Mr. Opp Part 10

"It's so pretty it hurts," said the girl, clasping her hands about her knees. "I love to watch it all, but it makes the s.h.i.+vers go over me--makes me feel sort of lonesome. Don't it you?"

Mr. Opp shook his head emphatically. It was the one time in years that down in the depths of his soul he had not felt lonesome. For as Indian summer had come back to earth, so youth had come back to Mr. Opp. The flower of his being was waking to bloom, and the spring tides were at flood.

A belated robin overhead, unable longer to contain his rapture, burst into song; but Mr. Opp, equally full of his subject, was unable to utter a syllable. The sparkling eloquence and the fine phrases had evaporated, and only the bare truth was left.

Guinevere, having become aware of the very ardent looks that were being cast upon her, said she thought the boat must be about due.

"Oh, no," said Mr. Opp; "that is, I was about to say--why--er--say, Miss Guin-never, do you think you could ever come to keer about me?"

Guinevere, thus brought to bay, took refuge in subterfuge. "Why--Mr.

Opp--I'm not old enough for you."

"Yes, you are," he burst forth fervently. "You are everything for me: old enough, and beautiful enough, and smart enough, and sweet enough. I never beheld a human creature that could even begin to think about comparing with you."

Guinevere, in the agitation of the moment, nervously plucked all the leaves from the branch that had been acquired with such effort. It was with difficulty that she finally managed to lift her eyes.

"You've been mighty good to me," she faltered, "and--and made me lots happier; but I--I don't care in the way you mean."

"Is there anybody else?" demanded Mr. Opp, ready to hurl himself to destruction if she answered in the affirmative.

"Oh, no," she answered him; "there never has been anybody."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'Why, Mr. Opp, I'm not old enough'"]

"Then I'll take my chance," said Mr. Opp, expanding his narrow chest.

"Whatever I've got out of the world I've had to fight for. I don't mind saying to you that I was sorter started out with a handicap. You know my sister--she's a--well, a' invalid, you might say, and while her pa was living, my fortunes wasn't what you might call as favorable as they are at present. I never thought there would be any use in my considering getting married till I met you, then I didn't seem able somehow to consider nothing else. If you'll just let me, I'll wait. I'll learn you to care. I won't bother you, but just wait patient as long as you say."

And this from Mr. Opp, whose sands of life were already half-run! "All I ask for," he went on wistfully, "is a little sign now and then. You might give me a little look or something just to keep the time from seeming too long."

It was almost a question, and as he leaned toward her, with the sunlight in his eyes, something of the beauty of the day touched him, too, just as it touched the weed at his feet, making them both for one transcendent moment part of the glory of the world.

Guinevere Gusty, already in love with love, and reaching blindly out for something deeper and finer in her own life, was suddenly engulfed in a wave of sympathy. She involuntarily put out her hand and touched his fingers.

The sun went down behind the distant sh.o.r.e, and the light faded on the river. Mr. Opp was almost afraid to breathe; he sat with his eyes on the far horizon, and that small, slender hand in his, and for the moment the world was fixed in its...o...b..t, and Time itself stood still.

Suddenly out of the silence came the long, low whistle of the boat. They scrambled to their feet and hurried down the path, Mr. Opp having some trouble in keeping up with the nimbler pace of the girl.

"I'll be calculatin' every minute until the arrival of the boat to-morrow night," he was gasping as they came within sight of the wharf.

"I'll be envyin' every--"

"Where's my band-box?" demanded Guinevere. "Why, Mr. Opp, if you haven't gone and left it up in the woods!"

Five minutes later, just as the bell was tapping for the boat to start, a flying figure appeared on the wharf. He was hatless and breathless, his coat was ripped from collar to hem, and a large band-box flapped madly against his legs as he ran. He came down the home-stretch at a record-breaking pace, stepped on board as the gang-plank was lifted, deposited his band-box on the deck, then with a running jump cleared the rapidly widening s.p.a.ce between the boat and the sh.o.r.e, and dropped upon the wharf.

He continued waving his handkerchief even after the boat had rounded the curve, then, having edited a paper, promoted a large enterprise, effected a proposal, and performed two remarkable athletic stunts all in the course of a day, Mr. Opp turned his footsteps toward home.

IX

The next day dawned wet and chilly. A fine mist hung in the trees, and the leaves and gra.s.ses sagged under their burden of moisture. All the crimson and gold had changed to brown and gray, and the birds and crickets had evidently packed away their chirps and retired for the season.

By the light of a flickering candle, Mr. D. Webster Opp partook of a frugal breakfast. The luxurious habits of the Moore household had made breakfast a movable feast depending upon the time of Aunt Tish's arrival, and in establis.h.i.+ng the new regime Mr. Opp had found it necessary to prepare his own breakfast in order to make sure of getting to the office before noon.

As he sipped his warmed-over coffee, with his elbows on the red table-cloth, and his heels hooked on the rung of the chair, he recited to himself in an undertone from a very large and imposing book which was propped in front of him, the leaves held back on one side by a candlestick and on the other by a salt-cellar. It was a book which Mr.

Opp was buying on subscription, and it was called "An Encyclopedia of Wonder, Beauty, and Wisdom." It contained pellets of information on all subjects, and Mr. Opp made it a practice to take several before breakfast, and to repeat the dose at each meal as circ.u.mstances permitted. "An editor," he told Nick, "has got to keep himself instructed on all subjects. He has got to read wide and continuous."

As a rule he followed no special line in his pursuit of knowledge, but with true catholicity of taste, took the items as they came, turning from a strenuous round with "Abbeys and Abbots," to enter with fervor into the wilds of "Abyssinia." The straw which served as bookmark pointed to-day to "Ants," and ordinarily Mr. Opp would have attacked the subject with all the enthusiasm of an entomologist. But even the best regulated minds will at times play truant, and Mr. Opp's had taken a flying leap and skipped six hundred and thirty-two pages, landing recklessly in the middle of "Young Lochinvar." For the encyclopedia, in its laudable endeavor not only to cover all intellectual requirements, but also to add the crowning grace of culture, had appended a collection of poems under the t.i.tle "Favorites, Old and New."

Mr. Opp, thus a-wing on the winds of poesy, had sipped his tepid coffee and nibbled his burnt toast in fine abstraction until he came upon a selection which his soul recognized. He had found words to the music that was ringing in his heart. It was then that he propped the book open before him, and determined not to close it until he had made the lines his own.

Later, as he trudged along the road to town, he repeated the verses to himself, patiently referring again and again to the note-book in which he had copied the first words of each line.

At the office door he regretfully dismounted from Pegasus, and resolutely turned his attention to the business of the day. His desire was to complete the week's work by noon, spend the afternoon at home in necessary preparation for the coming guest, and have the following day, which was Sat.u.r.day, free to devote to the interest of the oil company.

In order to accomplish this, expedition was necessary, and Mr. Opp, being more bountifully endowed by nature with energy than with any other quality, fell to work with a will. His zeal, however, interfered with his progress, and he found himself in the embarra.s.sing condition of a machine which is geared too high.

He was, moreover, a bit bruised and stiff from the unusual performances of the previous day, and any sudden motion caused him to wince. But the pain brought recollection, and recollection was instant balm.

It was hardly to be expected that things would deviate from their usual custom of becoming involved at a critical time, so Mr. Opp was not surprised when Nick was late and had to be spoken to, a task which the editor always achieved with great difficulty. Then the printing-press had an acute attack of indigestion, and no sooner was that relieved than the appalling discovery was made that there were no more good "S's" in the type drawer.

"Use dollar-marks for the next issue," directed Mr. Opp, "and I'll wire immediate to the city."

"We're kinder short on 'I's' too," said Nick. "You take so many in your articles."

Mr. Opp looked injured. "I very seldom or never begin on an 'I,'" he said indignantly.

"You get 'em in somehow," said Nick. "Why, the editor over at Coreyville even said 'Our Wife.'"

"Yes," said Mr. Opp, "I will, too,--that is--er--"

The telephone-bell covered his retreat.

"h.e.l.lo!" he answered in a deep, incisive voice to counteract the effect of his recent embarra.s.sment, "Office of 'The Opp Eagle.' Mr. Toddlinger?

Yes, sir. You say you want your subscription stopped! Well, now, wait a minute--see here, I can explain that--" but the other party had evidently rung off.

Mr. Opp turned with exasperation upon Nick:

"Do you know what you went and did last week?" He rose and, going to the file, consulted the top paper. "There it is," he said, "just identical with what he a.s.serted."

Nick followed the accusing finger and read:

"Mr. and Mrs. Toddlinger moved this week into their new horse and lot."

Before explanations could be entered into, there was a knock at the door. When it was answered, a very small black boy was discovered standing on the step. He wore a red s.h.i.+rt and a pair of ragged trousers, between which strained relations existed, and on his head was the brim of a hat from which the crown had long since departed. Hanging on a twine string about his neck was a large onion.

He opened negotiations at once.