“’Tis the Veiled Prophetess of Destiny,” declaimed Elfreda with dramatic intensity.  “Excuse me, girls.  I must conduct her to her grotto.  If she is not received with respectful ceremony, she is likely to hobble off to other fields and leave us in the lurch.  After all the pains I’ve taken to insure her presence, I should hate to disappoint you at the last minute.”

“Where on earth did J. Elfreda manage to find her?” questioned Julia Emerson.  Distinct awe pervaded her tones.

Their gaze fixed upon the distinguished seeress, whom Elfreda was solicitously piloting across the lawn to the grotto, no one answered Julia’s question.  In fact, only one of their number was prepared to reply to the query.  Having taken the vow of silence, Miriam Nesbit’s tranquilly-composed features offered no sign of the significant knowledge that lay behind them.

“Who will be the first to consult Amarna, the Seeress of the Seven Veils?” intoned the now-returning Elfreda in solemn, sing-song accents.  Very practically she added:  “I just now took the trouble to find out her name.”

“Can she tell the past?” quizzed Sara Emerson skeptically.

“She can.  To Amarna the past is a freshly written page.  From her occult vision nothing lies hidden.  Let me lead you to her.”  Elfreda crooked an inviting arm.

With a joyful giggle Sara rose.  Accepting the proffered guidance to the seat of the all-wise Amarna, she proceeded to hustle her amiable conductor over the grass toward the grotto at a most indecorous rate of speed, born of her ardent determination to test the mettle of the Seeress of the Seven Veils.

“Go ahead.”  Releasing Sara’s arm, Elfreda gave her a gentle shove toward the grotto and retired into a discreet patch of darkness to chuckle unobserved.

“Stand where you are.  I am Amarna,” piped a thin, reedy voice.  Sara obediently came to a halt in the opening to the grotto and faced a black-draped dais on which the illustrious prophetess reposed.  In the chastened yellow glow, cast by an enormous lantern hung directly over where she now paused, Sara was plainly visible to the uncanny figure on its perch.  On the contrary, as Amarna sat well in the shadow, her face still hidden behind her veil, she greatly resembled a huge black blot.  “You are not the only child in your father’s house,” continued the high voice.  “You have a sister who is your very counterpart.  Both saw the light on the same day, March the seventh.”

The seeress went on with a detailed narration of various past events in Sara’s life which caused her eyes to grow round with wonder.  The subsequent prediction of a most remarkable future, in which fate had apparently decreed that she should never marry but end her days as a successful conductor of an art needle-work emporium, sent her scurrying back to her friends divided between wonder of the mysterious being’s power to depict the past and disgust at the prospect of such a hum-drum future.

“Do let me interview her next,” pleaded Julia Emerson.  “But first I shall run up to my room and get my scarf.  If Amarna can swathe her distinguished features, so can I. Then she won’t know I’m a twin.  I must say she seems better at reading the past than predicting the future.  I don’t see how she could tell a single thing about you, Sara, when you just stood still there.  Fortune-tellers generally ask to look at one’s palm.”  Having delivered herself of this wise opinion, Julia flitted off to the house to secure the disguising scarf.

“I defy you to pick me out as a twin,” was her merry challenge, when returning to the group on the lawn she wound her long chiffon scarf twice about her head.  “Thank goodness, Sarah and I never dress alike.  You’ll have to lead me, J. Elfreda Briggs.  I can see, of course; but rather dimly.”

Elfreda again performed the kindly office of conductor, leaving Julia in precisely the same spot where Sara had lately stood.

“The eyes of Amarna cannot be deceived,” calmly reproved the black shape on the dais.  “They see behind the flimsy veil and deep into your thoughts.  Your face is as the face of her who so lately sought me.  The bond of sisterhood stretches between you.  That which is invisible to the naked eye is visible to me.  The road of the past winds clear and white before me.  Now I perceive that you ­”

The result of Amarna’s mystic meanderings down the road of the past were never revealed.  Tardily gifted with a most remarkable power of second sight, Julia suddenly swooped down upon the weird Seeress of the Seven Veils, emitting a gleeful shout.  “You villain!” she chuckled, as she caught the unfortunate sooth-sayer by the shoulders and administered a playful shaking.  Still firmly clutching her victim, she raised her voice in a clear call of, “Girls, come here this instant!”

Having heard Julia’s first wild shout, an investigating committee of curious girls was already bearing down upon the grotto.

“Here’s your Seeress!” laughed Julia.  With a triumphant sweep of the arm, she pulled aside the swathing black veil, to disclose the mirthful features of Emma Dean, minus her glasses.

“Emma Dean!” went up the lusty cry from at least six surprised Sempers.  Elfreda and Miriam, however, had guessed the import of Julia’s shrill summons before running to the scene with the others.

“You ridiculous fraud!” exclaimed Sara Emerson, hugging Emma with bearish enthusiasm.  “No wonder you knew so much about my past and so little of my future.  And I never even suspected you.”

“I’m next,” declared Grace as she wrapped fond arms about the recently age-bent figure which had miraculously recovered youth within a space of three minutes.  Emma was lovingly embraced by each girl in turn amid much voluble greeting and accompanying laughter.

“The way of the seeress is hard,” she commented humorously as she finished the removal of her veil, which the astute Julia had begun.  “No more gloomy, ghostly grottos for Emily Elizabeth.  Let the past and the future take care care of itself.  Hurrah for the glorious present!  I hope you giddy, gorgeous creatures can appreciate my noble, self-sacrificing spirit.  While you have been engaged in wearing your costliest raiment and eating up a delectable dinner, I’ve been obliged to lurk like a criminal in J. Elfreda’s room, attired in somber, sable weeds.”

“But when did you arrive, Emma?” asked Arline.  “Of course we know now that you and Elfreda perpetrated this dark but delightful plot.  How you managed to slip into the cottage without any of us seeing you is a greater mystery than the Seeress of the Seven Veils could ever hope to be.”

“Oh, it was all planned beforehand,” explained Emma cheerfully.  “While you loyal Sempers were out on the lawn this afternoon, stringing lanterns, I was shut up in a third-story room peering owlishly down at you through the shutters.  I arrived here this morning, about an hour before the rest of you.  Kind and hospitable hostess that she seems to be, I grieve to relate that I had hardly paid my respects to Mrs. Briggs when J. Elfreda shut me up in that same third-story chamber with my breakfast and left me to pine while she went gayly gallivanting down to the train to meet you.  When I have a little time I shall write a book and entitle it, ’Locked Up for the Day; or All in the Name of Friendship.’”

Emma beamed languishingly upon her listeners in order better to impress them with her unfaltering loyalty to their interests.  “In order to clear my jailer of any unjust aspersions which unkind persons may cast upon her, I might also add that she brought me some luncheon.  As for my dinner, I had finished it before you began yours.  So you see, she at least kept me in a well-nourished condition.”

“Now we can be perfectly happy!” exulted Grace.  “You are the last touch needed to complete the reunion.”

“I am always a blessing,” returned Emma modestly.  “To-night I happened to be one in disguise.  But I yearn to cast aside my sable robes of prophesy and emerge from my room in gala garments.  Lead me to my trunk, J. Elfreda.  The night is yet young and I’m anxious to make the most of it.”

“I never once thought of Emma Dean in connection with Elfreda’s fortune-teller,” confessed Kathleen West ruefully.  “I am afraid I’m losing my nose for news.”

“Neither did I,” admitted Anne.  “But you guessed it, didn’t you, Miriam?” Recalling the latter’s inspiration of that afternoon, Anne turned to her sister-in-law.

“Yes.  It flashed across me all of a sudden.  You know Elfreda said Emma might descend upon us when we least expected her.  That’s what set me to thinking.”

“I ought to have guessed,” mourned Sara Emerson.  “All the glory of the discovery goes to my twin sister.  How did you find her out, Julia?”

“It was what she said.  You know how funny Emma is.  When we were at Overton she was forever saying ‘Now I perceive.’  The minute I heard it to-night I began to perceive, too.”

When presently Emma joined her friends on the lawn, all traces of the fabled Seeress of the Seven Veils had vanished.  In a simple white evening frock, eye-glasses firmly astride her nose, she was her usual jolly self.  Although Grace Harlowe was undoubtedly the best-loved member of Semper Fidelis, Emma held an individual place in their hearts.  Wherever she walked, fun and laughter followed at her heels.  Grace was their inspiration to noble deeds; Emma their spirit of good cheer.  One and all they gathered about her and marshalled her to the veranda where a hilarious hour ensued, followed by a concerted invasion on the living-room, where they proceeded to entertain Mr. and Mrs. Briggs, who had tactfully declined to intrude upon the dinner party, with an evening of the old, familiar stunts with which they had so often lightened their student days at Overton College.

It was well after midnight when, by common consent, the will to retire for the night claimed them.  Knowing the deep regard that existed between Grace and Emma, Elfreda had arranged matters so that they might room together.  Although Anne was Grace’s oldest friend, she had cheerfully resigned her claim on Grace to Emma for the week.

“Well, Gracious, how is everything?” were Emma’s first words when at last they had shut themselves in their room for the night.  “I can’t begin to tell you how dreadfully I’ve missed you.  It gives me the blues every time I think of Overton next year without you.  But I know you are happy, and that’s at least one consolation.”

“It’s a mutual miss, Emma,” assured Grace.  “I have thought of you a great deal and wished you were with me at home.  Aside from not being able to have my dearest friends with me all the time, my happiness has been so complete this summer that I feel as though I ought to walk very softly, for fear of losing some part of it.”

“I understand.  It’s always so.  One wonders if it’s even wise to mention it for fear of breaking the spell,” mused Emma.  “I suppose the best way to do is to plod steadily along and not think much about anything but the day’s events.  By the way, are you very sleepy?”

Grace shook her head.  “Not a bit.  On the contrary, I’m wide awake.”

“Then let’s doff our festival garb, clothe our magnificent selves in kimonos and have a talking-bee,” proposed Emma joyfully.  “I’ll give you a faithful account of affairs in darkest Deanery, if you will agree to furnish me with an equally detailed account of Harloweville doings.  Is it a go?”

“It is,” acceded Grace with equal heartiness.

A little later, seated Turk fashion on Grace’s bed, the two tried comrades indulged in one of the protracted talks that had invariably ended their day’s work when together at Harlowe House.  It was an extremely confidential session, yet there was one bit of information which Grace could not find it in her heart to divulge.  Though it had been over a week since she had said good-bye to Tom Gray, aside from a brief letter written to her on the train just before his arrival at a little town some miles from the lumber camp, she had received no further communication from him.  Within herself she argued that she had really no cause for alarm.  No doubt Tom had been too busy to write.  Perhaps he had written her, but, due to the isolation of the camp, had encountered difficulty in mailing a letter to her.  She would have liked to put the situation before Emma, yet loyalty to love forbade her to speak of it even to this trusted friend.