Mr. Opp

								

hole, over which the flesh had grown, pulsed as sentiently and
imperatively as a naked, living heart.
A shutter slammed sharply somewhere in the house above, and something
stirred fearfully in the shadow of the room. It was a small figure that
crouched against the wall, listening and watching with the furtive
terror of a newly captured coyote--the slight figure of a woman dressed
as a child, with short gingham dress, and heelless slippers, and a
bright ribbon holding back the limp, flaxen hair from her strange,
pinched face.
Again and again her wide, frightened eyes sought the steps leading to
the room above, and sometimes she would lean forward and whisper in
agonized expectancy, "Daddy?" Then when no answer came, she would
shudder back against the wall, cold and shaking and full of dumb
terrors.
Suddenly the hound's howling changed to a sharp bark, and the old
negress stirred and stretched herself.
"What ails dat air dog?" she mumbled, going to the window, and shading
her eyes with her hand. "You'd 'low to hear him tell it he done heared
old master coming up de road."
That somebody was coming was evident from the continued excitement of
the hound, and when the gate slammed and a man's voice sounded in the
darkness, Aunt Tish opened the door, throwing a long, dim patch of light
out across the narrow porch and over the big, round stepping-stones
beyond.
Into the light came Mr. Opp, staggering under the load of his baggage,
his coat over his arm, his collar off, thoroughly spent with the events
of the day.
"Lord 'a' mercy!" said Aunt Tish, "if hit ain't Mr. D.! I done give you
up long ago. I certainly is glad you come. Miss Kippy's jes carrying on
like ever'thing. She ain't been to baid for two nights, an' I can't do
nothin' 't all wif her."
Mr. Opp deposited his things in a corner, and, tired as he was, assumed
an air of authority. It was evident that a man was needed, a person of
firmness, of decision.
"I'll see that she goes to bed at once," he said resolutely. "Where is
she at?"
"She's behind de door," said Aunt Tish; "she's be'n so skeered ever
sence her paw died I can't do nothin' wif her."
"Kippy," said Mr. Opp, sternly, "come out here this minute."
But there was no response. Going to the corner where his coat lay, he
took from the pocket a brown-paper parcel.
"Say, Kippy," he said in a greatly mollified tone, "I wish you would
come on out here and see me. You remember brother D., don't you? You
ought to see what I brought you all the way from the city. It's got blue
eyes."
At this the small, grotesque figure, distrustful, suspicious, ready to
take flight at a word, ventured slowly forth. So slight she was, and so
frail, and so softly she moved, it was almost as if the wind blew her
toward him. Every thought that came into her brain was instantly
reflected in her hypersensitive face, and as she stood before him