of the nominee's career, and the celebration of his home-coming. The sales
were rapid; for no one could resist the opportunity to read in print
descriptions of what his eyes had beheld and his ears had heard that day.

Ross Schofield was the only person in the editorial room, and there was
nothing in his appearance which should cause a man to start and fall back
from the doorway; but that was what Harkless did.

"What's the matter, Mr. Harkless?" cried Ross, hurrying forward, fearing
that the other had been suddenly reseized by illness.

"What are those?" asked Harkless, with a gesture of his hand which seemed
to include the entire room.

"Those!" repeated Ross, staring blankly.

"Those rosettes--these streamers--that stovepipe--all this blue ribbon."

Ross turned pale. "Ribbon?" he said, inquiringly. "Ribbon?" He seemed
unable to perceive the decorations referred to.

"Yes," answered John; "these rosettes on the chairs, that band, and----"

"Oh!" Ross exclaimed. "That?" He fingered the band on the stovepipe as if
he saw it for the first time. "Yes; I see."

"But what are they for?" asked Harkless, touching one of the streamers
curiously.

"Why--it's--it's likely meant for decorations."