It was a May morning in Glenville. Pretty, picturesque Glenville, low lying by the lake shore, with the waters of the lake surging to meet it, or coyly receding from it, on the one side, and the green-clad hills rising gradually and gently on the other, ending in a belt of trees at the very horizon's edge. There is little movement in the quiet streets of the town at half-past eight o'clock in the morning, save for the youngsters who, walking, running,...