Mr. Opp

								

suit of insistent plaid, his magnificent tie sagging with the weight of
a colossal scarf-pin, his brown hat, his new tan shoes, all demanded
individual and instant attention.
The only insignificant thing about Mr. Opp was himself. His slight,
undeveloped body seemed to be in a chronic state of apology for failing
properly to set off the glorious raiment wherewith it was 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 expression 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 haven't kept you waiting long. Several 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 scorn and admiration at Mr. Opp's attire. "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 Mr. Opp, suddenly exchanging his air of
cheerfulness 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 waving
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 carefully on the seat, and spread his coat
across the new grip to keep it from getting 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 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, studying 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 wasn't there, so's they could go on and
git through. He wants to start back to Missouri 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