Waterbury evening Democrat., 1907-01-21

all. He was very fond of walking through the timber"
 Not at night. l hope! Where are we now?"
 Quite near the lake, sir."
 Then 90 on"
 was out of patience with Bates. with the painless woodland, and, l must confess, with the spirit of John Marshall Glenarm, my grandfather.
 We came out presently upon gray. ely beach, and Bates stamped sud denly on planking.
 This is the Gsenarm dock, sir: and that's the boat house"
 He waved his lantern toward low structure that rose dark beside us. As we stood silent, peering out into the starlight, heard distinctly the dip of a paddle and the soft gliding motion of a canoe.
 'It's a boat, ST." whispered Bates. hiding the lantern under his coat.
 I brushed past him and crept to the end of the dock. The paddle dipped on silently and evenly in the still water but the sound grew fainter. A canoe is the most graceful, the most sensitive, the most inexplicable con trivance of man. With its paddle you may dip up stars along quiet shores or steal into the very harbor of dreams. knew that furtive splash instantly. and knew that trained hand yielded the paddle. My boyhood summers in the Maine woods were not, find, wholly wasted.
 The owner of the canoe had evident ly stolen close to the Glenarm dock, but had made of when alarmed by the noise of our approach through the wood.
 Have you boat near here. Bates?" 1 asked.
 "The boat house is locked and I haven't the key with me, sir" he re- piled, without excitement.
 "Of course you haven't it." l re- joined, full of anger at his tone of ire proachable respect, and at my own helpfulness. had not even seen the place by daylight. and the woodland behind me ara the lake at my feet were things of shadow and mystery. In my rage stamped my foot. Lead the way back" roared. I had turned toward the woodland when suddenly there stole across the water voice.-a woman's voice, deep, musical and deliberate.
 Really, I shouldn't be so angry if I were you!" it said. with lingering note on the word angry.
 "Who are you? What are you doing there?" I bawled.
 Just enjoying little tranquil thought" was the drawling, mocking | reply.
 Far out upon the water heard the dip and glide of the canoe. and saw faintly its outline for moment; then 1t was gone. The lake. the surround l ing wood, were an unknown world the canoe, a boat of dreams. Then again came the voice:
 Good night, merry gentlemen" Tt was lady, sir" remarked Bates. after we had waited silently for full minute.
 How clever you are!" sneered. T suppose ladies prowl about here at night, shooting ducks or into peoples houses"
 Tt would seem quite likely. sir" | cho,,1d hovo IjLod fr coot hin, intO the lake, but he was already moving away, the lantern swinging at his side. I followed him, back through the wood land to the house.
 | My spirits quickly responded to the cheering influence of the great library. I stirred the fire on the hearth into life and sat down before 1t, tired from my tramp. I was mystified and per. plexed by the incident that had al. ready marked my coming. It was pos. sible, to be sure, that the bullet which narrowly missed my head in the little dining room had been a wild shot that carried no evil intent. dismissed at once the idea that 1t might have been fired from the lake; 1t had crashed through the glass with too much force to have come so far; and. moreover. could hardly imagine even rife ball finding an unimpeded right of way through so dense a strip of wood. found 1t difficult to get rid ,of the idea that some one had taken pot shot at me.
 The woman's mocking voice from the lake added to my perplexity. Il was not, l reflected, such voice as one might expect to hear from a coun try girl; nor could I imagine any errand that would justify woman's presence abroad on an October night whose cool air inspired first conf dences with fire and lamp. There wal something haunting in that last cry across the water; it kept repeating 1t self over and over in my ears. It wal voice of quality, of breeding ana charm.
 Good night, merry gentlemen" In Indiana, I reflected, rustics. young or old, men or women. were probably not greatly given to salutations of jus this temper.
 Bates now appeared. Beg pardon, sir; but your room'i ready whenever you wish to retire" looked about in search of clock.
 There are no timepieces in thu house, Mir. Glenarm. Your grandfathe was quite opposed to them. He hat ] a theory, sir. that they were conducive as he said. to idleness. He considered