upted the flow of his eloquence, and as he
glanced around the room, he saw there was some commotion at the door. A
turbaned head caught his eye, then Aunt Tish's beckoning hand.

Hastily excusing himself, he made his way through the crowd, and bent to
hear her message.

"Hit's Miss Kippy," she whispered. "I hate to 'sturb you, but she done
crack her doll's head, an' she's takin' on so, I can't do nuffin 't all
wif her."

"Couldn't you contrive to get her quiet no way at all?" asked Mr. Opp,
anxiously.

"Naw, sir. She mek like dat doll her shore 'nough baby, and she 'low she
gwine die, too, furst chanct she gits. I got Val's mother to stay wif
her till I git back."

"All right," said Mr. Opp, hastily. "You go right on and tell her I'm
coming."

When he reentered the dining-room, he held his hat in his hand.

"I find a urgent matter of business calls me back home; for only a few
moments, I trust," he said apologetically, with bows and smiles. "If the
banquet will kindly proceed, I will endeavor to return in ample time for
the final speeches."

With the air of a monarch taking temporary leave of his subjects, he
turned his back upon the gay, protesting crowd, upon the feast prepared
in his honor, upon the speech-making, so dear to his heart. Tramping
through the snow of the deserted street, through the lonely graveyard,
and along the river road, he went to bind up the head of a china doll,
and to wipe away the tears of a little half-crazed sister.

He wears the same checked suit as when we saw him first, worn and
frayed, to be sure, but carefully pressed for the occasion, the same
brave scarf and pin, and watch fob, though the watch is missing.

Passing out of sight with the sleet in his face, and the wind cutting
through his finery, he whistles as he goes, such a plucky, sturdy,
hopeful whistle as calls to arms the courage that lies slumbering in the
hearts of men.

THE END

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