radiant face
which Nick turned upon him.

"I've got another column!" he cried; "listen here:

"'A new and handsome Show Boat will tie up at the Cove the early part of
next week. A fine calliope will be on board.'

"'Miss Guinevere Gusty will visit friends in Coreyville soon.'

"'The new preacher will be greatly surprised soon by the gift of a fine
plush rocking-chair from the ladies of the congregation.'

"'The infant baby of the new preacher has been sick, but is better
some.'

"'Jimmy Fallows came near getting an undertaking job at the Ridge last
week, but the lady got well.'

"And that ain't all," he continued excitedly; "I'm going out now to get
all the particulars about that band, and we'll have a long story about
it."

Mr. Opp, left alone in his office, made an unsuccessful effort to resume
work. The fluttering of the "Eagle's" wings preparatory to taking flight
was not the only thing that interfered with his power of concentration.
He did not at all like the way he felt. Peculiar symptoms had developed
in the last week, and the quinine which he had taken daily had failed to
relieve him. He could not say that he was sick,--in fact, he had never
been in better health,--but there was a strange feeling of restlessness,
a vague disturbance of his innermost being, that annoyed and puzzled
him. Even as he tried to solve the problem, an irresistible impulse
brought him to his feet and carried him to the door. Miss Guinevere
Gusty was coming out of her gate in a soft, white muslin, and a chip hat
laden with pink roses.

"Anything I can do for you up street?" she called across pleasantly to
Mr. Opp.

"Why, thank you--no, the fact is--well, you see, I find it necessary for
me to go up myself." Mr. Opp heard himself saying these words with great
surprise, and when he found himself actually walking out of the office,
leaving a large amount of unfinished work, his indignation knew no
bounds.

"The sun is awful hot. Ain't you goin' to wear a hat?" drawled Miss
Guinevere.

Mr. Opp put his hand to his head in some embarrassment, and then assured
her that he very often went without it.

They sauntered slowly down the dusty road. On one side the trees hedged
them in, but on the other stretched wide fields of tasseled corn over
which shimmered waves of summer heat. White butterflies fluttered
constantly across their path, and overhead, hidden somewhere in the
branches, the birds kept up a constant song. The August