AS THE hour approached for the masqueraders to appear at the Judge's John Graham was drawn to the spot by an irresistible impulse. He stood in the shadows of the trees on the sidewalk and watched the little squadron of white and scarlet horsemen wheel into the gate past Isaac's cottage, and gallop swiftly up to the front door of the old mansion.
They had scarcely passed when Isaac suddenly stepped from the shrubbery through the open gateway and ran into him.
The Apostle gasped in terror:
"De Lawd, marse John, I thought you wuz one er dem ghostes—'scuse me, sah, I'se er gettin' away from here!"
John made no reply, merely watching him until he disappeared.
Again he turned toward the house. Every window was gleaming with light. The subdued strains of a string band came stealing through the trailing roses on the porch, and he fancied he could catch the odour of the flowers in their sweet
