scape scandal. Very wealthy, handsome, and of noble birth, to all
appearances he was a gentleman, having a very gracious way about him;
but in reality he was wayward, headstrong, and dissipated. He
entertained lavishly, and his parties were the talk of the
countryside--especially the dress-ball which he gave every New Year's
Eve, starting at midnight and continuing throughout the next day and
night. It was after one of these New Year's parties, which was
particularly riotous, that he disappeared as mysteriously as he had
come. Friends who called at the house several days after the event found
that the servants and the furniture had vanished, no one knew whither,
and the house completely empty. Naturally, this gave rise to much
speculation on the part of the townsfolk, who invented many stories;
some said that he had repented of his evil ways and fled into
retirement; others that the devil had carried him off for a companion in
wickedness.

"Meanwhile, the house remained deserted, and decay set in. It was not
until the following New Year's Eve that it was seen occupied again;
then, two men who were returning late from a revel took a short-cut
through the garden in front of the house. The moon, flooding the house
with a pale light, showed shadows passing and repassing before the
windows of the reception hall. The watchers clutched at each other in
sudden fear.

"'This is the anniversary!' said one, in a hoarse whisper; and they
went home to talk it over.

"They agreed to say nothing about it; but when the next night still
another saw the same occurrence, they made the story known. That was the
beginning of the ghost legend. And while the place continued deserted
and silent at all other times, year after year on the anniversary of the
great ball, some late reveler was sure to report tales of strange doings
there. It formed a fine topic of discussion on a winter evening at the
inn, when the wind outside howled about the four corners.

"Now there were those who believed in these old wives' tales, and those
who did not; and numbered among the scoffers was one Simon
Some-body-or-other, whom the village folk called Simple Simon, partly
because of his foolish appearance, and partly because of his great love
for pies. Simon was the village fiddler--in fact, he had never been
known to do anything else--and was in great demand at all the feasts and
dances about the countryside. His awkward, angular form was a familiar
sight at