The bumblebee saved the situation. Detecting some rare viand in a crack of the porch midway between the settee and the hammock, and evidently being a bibulous bee, it set up such a buzz of excitement that Mr. Opp looked at it, and the young lady looked at it, and their eyes met. "Excuse me," said Mr. Opp, rather breathlessly; "you was asleep, and I come to see Mrs. Gusty, and--er--the fact is--I'm Mr. Opp." At this announcement the young lady put her hand to her head, and by a dexterous movement rearranged the brown halo of her hair, and twisted the pink bow into its proper, aggressive position. "Mother'll--be back soon,"--she spoke without embarrassment, yet with the hesitation of one who is not in the habit of speaking for herself,--"I--I--didn't know I was going to sleep." "No," said Mr. Opp; then added politely, "neither did I." Silence again looming on the horizon, he plunged on: "I think I used to be in the habit of seeing you when you was--er--younger, didn't I?" "Up at the store." She smiled faintly. "You bought me a bag of pop-corn once with a prize in it. It was a breastpin; I've got it yet." Mr. Opp scowled slightly as he tried to extract an imaginary splinter from his thumb. "Do you--er--attend school?" he asked, taking refuge in a paternal attitude. "I'm finished," she said listlessly. "I've been going to the Young Ladies' Seminary at Coreyville." "Didn't you taken to it?" asked Mr. Opp, wishing fervently that Mrs. Gusty would return. "Oh, yes," said his companion, earnestly. "I love it; I was a special. I took music and botany and painting. I was in four concerts last year and played in the double duets at the commencements." During the pause that followed, Mr. Opp considered various names for his newspaper. "Mother isn't going to let me go back," the soft, drawling voice continued; "she says when a girl is nineteen she ought to settle down. She wants me to get married." Mr. Opp laid "The Cove Chronicle" and "The Weekly Bugle" aside for further consideration, and inquired politely if there was any special person whom Mrs. Gusty desired for a son-in-law. "Oh, no," said the girl, indifferently; "she hasn't thought of anybody. But I don't want to get married--yet. I want to go back to the seminary and be a music teacher. I hate it here, every bit of it. It's so stupid--and lonesome, and--" A break in her voice caused Mr. Opp to postpone a decision of the day on which his paper was to be published, and to give her his undivided attention. Distress, even in beauty, was not to be withstood, and the fact that she was unusually pretty had been annoying Mr. Opp ever since she had spoken to him. As she turned her head away and wiped her eyes, he rose impulsively and moved toward her: "Say, look a-here now, you ain't crying, are you?" he asked. She shook her head in indignant denial. "Well--er--you don't seem exactly happy, as you might say," suggested Mr. Opp, boldly.