It was a warm night, and he was alone in his sanctum. The rest of the
building was dark and deserted, and his solitary light, flashing out
through the open window, fell upon the nearer pines and was lost in the
dark, indefinable slope below. He had reached the sanctum by the
rear, and a door which he also left open to enjoy the freshness of
the aromatic air. Nor did it in the least mar his privacy. Rather the
solitude of the great woods without seemed to enter through that
door and encompassed him with its protecting loneliness. There was
occasionally a faint "peep" in the scant eaves, or a "pat-pat," ending
in a frightened scurry across the roof, or the slow flap of a heavy
wing in the darkness below. These gentle disturbances did not, however,
interrupt his work on "The True Functions of the County Newspaper," the
editorial on which he was engaged.
Presently a more distinct rustling against the straggling blackberry
bushes beside the door attracted his attention. It was followed by a
light tapping against the side of the house.
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