xt7dr785j53p https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7dr785j53p/data/mets.xml Rice, Alice Caldwell Hegan, 1870-1942. 1909 books b92-241-31439112 English Century Co., : New York : Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Mr. Opp / by Alice Hegan Rice ; with illustrations by Leon Guipon. text Mr. Opp / by Alice Hegan Rice ; with illustrations by Leon Guipon. 1909 2002 true xt7dr785j53p section xt7dr785j53p

' He read impressively "

MR. OPP

BY
ALICE HEGAN RICE
AUTHOR OF "MRS. WIGGS Or TRY CABBAGE PATCH,"
"LOVEY MARY," "SANDY," ETC.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
BY LEON GUIPON

NEW YORK
THE CENTURY Co.
1909

Published, April, 1909

THE DE VINNE PREe

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

"He read impressively' . . . .

I ' Don 't leave me)' "

" 'Why, Mr. Opp, I 'm not old enough

" It was Mr. Opp saying his prayers "

I ' Oh, my God, it has come '' . .

" 'Can 't nobody beat me making skirtsb

PAGE
. Frontispiece

. . . 45

. . . 1299

. . . 197

. . . 263

s'1 ".. . 319

This page in the original text is blank.

MR. OPP

This page in the original text is blank.

MR. OPP

HOPE your passenger
has n't missed his
train," observed the fer-
ryma to Mr. Jimmy
Fallows-, awho soii- on the
river bank with the
painter of his rickety little naplhtha
launch held loosely in his hand.
"Mr. Opp " said. Jimmy " I bet he
did. If there is one person in the world
that 's got a talent for missing things,
it 's Mr. Opp. I never seen him that he
had n't just missed gettin' a thousand
dollar job, or inventin' a patent, or bein'
hurt when he had took out a accident
policy. If he did ketch a train, like
enough it was goin' the wrong way."

Mr. Opp

Jimmy had been waiting since nine in
the morning, and it was now well past
noon. He was a placid gentleman of
curvilinear type, short of limb and large
of girth. His trousers, of that morose
hue termed by the country people
"plum," reached to his armpits, and his
hat, large and felt and weather-beaten,
was only prevented from eclipsing his
head by the stubborn resistance of two
small, knob-like ears.
"Mr. Opp ain't been back to the Cove
for a long while. has he 7 " asked the fer-
ryman, wsose intellectual life depended
solely upon the crumbs of information
Ecattered by chauce passers-by.
"GTcin' on_ two years," said Mr. Fal-
lows. " Reckon he 's been so busy form-
in' trusts and buyin' out railways and
promotin' things generally that he ain't
had any time to come back home. It 's
his step-pa's funeral that 's bringin'
him now. The only time city folks seem
to want to see their kin folks in the coun-
try is when they are dead."
"Ain 't that him a-comin ' down the
4

Mr. Opp

bank" asked the ferryman, shading his
eyes with his hands.
Mr. Fallows, with some difficulty, got
to his feet.
"Yes, that 's him all right. Hustlin'
to beat the band. Wonder if he takes me
for a street car."
Coming with important stride down
the wharf, and whistling as he came, was
a small man of about thirty-five. In one
hand he carried a large suit-case, and in
the other a new and shining grip. On
both were painted, in letters designed to
be seen, "D. Webster Opp, Kentucky."
In fact, everything about him was evi-
dently designed to be seen. His new suit
of insistent plaid, his magnificent tie sag-
ging with the weight of a colossal scarf-
pin, his brown hat, his new tan shoes, all
demanded individual and instant atten-
tion.
The only insignificant thing about M r.
Opp was himself. His slight, undevel-
oped body seemed to be in a chronic state
of apology for failing properly to set off
the glorious raiment wherewith it was
5

Mr. Opp

clothed. His pock-marked face, wide at
the temples, sloped to a small, pointed
chin, which, in turn, sloped precipitously
into a long, thin neck. It was Mr. Opp's
eyes, however, that one saw first, for
they were singularly vivid, with an ex-
pression that made strangers sometimes
pause in the street to ask him if he had
spoken to them. Small, pale, and red of
rim, they nevertheless held the look of
intense hunger-hunger for the hope or
the happiness of the passing moment.
As he came bustling down to the
water's-edge he held out a friendly hand
to Jimmy Fallows.
"How are you, Jimmy" he said in a
voice freighted with importance. " Hope
I have n't kept you waiting long. Sev-
eral matters of business come up at the
last and final moment, and I missed the
morning train."
Jimmy, who was pouring gasolene
into a tank in the launch, treated the
ferryman to a prodigious wink.
"Oh, not more 'n four or five hour,"
he said, casting side glances of mingled
6

Mr. Opp

scorn and admiration at Mr. Opp's at-
tire. " It is a good thing it was the
funeral you was tryin' to get to instid
of the death-bed."
"Oh, that reminds me, " said Air. Opp,
suddenly exchanging his air of cheerful-
ness for one of becoming gravity-
" what time is the funeral obsequies
going to take place"
" Whenever we git there, " said
Jimmy, pushing off the launch and wav-
ing his hand to the ferryman. "You 're
one of the chief mourners, and I 'm the
undertaker; there ain't much danger in
us gettin' left."
Mr. Opp deposited his baggage care-
fully on the seat, and spread his coat
across the new grip to keep it from get-
ting splashed.
"How long was Mr. Moore sick" he
asked, fanning himself with his hat.
"Well," said Jimmy, "he was in a
dangerous and critical condition for
about twenty-one years, accordin' to his
own account. I been seein' him durin'
that time on a average of four times a
7

Mr. Opp

day, and last night when I seen him in
his coffin it was the first time the old
gentleman failed to ask me to give him a
drink on account of his poor health."
" Is Ben there ' " asked Mr. Opp, study-
ing a time-table, and making a note in his
memorandum-book.
" Your brother Ben Yes; he come
this mornin' just before I left. He was
cussin' considerable because you was n't
there, so 's they could go on and git
through. He wants to start back to Mis-
souri to-night."
"Is he out at the house "
"No; he 's at Your Hotel."
Mr. Opp looked up in surprise, and
Jimmy chuckled.
"That there 's the name of my new
hotel. Started up sence you went away.
Me and old man Tucker been running
boardin '-houses side by side all these
years. What did he do last summer but
go out and git him a sign as big as the
side of the house, and git Nick Fenny to
paint 'Our Hotel' on it; then he put it
up right across the sidewalk, from the
8

Mr. Opp

gate clean out to the road. I did n't say
nothin', but let the boys keep on a-kid-
din' me till the next day; then I got me
a sign jus' like his, with 'Your Hotel' on
it, and put it up crost my sidewalk.
He 'd give a pretty if they was both
down now; but he won't take his down
while mine is up, and I ain't got no
notion of taking it down. "
"Yes," said Mr. Opp, absently, for his
mind was still on the time-table; "I see
that there 's an accommodation that de-
parts out of Coreyville in the neighbor-
hood of noon to-morrow. It 's a little
unconvenient, I 'm afraid, but do you
think you could get me back in time to
take it"
"Why, what 's yer hurry" asked
Jimmy, steering for mid-stream. "I
thought you 'd come to visit a spell, with
all them bags and things."
Mr. Opp carelessly tossed back the
sleeve of the coat, to display more fully
the name on the suit-case. "Them 's
drummers' samples," he said almost
reverently-" the finest line of shoes that
.9

Mr. Opp

have ever been put out by any house in
the United States, bar none."
" Why, I thought you was in the in-
surance business," said Jimmy.
"Oh, no; that was last year, just pre-
vious to my reporting on a newspaper.
This"-and Mr. Opp tried to spread out
his hands, but was slightly deterred by
the size of his cuffs-"this is the chance
I been looking for all my life. It takes
brains and a ' educated nerve, and a
knowledge of the world. I ought to
create considerable capital in the next
few years. And just as soon as I do"-
and Mr. Opp leaned earnestly toward
Jimmy, and tapped one finger upon the
palm of his other hand-"just as soon
as I do, I intend to buy up all the land
lying between Turtle Creek and the
river. There 's enough oil under that
there ground to ca 'm the troubled
waters of the Pacific Ocean. You re-
member old Mr. Beeker Well, he told
me, ten years ago, that he bored a well
for brine over there, and it got so full of
black petroleum he had to abandon it.
10

Mr. Opp

Now, I 'm calculating on forming a stock
company,-you and Mr. Tucker, I and
old man Hager, and one or two others,-
and buying up that ground. Then we '11
sink a test well, get up a derricK and a'
engine, and have the thing running in no
time. The main thing is a competent
manager. You know I 'm thinking
seriously of taking it myself It 's too
big a proposition to run any risks with."
"Here, say, wait a minute; how long
have you had this here shoe job "
Jimmy caught madly at the first fact in
sight to keep him from being swept away
by the flood of Mr. Opp's oily possibili-
ties.
"I taken it last week," said Mr. Opp;
"had to go all the way to Chicago to get
my instructions, and to get fitted out.
My territory is a specially important
one; four counties, all round Chicago."
"I was in Chicago oncet, " said
Jimmy, his eyes brightening at the mem-
ory. "By golly! if the world is as big in
every direction as it is in that, she 's a
whopper!"
11

Mr. Opp

The wind, freshening as they got
under way, loosened the canvas over-
head, and Mr. Opp rose to buckle it into
place. As he half knelt in the bow of the
boat, he lifted his face to the cool breeze,
and took a deep breath of satisfaction.
The prosaic river from Coreyville to the
Cove was the highway he knew best in
the world. Under the summer sunshine
the yellow waters lost their sullen hue,
and reflected patches of vivid red and
white from the cottages and barns that
dotted the distant shore.
"I don't consider there 's any scene-
ries in the country that '11 even begin to
compare with these here," Mr. Opp an-
nounced, out of the depths of his wide
experience. "Just look at the sunshine
pouring forth around the point of the
island. It spills through the trees and
leaks out over the water just like quick-
silver. Now, that 's a good thought!
It 's perfectly astounding, you might say
surprising, how easy thoughts come to
me. I ought to been a writer; lots of
folks have said so. Why, there ain't a
12

Mr. Opp

day of my life that I don't get a poem in
my head. "
"Shucks!" observed Jimmy Fallows.
"I 'd as lief read figgers on a tow-boat
as to read poetry. Old man Gusty used
to write poetry, but he could n't get no-
body to print it, so he decided to start a
newspaper at the Cove and chuck it full
of his own poems. He bought a whole
printin' outfit, and set it up in Pete
Aker's old carpenter shop out there at
the edge of town, opposite his home. But
'fore he got his paper started he up and
died. Yes, sir; and the only one of his
poems that he ever did git in print was
the one his wife had cut on his tomb-
stone. "
Mr. Opp was not listening. With his
head bared and his lips parted he was in-
dulging in his principal weakness. For
Mr. Opp, it must be confessed, was given
to violent intoxication, not from an ex-
traneous source, but from too liberal
draughts of his own imagination. In
extenuation, the claims of genius might
be urged, for a genius he unquestionably
13

Mr. Opp

was in that he created something out of
nothing. Out of an abnormal childhood,
a lonely boyhood, and a failure-haunted
manhood, he had managed to achieve an
absorbing career. Each successive en-
terprise had loomed upon his horizon big
with possibilities, and before it sank to
oblivion, another scheme, portentous,
significant, had filled its place. Life was
a succession of crises, and through them
he saw himself moving, now a shrewd
merchant, now a professional man, again
an author of note, but oftenest of all a
promoter of great enterprises, a finan-
cier, and man of affairs.
While he was thus mentally engaged
in drilling oil-wells, composing poetry,
and selling shoes, Jimmy Fallows was
contemplating with fascinated wonder an
object that floated from his coat pocket.
From a brown-paper parcel, imperfectly
wrapped, depended a curl of golden hair,
and it bobbed about in the breeze in a
manner that reduced Mr. Fallows to a
state of abject curiosity.
So intent was Jimmy upon his investi-
14

Mr. Opp

gation that he failed to hold his course,
and the launch swung around the end of
the island with such a sudden jerk that
Mr. Opp took an unexpected seat.
As he did so, his hand touched the
paper parcel in his pocket, and realizing
that it was untied, he hastily endeavored,
by a series of surreptitious manceuvers,
to conceal what it contained. Feeling the
quizzical eye of his shipmate full upon
him, he assumed an air of studied indif-
ference, and stoically ignored the subter-
ranean chuckles and knowing winks in
which Mr. Fallows indulged.
Presently, when the situation had be-
come poignant, Mr. Opp observed that he
supposed the funeral would take place
from the church.
" I reckon so, " said Jimmy, reluctantly
answering to the call of the conversa-
tional rudder. "I told the boys to have
a hack there for you and Mr. Ben and
Miss Kippy."
" I don't think my sister will be there,"
said Mr. Opp, with dignity; " she seldom
or never leaves the house."
15

Mr. Opp

"Reckon Mr. Ben will have to take
keer of her now," said Jimmy; "she
surely will miss her pa. He never done
a lick of work since I knowed him, but he
was a nice, quiet old fellow, and he cer-
tainly was good to pore Miss Kippy. "
" Mr. Moore was a gentleman," said
Mr. Opp, and he sighed.
"Ain't she got any kin on his side
No folks except you two half-brothers"
"That 's all," said Mr. Opp; "just I
and Ben."
"Gee! that 's kind of tough on you all,
ain't it'"
But the sympathy was untimely, for
Mr. Opp's dignity had been touched in a
sensitive place.
" Our sister will be well provided for,"
he said, and the conversation suffered a
relapse.
Mr. Opp went back to his time-tables
and his new note-book, and for the rest
of the trip Jimmy devoted himself to his
wheel, with occasional ocular excursions
in the direction of Mr. Opp 's coat pocket.

YTNG in the crook of the
river's elbow, with the
nearest railroad eighteen
miles away, Cove City,
familiarly known as the
Cove, rested serenely un-
disturbed by the progress of the world.
Once a day, at any time between sun-
down and midnight, it was roused from
its drowsiness by the arrival of the mail-
boat, and, shaking itself into temporary
wakefulness, sat up and rubbed its eyes.
This animation was, however, of short
duration, for before the packet had
whistled for the next landing, the Cove
had once more settled back into slumber.
Main Street began with a shabby, un-
painted school-house, and following dra-
matic sequence, ended abruptly in the
graveyard. Two cross-streets, which had
started out with laudable ideas of inde-

Mr. Opp

pendence, lost courage at Main Street
and sought strength in union; but the
experiment was not successful, and a
cow-path was the result. The only sem-
blance of frivolity about the town was a
few straggling cottages on stilts of vary-
ing height as they approached the river;
for they seemed ever in the act of hold-
ing up their skirts preparatory to wad-
ing forth into the water.
On this particular summer afternoon
Cove City was less out of crimp than
usual. The gathering of loafers that
generally decorated the empty boxes
piled along the sidewalk was missing.
The old vehicles and weary-looking
mules which ordinarily formed an irreg-
ular fringe along the hitching rail were
conspicuously absent. A subdued ex-
citement was in the air, and at the slight-
est noise feminine heads appeared at
windows, and masculine figures appeared
in doorways, and comments were ex-
changed in low tones from one side of
the street to the other. For the loss of
a citizen, even a poor one, disturbs the
18

Mr. Opp

surface of affairs, and when the event
brings two relatives from a distance, the
ripples of excitement increase percepti-
bly.
Mr. Moore had been a citizen-in-law,
as it were, and had never been considered
in any other light than poor Mrs. Opp's
widower. Mrs. Opp's poor widower
might have been a truer way of stating
it, but even a town has its parental weak-
nesses.
For two generations the Opp family
had been a source of mystery and ro-
mance to the Cove. It stood apart, like
the house that held it, poor and shabby,
but bearing a baffling atmosphere of gen-
tility, of superiority, and of reserve.
Old women recalled strange tales of'
the time when Mrs. Opp had come to the
Cove as a bride, and how she refused to
meet any of the townspeople, and lived
alone in the old house on the river-bank,
watching from hour to hour for the wild
young husband who clerked on one of the
river steamers. They told how she grew
thin and white with waiting, and how,
19

Mr. Opp

when her two boys were small, she made
them stand beside her for hours at a
time, watching the river and listening for
the whistle of his boat. Then the story
went that the gay young husband stopped
coming altogether, and still she watched
and waited, never allowing the boys out
of her sight, refusing to send them to
school, or to let them play with other
children. By and by word was brought
that her husband had been killed in a
quarrel over cards, and little Mrs. Opp,
having nothing now to watch for and to
wait for, suddenly became strangely
changed.
Old Aunt Tish, the negro servant, was
the only person who ever crossed the
threshold, and she told of a strange life
that went on behind the closely curtained
windows, where the sunlight was never
allowed to enter, and lamps burned all
day long.
"Yas, 'mi," she used to say in answer
to curious questionings; "hit 's jes like
play-actin' all de time. The Missis dress
herself up, an' 'tend like she 's a queen
20

Mr. Opp

or a duke or somethin', an' dat little D.
he jes acts out all dem fool things she
tells him to, an' he ain't never bein' his-
self at all, but jes somebody big and
mighty and grand-like. "
When the boys were half-grown, a
stranger appeared in the Cove, a dapper
little man of about fifty in a shabby frock-
coat and a shabbier high hat, kind of face
and gentle of voice, but with the dignity
of conscious superiority. The day of his
arrival he called upon Mrs. Opp; the
second day he took a preacher with him
and married her. Whatever old romance
had led to this climax could only be dimly
guessed at by the curious townspeople.
For two years Mr. Moore fought for
the mind of his old sweetheart as he had
long ago fought for her heart. He
opened the house to the sunshine, and
coaxed the little lady back into the world
she had forgotten. The boys were sent
to school, the old games and fancies were
forbidden. Gradually the color returned
to her cheeks, and the light to her eyes.
Then little Kippy was born, and hap-
21

Mr. Opp

piness such as seldom comes to one who
has tasted the dregs of life came to the
frail little woman in the big four-poster
bed. For ten days she held the baby fin-
gers to her heart, and watched the little
blossom of a maid unfold.
But one black night, when the rain
beat against the panes, and the moan of
the river sounded in her ears, she sud-
denly sat up in bed: she had heard the
whistle of his boat! Full of dumb terror
she crept to the window, and with her
face pressed against the glass she waited
and watched. The present was swal-
lowed up in the past. She was once more
alone, unloved, afraid. Stealthily snatch-
ing a cloak, she crept down into the gar-
den, feeling her way through the sodden
grass, and the jimpson weed which the
rain had beaten down.
And ever since, when children pass the
house on their way to school, they peep
through the broken fence rails, and point
out to one another, in awed tones, the
tree under which Miss Kippy's mother
killed herself. Then they look half-fear-
22

Mr. Opp

fully at the windows in the hope of catch-
ing a glimpse of Miss Kippy herself.
For Kippy had had a long illness in
her thirteenth year which left her with
the face and mind of a little child, and
kindly, shabby Mr. Moore, having made
the supreme effort of his life, from this
time on ceased to struggle against the
weakness that for half a lifetime had be-
set him, and sought oblivion in innocuous
but perpetual libations. The one duty
which he recognized was the care of his
invalid daughter.
As soon as they were old enough, the
boys launched their small craft and set
forth to seek their fortunes. Ben, with
no cargo on board but his own desires,
went west and found a snug and com-
fortable harbor, while D. Webster, the
hope of his mother and the pride of the
town, was at thirty-five still putting out
to sea, with all sail set, only to find him-
self again and again aground on the
sandbars of the old familiar Cove.

III

_IMMY FALLOWS, being the
boastful possessor of the
fleetest horse in town,
was the first to return
, ! from the funeral. Ex-
r tricating himself with
some difficulty from the narrow-seated
buggy, he held out his hand to Mrs. Fal-
lows. But that imposing lady, evidently
offended with her jovial lord, refused his
proffered aid, and clambered out over
the wheel on the other side.
Mrs. Fallows, whose architectural ef-
fects were strictly perpendicular, cast a
perpetual shadow of disapproval over
the life partner whom it had pleased
Providence to bestow upon her. Jimmy
was a born satirist; he knew things are
not what they seem, and he wickedly re-
joiced thereat. To his literal, pious-
24

Mlr. Opp

minded wife he at times seemed the
incarnation of wickedness.
Sweeping with dignity beneath the
arching sign of Your Hotel, she took her
seat upon the porch, and, disposing her
sable robes about her, folded her mitted
hands, and waited to see the people re-
turn from the funeral.
Jimmy, with the uncertain expression
of one who is ready to apologize, but can-
not remember the offense, hovered about
uneasily, casting tempting bits of con-
versational bait into the silence, but fail-
ing to attract so much as a nibble of
attention.
"Miss Jemima Fenny was over to the
funeral from Birdtown. Miss Jim is one
of 'em, ain't she"
There was no response.
" Had her brother Nick with her. He 's
just gettin' over typhoid fever; looks
about the size and color of a slate pencil.
I bet, in spite of Miss Jim's fine clothes,
they ain't had a square meal for a month.
That 's because she kept him at school so
long when he orter been at work. He did
25

Mr. Opp

git a job in a newspaper office over at
Coreyville not long 'fore he was took
sick. They tell me he 's as slick as a
onion about newspaper work. "
Continued silence; but Jimmy boldly
cast another fly:
"Last funeral we had was Mrs. Tuck-
er's, was n't it Old man Tucker was
there to-day. Crape band on his hat is
climbin' up; it '11 be at high mast ag'in
soon. "
Dense, nerve-racking silence; but
Jimmy made one more effort:
"The Opps are coming back here to-
night to talk things over before Ben goes
on to Missouri. He counts on ketchin'
the night boat. It won't give him much
time, will it"
But Mrs. Fallows, unrelaxed, stared
fixedly before her; she had taken refuge
in that most trying of all rejoinders, si-
lence, and the fallible Jimmy, who waxed
strong and prospered upon abuse,
drooped and languished under this new
and cruel form of punishment.
It was not until a buggy stopped at the
26

Mr. Opp

door, and the Opp brothers descended,
that the tension was in any way relieved.
Jimmy greeted them with the joy of an
Arctic explorer welcoming a relief party.
" Come right on in here, in the of-
fice," he cried hospitably; "your talkin'
won't bother me a speck."
But Ben abruptly expressed his desire
for more private quarters, and led the
way up-stairs.
The low-ceiled room into which he
ushered D. Webster was of such a de-
pressing drab that even the green and
red bed-quilt failed to disperse the
gloom. The sole decoration, classic in
its severity, was a large advertisement
for a business college, whereon an elk's
head grew out of a bow of ribbon, the
horns branching and rebranching into a
forest of curves and flourishes.
The elder Opp took his seat by the
window, and drummed with impatient
fingers on the sill. He was small, like his
brother, but of a compact, sturdy build.
His chin, instead of dwindling to a point,
was square and stubborn, and his eyes
27

Mr. Opp

looked straight ahead at the thing he
wanted, and neither saw nor cared for
what lay outside. He had been trying
ever since leaving the cemetery to bring
the conversation down to practical mat-
ters, but D. Webster, seizing the first op-
portunity of impressing himself upon his
next of kin, had persisted in indulging in
airy and time-destroying flights of fancy.
The truth is that our Mr. Opp was not
happy. In his secret heart he felt a bit
apologetic before the material success of
his elder brother. Hence it was neces-
sary to talk a great deal and to set forth
in detail the very important business
enterprises upon which he was about to
embark.
Presently Ben Opp looked at his
watch.
" See here, " he interrupted, " that boat
may be along at any time. We 'd better
come to some decision about the estate."
D. Webster ran his fingers through his
hair, which stood in valiant defense of
the small bald spot behind it.
"Yes, yes," he said; "business is busi-
28

Mr. Opp

ness. I '11 have to be off myself the very
first thing in the morning. This funeral
could n't have come at a more unfortu-
nate time for me. You see, my special
territory-"
But Ben saw the danger of another
bolt, and checked him:
" How much do you think the old house
is worth"
D. Webster drew forth his shiny note-
book and pencil and made elaborate cal-
culations.
"I should say," he said, as one finan-
cier to another, "that including of the
house and land and contents of same, it
would amount to the whole sum total of
about two thousand dollars."
"That is about what I figured," said
Ben; "now, how much money is in the
bank"
D. Webster produced a formidable
packet of letters and papers from his in-
side pocket and, after some searching,
succeeded in finding a statement, which
set forth the fact that the Ripper County
Bank held in trust one thousand dollars,
29

Mr. Opp

to be divided between the children of
Mary Opp Moore at the death of her
husband, Curtis V. Moore.
"One thousand dollars!" said Ben,
looking blankly at his brother, "Why,
for heaven's sake, what have Mr. Moore
and Kippy been living on all these
years"
D. Webster moved uneasily in his
chair. "Oh, they 've managed to get
along first rate," he said evasively.
His brother looked at him narrowly.
"On the interest of a thousand dollars "
He leaned forward, and his face hard-
ened: "See here, have you been putting
up cash all this time for that old codger
to loaf on Is that why you have never
gotten ahead "
D. Webster, with hands in his pockets
and his feet stretched in front of him,
was blinking in furious embarrassment
at the large-eyed elk overhead.
"To think," went on Ben, his slow
wrath rising, "of your staying here in
Kentucky all these years and handing
out what you made to that old sponger.
30

Mr. Opp

I cut loose and made a neat little sum,,
married, and settled down. And what
have you done Where have you gotten -
Anybody that would let himself be im-
posed upon like that deserves to fail.
Now what do you propose to do about
this money"
Mr. Opp did not propose to do any-
thing. The affront offered his business
sagacity was of such a nature that it de-
manded all his attention. He composed
various denunciatory answers with which
to annihilate his brother. He hesitated
between two courses, whether he should
hurl himself upon him in righteous indig-
nation and demand physical satisfaction,.
or whether he should rise in a calm and
manly attitude and wither him with
blighting sarcasm. And while the deci-
sion was pending, he still sat with his
hands in his pockets, and his feet
stretched forth, and blinked indignantly
at the ornate elk.
" The estate," continued Ben, con-
tempt still in his face, "amounts at most
to three thousand dollars, after the house
.31

Mr. Opp

is sold. Part of this, of course, will go
to the maintenance of Kippy."
At mention of her name, Mr. Opp's
gaze dropped abruptly to his brother's
face.
" What about Kippy She 's going to
live with you, ain't she" he asked anx-
iously.
Ben Opp shook his head emphatically.
"She certainly is not. I have n 't the
slightest idea of burdening myself and
family with that feeble-minded girl."
"But see here," said Mr. Opp, his an-
ger vanishing in the face of this new
complication, "you don't know Kippy;
she 's just similar to a little child, quiet
and gentle-like. Never give anybody any
trouble in her life. Just plays with her
dolls and sings to herself all day."
"Exactly," said Ben; "twenty-five
years old and still playing with dolls. I
saw her yesterday, dressed up in all
sorts of foolish toggery, talking to her
hands, and laughing. Aunt Tish humors
her, and her father humored her, but
I 'm not going to. I feel sorry for her
32

Mr. Opp

all right, but I am not going to take her
home with me."
D. Webster nervously twisted the
large seal ring which he wore on his
forefinger. "Then what do you mean,"
he said hesitatingly-"what do you want
to do about it"
"Why, send her to an asylum, of
course. That 's where she ought to have
been all these years."I
Mr. Opp, sitting upon the small of his
back, with one leg wrapped casually
about the leg of the chair, stared at him
for a moment in consternation, then,
gathering himself together, rose and for
the first time since we have met him
seemed completely to fill his checked
ready-made suit.
" Send Kippy to a lunatic asylum!" he
said in tones so indignant that they made
his chin tremble. "You will do nothing
whatever of the kind! Why, all she 's
ever had in the world was her pa and
Aunt Tish and her home; now he 's gone,
you ain't wanting to take the others
away from her too, are you"
3 33

Mr. Opp

" Well, who is going to take care of
her" demanded Ben angrily.
"I am," announced D. Webster, strik-
ing as fine an attitude as ever his illus-
trious predecessor struck; "you take the
money that 's in the bank, and leave me
the house and Kippy. That '11 be her
share and mine. I can take care of her;
I don't ask favors of nobody. Suppose
I do lose my job; I 'II get me another.
There 's a dozen ways I can make a liv-
ing. There ain't a man in the State
that 's got more resources than me. I
got plans laid now that '11 revolution-
ize -"
" Yes, " said Ben, quietly, " you always
could do great things."
D. Webster's egotism, inflated to the
utmost, burst at this prick, and he sud-
denly collapsed. Dropping limply into
the chair by the table, he held his hand
over his mouth to hide his agitation.
" There 's-there 's one thing," he be-
gan, swallowing violently, and winking
after each word, "that I-I can't do
34

Mr. Opp

-and that 's to leave a-sister-to die-
among strangers."
And then, to his mortification, his
head went unexpectedly down upon his
arms, and a flood of tears bedimmed the
radiance of his twenty-five-cent four-in-
hand.
From far down the river came the
whistl