The Secret of the Sundial

On a certain evening in early September—Friday the thirteenth—to be exact, a stranger in Claymore, Michigan, might have been startled to behold two figures, grotesque in long white sheets which draped them from head to foot, scurrying along an alley leading to Summit Street. It was an appropriate night for ghosts to be abroad. The moon was in the dark and the wind whistled weirdly through the trees.

The two figures moved stealthily along the boxwood hedge which bordered the rear of the George Brady property. Presently, coming to an opening barely large enough to squeeze through, they paused, glancing hastily in all directions.

“The coast is clear!” one murmured in a low tone.

“Surely you don’t expect me to crawl through that tiny hole!” came the indignant protest. “I’m not the bean-pole you are, Jane Allen. What’s the sense of all this secrecy anyhow? Why can’t we go in the main entrance?”

“I suppose you want everyone to see you!” the other retorted. “What’s the use of having a secret society if it isn’t secret?”

The second “ghost” silently acknowledged the weight of this argument and permitted herself to be pushed toward the opening in the hedge. Half way through, her sheet caught. In her efforts to free herself, it tore.

“Mother’s best sheet!” she groaned. “Won’t I catch it when I get home!”

“Hurry up!” the other urged with callous indifference to the fate which might await her friend. “We mustn’t be late for the initiation.”

They moved swiftly across the lawn, noting that the large white house was entirely dark. They paused at a side door and knocked three times.

Almost instantly the door opened and a third ghost confronted them.

“Everyone is here now except Cara Wayne,” she informed, “and of course we don’t want her until we’re all ready for the initiation. Aunt Maude and Uncle George went to a bridge party tonight so we have the house to ourselves.”

She led them through darkened halls to an attic “clubroom” where an oil lamp dimly burned.

“We may as well take off these hot sheets until Cara comes,” she invited. “We can slip them on again when we hear her at the door.”

By way of example, she tossed off her own disguise and stood revealed as Madge Sterling, president of the Skull and Crossbones, a most exclusive secret society. She was an attractive girl, vivacious and distinctly a leader. Her laughter was infectious; without half trying she had a way of drawing friends to her. Older people said she had “tact” but girls her own age liked her because she was known as a good sport. Madge’s mother was dead, and since the disappearance of her father, she had made her home with her aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Brady.

The two newcomers were Jane Allen and Edna Raynard. Jane was homely and very outspoken; she made enemies easily yet was a loyal friend. She did not mind her straight black hair or somewhat muddy complexion. Her slender figure was often ridiculed, but she took it all in good fun. Edna was quite the opposite. She was pretty as a picture, plump, and had an inclination toward taking life exactly as she found it.

The other girl, Enid Burnett, was Madge’s special chum. Largely through Madge’s influence, she had been induced to come from another state to attend the Everetts School for Girls at Claymore. Her mother also was dead, and her father, a well-to-do collector and sportsman, permitted her an unusual amount of freedom. Notwithstanding, she was a quiet, unspoiled girl with a genuine liking for school and studies.