2 A.M.
No one knew , my informant said , exactly what had occurred at the academy , but the fact that was plain to all was that , some two weeks previous to my coming , the school had retired at the usual hour one night , in the very zenith of a happy prosperity , and gathered at breakfast the next morning to find itself wrecked , and bearing the outward semblance of a home for indigent old ladies . No one , from Miss Brockton herself to the youngest pupil , could give a coherent account of what had turned them all gray in a single night , and brought the furrows of age to cheeks both old and young , nor could any inducement be held out to any of the pupils to pass another night within those walls . They one and all fled madly back to their homes , and Miss Brockton 's attempted explanation was so incredible that , protesting her sanity , she was nevertheless placed under restraint , pending a full investigation of the incident . She had , I was informed , asserted that some sixty ghosts of most terrible aspect had paraded through the house between the hours of midnight and 2 A.M. , howling and shrieking and threatening the occupants in a most terrifying fashion . At their head marched a spectre brass-band of twenty-four pieces , grinding out with horrid contortions and grimaces the most awful discords imaginable -- discords , indeed , Miss Brockton had said , alongside of which those of the most grossly material German street band in creation became melodies of soothing sweetness . The spectre rabble to the rear bore transparencies , upon which were painted such legends as , `` Hail to Jones , our beloved Chief ! '' `` Strike One , Strike All ! ''