r had ever been known to cross the Opp
threshold, yet he permitted desire to overrule delicacy.

It was a blustery December night when he climbed the hill, and he had to
pause several times during the ascent to gain sufficient breath to
proceed. By the time he reached the house he was quite speechless, and
he dropped on the steps to rest a moment before knocking. As he sat
there trying to imagine the flying-machine or torpedo-boat upon which he
felt certain Mr. Opp was engaged, he became aware of voices from within,
and looking up, he saw the window above him was slightly raised.
Overcome by his desire to see his friend at work upon his great
invention, he cautiously tiptoed across the porch and peeped in.

The low-ceilinged old room was bright with firelight, and in the center
of it, with his knees drawn up, his toes turned in, and his tongue
thrust out, sat Mr. Opp, absorbed in an object which he held between his
knees. Miss Kippy knelt before him, eagerly watching proceedings.

Mr. Gallop craned his neck to see what it was that held their interest,
and at last discovered that they were fitting a dress on a large china
doll.

Miss Kippy's voice broke the silence. "You can sew nice," she was
saying; "you can sew prettier than Aunt Tish."

[Illustration: "'Can't nobody beat me making skirts'"]

"Can't nobody beat me making skirts," said Mr. Opp, and Mr. Gallop saw
him push his needle through a bit of cloth, with the handle of the
shovel; "but sleeves is a more particular proposition. Why, I'd rather
thread three needles than to fix in one sleeve! Why don't you make like
it's summer-time and let her go without any?"

Miss Kippy's lips trembled. "I want sleeves, D.--two of them, and a
lady's hat, with roses on it. We can let _her_ be grown up, can't we,
D.?"

Mr. Gallop beat a hasty and shame-faced retreat. Though his idol had
fallen from its pedestal, he determined to stand guard over the
fragments, and from that night on, he constituted himself Mr. Opp's
loyal defender.

And Mr. Gallop was not the only one who came forth boldly in expressions
of sympathy and respect for the ex-editor. It was especially easy for
those who had prospered by the oil boom to express unbounded admiration
for the conscientious stand he had taken in the late transaction. They
had done him a grave injustice, they acknowledged. The wells had been
reinvestigated and proved of small value. The fact that the truth was
discovered too late