ll be good and hungry then and enjoy it even better for the waiting.”

“You hear the counsel of honorable Semper Harlowe,” stated Elfreda automatically.  “Those in favor please respond in the usual manner by saying ‘aye.’  Contrary ‘no.’  I am delighted to find you of one mind,” she added, with a beaming smile, as no dissenting voice arose.  “You shall be amply rewarded for such noble self-sacrifice.”

“Elfreda has something special on her mind,” remarked Miriam Nesbit to Anne, as they strolled toward the house to don evening gowns.  “She’s planning some sort of ridiculous surprise.  I can see it in her eye.  I wonder ­” Miriam stopped short and laughed.

“What?” asked Anne quickly.  “I hadn’t noticed anything specially mysterious in her manner.  She always did love to be mystifying.”

“I won’t say what I think is going to happen.  If it happens, though, I’ll tell you if I guessed right.”  Miriam continued to smile to herself.  Encountering Elfreda on the veranda, her black eyes flashed the stout girl a mischievous message which the latter immediately caught.

“I can see that you know a few things,” challenged Elfreda, drawing her aside.  “On your honor as my benefactor and roommate, keep them to yourself,” she charged, just above a whisper.

“I am a safe receptacle for dark secrets,” Miriam laughingly assured her in equally guarded fashion.

“I’m afraid I made a serious mistake in rooming with you so long.  You know altogether too much about me,” retorted Elfreda waggishly.  “I might have known you’d guess.  Never mind.  Some others won’t.”

Owing to the fact that the sun had obligingly finished his daily pilgrimage behind a flock of gray clouds that banked themselves in the west, a fairly early twilight descended.  A timid new moon, that was scheduled in the almanac to rise early, also covered itself with glory by not appearing at all, thereby signally helping along Elfreda’s cause.  When at eight o’clock the nine representatives of Semper Fidelis seated themselves at the tastefully decorated festal board, which occupied a position of central importance on the grassy lawn, they had no reason to complain of too much natural light.  Through the dense summer darkness that had now closed in about them, softly-glowing lanterns winked their many-colored eyes.  The main illumination, however, was due to two good-sized electric lights, each suspended from its own particular post at opposite sides of the grounds.  These Elfreda had thoughtfully swathed in thin flowered silk, which modifying their glare, gave them the same Oriental effect as that of the lanterns.

The nine young women made a pretty picture as they gathered about the table, the delicate hues of their evening frocks lending additional beauty to the scene.  From out each young face shone the joy of reunion.  Whatever the future might ordain for them in the way of trials, for one week at least they had laid strong hold on happiness.

Having nobly postponed dinner for purely artistic reasons, they were now decidedly hungry.  They, therefore, devoted themselves whole-heartedly to the substantial meal, comprising several delectable courses which were deftly served to them by two maids who had long been fixtures in the Briggs’ household, and whose smiling faces indicated their pleasure in ministering to Elfreda’s guests.  It was a signally merry repast, eaten to an accompaniment of gay badinage and rippling laughter.  Their college days now but a memory, it partook of the nature of a rollicking spread, rather than of that of a formal dinner party, and they reveled in thus being able to call forth once more a fleeting repetition of their former jollifications.

“You are a truly hospitable lawyeress, J. Elfreda,” lauded Kathleen West, as, dessert removed, they lingered at the table over their coffee, served in quaint Japanese cups that were the pride of J. Elfreda’s heart.  “I can see that you haven’t lost the will to garner things Japanese.  These cups are exquisite.”

“I am inordinately proud of them,” returned Elfreda, looking gratified.  “Laura Atkins’ father presented me with a real Japanese tea-set that he bought especially for me the last time he was in Japan.  They are old enough to have a history, too.  I couldn’t resist parading them to-night in honor of the Sempers.”

“Tell us about them, Elfreda,” begged Patience Eliot.  “I love to hear ­”

Patience never finished stating what she loved to hear.  A sharp little exclamation of “Look!” from Arline Thayer set all eyes gazing in the direction of her indexing finger.  Out of the darkness and into the swaying gleam of the lanterns a black-robed figure, bent double with the weight of years, hobbled its weird way toward the diners.  From a voluminous sable sleeve, a long thin hand projected itself, the wiry fingers clutching a tall staff.  The shifting glow of the lanterns played fantastically upon the apparition’s veiled head as, step by step, it drew slowly nearer.  An audible sigh of amazement, mingled with dread of the unknown, swept the little company.  Added to the unexpected materialization of the seeress was the surprise of her costume.  Fancy had pictured her to them as the usual gypsy, garbed in a rainbow of lively colors.  This sinister vision, the cast of whose features a long black veil entirely concealed, seemed to be a creation of the very darkness itself.  If pure uncanniness indicated occult power, then this veiled prophetess of destiny must surely be an adept in her art.