d to lift her eyes.

"You've been mighty good to me," she faltered, "and--and made me lots
happier; but I--I don't care in the way you mean."

"Is there anybody else?" demanded Mr. Opp, ready to hurl himself to
destruction if she answered in the affirmative.

"Oh, no," she answered him; "there never has been anybody."

[Illustration: "'Why, Mr. Opp, I'm not old enough'"]

"Then I'll take my chance," said Mr. Opp, expanding his narrow chest.
"Whatever I've got out of the world I've had to fight for. I don't mind
saying to you that I was sorter started out with a handicap. You know my
sister--she's a--well, a' invalid, you might say, and while her pa was
living, my fortunes wasn't what you might call as favorable as they are
at present. I never thought there would be any use in my considering
getting married till I met you, then I didn't seem able somehow to
consider nothing else. If you'll just let me, I'll wait. I'll learn you
to care. I won't bother you, but just wait patient as long as you say."
And this from Mr. Opp, whose sands of life were already half-run! "All I
ask for," he went on wistfully, "is a little sign now and then. You
might give me a little look or something just to keep the time from
seeming too long."

It was almost a question, and as he leaned toward her, with the sunlight
in his eyes, something of the beauty of the day touched him, too, just
as it touched the weed at his feet, making them both for one
transcendent moment part of the glory of the world.

Guinevere Gusty, already in love with love, and reaching blindly out for
something deeper and finer in her own life, was suddenly engulfed in a
wave of sympathy. She involuntarily put out her hand and touched his
fingers.

The sun went down behind the distant shore, and the light faded on the
river. Mr. Opp was almost afraid to breathe; he sat with his eyes on the
far horizon, and that small, slender hand in his, and for the moment the
world was fixed in its orbit, and Time itself stood still.

Suddenly out of the silence came the long, low whistle of the boat. They
scrambled to their feet and hurried down the path, Mr. Opp having some
trouble in keeping up with the nimbler pace of the girl.

"I'll be calculatin' every minute until the arrival of the boat
to-morrow night," he was gasping as they came within sight of the wharf.
"I'll be envyin' every--"

"Where's my band-box?" demanded Guinevere. "Why, Mr. Opp, if you haven't
gone and le