befitting the dignity of the
editor of "The Opp Eagle." But Mr. Opp, though sorely perplexed, was not
depressed, for beneath the disturbed surface of his thoughts there ran
an undercurrent of pure joy. It caused him to make strange, unnatural
sounds in his throat which he meant for song; it made him stop every now
and then in his work to glance tenderly and reminiscently at the palm of
his right hand, once even going so far as to touch it softly with his
lips. For since the last sun had set there had been no waking moment but
had held for him the image of a golden world inhabited solely by a pair
of luminous eyes, one small hand, and, it must be added, a band-box.

Through the busy afternoon Mr. Opp referred constantly to his watch, and
in spite of the manifold duties to be performed, longed impatiently for
evening to arrive. At five o'clock he had moved the furniture from one
bedroom to another, demonstrated beyond a possibility of doubt that a
fire could not be made in the parlor grate without the chimney smoking,
mended two chairs, hung a pair of curtains, and made three errands to
town. So much accomplished, he turned his attention to the most
difficult task of all.

"Kippy," he said, going to the window where she was gleefully tracing
the course of the raindrops as they chased down the pane. "Stop a
minute, Kippy. Listen; I want to talk to you."

Miss Kippy turned obediently, but her lips continued the dumb
conversation she was having with the rain.

"How would you like," said Mr. Opp, approaching the subject cautiously,
"to play like you was a grown-up lady--just for to-night, you know?"

Miss Kippy looked at him suspiciously, and her lips stopped moving.
Heretofore she had resisted all efforts to change her manner of dress.

"There's a gentleman a-coming," continued Mr. Opp, persuasively; "he's
going to remain over till to-morrow, and Aunt Tish is cooking that
large goose for him, and I've been fixing up the spare room. We are all
endeavoring to give him a nice time. Don't you want to dress up for
him?"

"Will it make him glad?" asked Miss Kippy.

Mr. Opp expiated on the enjoyment it would give the unknown guest to see
Kippy in the blue merino dress which Aunt Tish had gotten out of Mrs.
Opp's old trunk up-stairs.

"And you'll let Aunt Tish arrange your hair up like a lady?" went on Mr.
Opp, pushing the point.

"Yes," said Miss Kippy, after a moment, "Oxety will. She will make him
glad."

"Good!" sa