a growing source of diversion. "The Opp
Eagle," at first an object of ridicule, gradually became a point of
interest in his limited range of vision. Under his suggestions it was
enlarged and improved, and induced to publish news not strictly local.

Mr. Opp, meanwhile, was buzzing as persistently and ineffectually as a
fly on a window-pane. The night before Guinevere's return, he found
that, in order to accomplish all that he was committed to, it would be
necessary to spend the night at the office.

The concert for which the Unique Orchestra had been making night hideous
for two weeks had just come to a successful close, and the editor found
himself at a late hour tramping out the lonely road that led to the
office with the prospect of a couple of hours' work to do before he
could seek a well-earned rest upon the office bench.

He was flushed with his double triumph as director and cornet soloist,
and still thrilled by the mighty notes he had breathed into his beloved
instrument.

The violin sobs, the flute complains, the drum insists, but the cornet
brags, and Mr. Opp found it the instrument through which he could best
express himself.

It was midnight, and the moon, one moment shining brightly and the next
lost behind a flying cloud, sent all sorts of queer shadows scurrying
among the trees. Mr. Opp thought once that he saw the figure of a man
appear and disappear in the road before him, but he was so engrossed in
joyful anticipation of the morrow that he gave the incident no
attention. As he was passing the Gusty house, he was rudely plunged from
sentiment into suspicion by the sight of a figure stealthily moving
along the wall beneath the front windows.

Mr. Opp crouched behind the fence to watch him, but the moon took that
inopportune moment to sink into a bank of clouds, and the yard was left
in darkness. No sound broke the stillness save the far-off bark of a dog
or an occasional croak from a bullfrog. Mr. Opp waited and listened in a
state of intense suspense. Presently he heard the unmistakable sound of
a window being cautiously raised, and then just as cautiously lowered.
Summoning all his courage, he skirted the yard and hid in the bushes
near the house. Nothing was to be seen or heard. He watched for a light
at any of the windows, but none came.

The rash desire to capture the burglar single-handed, and thus
distinguish himself in the eyes of Guinevere's mother, caused Mr. Opp to
stiffen his knees a