"What's all that jinglin' going on?" I asks the other evenin'. "Sounds like a squad of junkmen comin' up the pike." "Silly!" says Vee. "Frogs, of course." "Oh!" says I. Then I listens some more, until something else breaks loose. It's sort of a cross between the dyin' moan of a gyastacutus and the whine of a subway express roundin' a sharp curve. "For the love of Pete," I breaks out, "what do you call that?" Vee chuckles. "Didn't you see the calf up at Mr. Robert's?" she asks. "Well, that's the old cow calling to him." "If she feels as bad as that," says I, "I wish she'd wait until mornin' to express herself. That's the most doleful sound I ever heard. Come on; let's go in while you tinkle out something lively and cheerin' on the piano." I never thought I was one of the timid kind, either. Course, I'm no Carnegie hero, or anything like that; but I've always managed to get along in the city without developin' a case of nerves. Out here, though, it's different. Two or three evenin's now I've felt almost jumpy, just over nothing at all, it seems. Maybe that's why I didn't show up any better, here the other night, when Vee rings in this silent alarm on me. I was certainly poundin' my ear industrious when gradually I gets the idea that someone is shakin' me by the shoulders. It's Vee. "Torchy," she whispers husky. "Get up." "Eh?" says I, pryin' my eyes open reluctant. "Get up? Wha-wha' for?" "Oh, don't be stupid about it," says she. "I've been trying to rouse you for five minutes. Please get up and come to the window." "Nothing doing," says I snugglin' into the pillow again. "I--I'm busy." "But you must," says she. "Listen. I think someone is prowling around the house." "Let 'em ramble, then," says I. "What do we care?" "But suppose it's a--a burglar?" she whispers. I'll admit that gives me a goose-fleshy feelin' down the spine. It's such a disturbin' word to have sprung on you in the middle of the night. "Let's not suppose anything of the sort," says I. "But I'm sure I saw someone just now, when I got up to fix the shade," insists Vee. "Someone who stepped out into the moonlight right there, between the shadows of those two trees. Then he disappeared out that way. Come and look." Well, I was up by then, and half awake, so I tries to peer out into the back yard. I'm all for grantin' a general alibi, though. "Maybe you was only dreamin', Vee," says I. "Anyway, let's wait until mornin', and then----" "There!" she breaks in excited. "Just beyond the garden trellis. See?" Yep. There's no denyin' that someone is sneakin' around out there. First off I thought it might be a female in a white skirt and a raincoat; but when we gets the head showin' plain above some bushes we can make out a mustache. "It's a man!" gasps Vee, clutchin' me by the sleeve. "Uh-huh," says I. "So it is." "Well?" says Vee.