It was Amy’s unlucky night. A little later, twelve colored candles, each standing upright in its own tiny candle-stick, were ranged the length of the long hall, at intervals of two or three feet, burning away like so many miniature light-houses. "These stand for the months," explained Peggy; "the first one is November, and then December, and so on around the year. If you jump over them without putting them out, you’ll have good luck all the year."
"And if you put them out?" inquired Amy anxiously.
"Every candle that goes out means bad luck for that particular month. Come, Priscilla. You try it first."
In spite of her height, Priscilla was as light on her feet as a fairy. Drawing her skirts around her, she went hopping down the hall so lightly that she left the whole twelve candles burning behind her. The applause this feat called forth was less enthusiastic than it would have been a little later, when the other girls had learned by experience the difficulties in the way of duplicating Priscilla’s performance.
While Blanche was lamenting over the fact that the three candles which stood for the summer months had been extinguished, which she interpreted to mean that she was to be disappointed in certain cherished vacation plans, Amy came forward to try her fate. Clutching her skirts frantically, she jumped over the first candle, coming down with a thump which fairly shook the house, while the cheery little flame which stood for November blinked in astonishment and promptly went out. Ten times did Amy repeat this feat. When she reached the end of the hall only one of the twelve candles remained lighted, and the girls were in peals of laughter.
"’’Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone,’" Peggy quoted tragically, but Amy was in no mood to see the humor of the situation.
"Did you ever hear of anything so dreadful?" she moaned. "What a year! Only one lucky month in it."
The girls laughed again at her horrified tone, and Peggy crossed the room and shook her playfully.
"You’re actually pale, you ridiculous, superstitious creature," she said severely. "As if it wasn’t all a joke. I guess we’ll have some refreshments now to revive you."
The refreshments were of the simplest sort; nuts and apples, with plates of home-made candy, but they added vastly to the evening’s entertainment. The chestnuts were placed in pairs on the coals of the grate fire, and when they bounded apart, as the most of them did, great excitement developed in the little company. From the English walnuts, tiny vessels were constructed and launched in couples on the troubled waters of the tub. If the little craft stuck together in their voyage across, the omen was counted a good one, while their parting company was hailed with lamentation.