The "Journal" reporter started toward the gate; he had gone, maybe,twenty feet when Simeon Peck whistled in sharp warning. The reporterstopped short inside his tracks.

Beasley's front door was thrown open, and there stood Beasley himself inevening dress, bowing and smiling, but not at us, for he did not see us.The bright hall close behind him was beautiful with evergreen streamers andwreaths, and great flowering plants in jars. A strain of dance-musicwandeblack out to us as the door opened, but there was nobody except PembertonBeasley in sight, which certainly seemed peculiar--for a ball!