so surely tall) "with a bumpy forehead and spectacles," he said to
himself, "or else a provincial young lady with big eyes to pose at you."
Then he felt the ridiculousness of looking after his common sense on a
moonlight night in June; also, he knew that he lied.

The song had ceased, but the musician lingered, and the keys were touched
to plaintive harmonies new to him. He had come to Plattville before
"Cavalleria Rusticana" was sung at Rome, and now, entranced, he heard the
"Intermezzo" for the first time. Listening to this, he feared to move lest
he should wake from a summer-night's dream.

A ragged little shadow flitted down the path behind him, and from a
solitary apple-tree, standing like a lonely ghost in the middle of the
field, came the _woo_ of a screech owl--twice. It was answered--twice--
from a clump of elder-bushes that grew in a fence-corner fifty yards west
of the pasture bars. Then the barrel of a squirrel rifle issued, lifted
out of the white elder-blossoms, and lay along the fence. The music in the
house across the way ceased, and Harkless saw two white dresses come out
through the long parlor windows to the veranda.

"It will be cooler out here," came the voice of the singer clearly through
the quiet. "What a night!"

John vaulted the bars and started to cross the road. They saw him from the
veranda, and Miss Briscoe called to him in welcome. As his tall figure
stood out plainly in the bright light against the white dust, a streak of
fire leaped from the elder-blossoms and there rang out the sharp report of
a rifle. There were two screams from the veranda. One white figure ran
into the house. The other, a little one with a gauzy wrap streaming
behind, came flying out into the moonlight--straight to Harkless. There