put on de company baid, an' dere ain't three
cups an' saucers in de house what belongs to theyselves. I shorely doan
know what you thinkin' 'bout, Mr. D., to go an' ast company fer. We-all
never does hab company. An' Miss Kippy she be'n habin' a sort er spell,
too, cryin' to herself, an' won't tell me whut's de matter."

Mr. Opp shook the raindrops from his hat-brim, and laid the goose
tenderly on the table; then he stepped inside the dining-room door, and
stood watching the childish figure that sat on the floor before the
fire. She was putting artificial flowers on her head, and every time
they fell off, she dropped her head on her knees and sobbed softly to
herself. Again and again she made the experiment, and again and again
the faded roses came tumbling into her lap.

"I'll fix 'em," said Mr. Opp, coming up behind her; "don't you cry about
it, Kippy; I can make them stay, easy." He searched around in the
clothes-press until he found a paper box, which he tied securely upon
Miss Kippy's head.

"Now try it," he cried; "put the flowers on your head; they'll stay."

Timidly, as if afraid of another disappointment, she tried, and when the
flowers were caught in the box, she gave a sigh of satisfaction and
delight.

"Well, sence I j'ined de church!" exclaimed Aunt Tish, who had been
watching proceedings from the doorway; then she added, as Mr. Opp came
into the hall: "Hit beats my time de way you handles dat pore chile.
Sometimes she got jes good sense as you an' me has. She ast me t'other
day if she wasn't crazy. I 'lowed no indeedy, dat crazy folks was lock
up in a lunatic asylum. An' she says 'Where?' 'Up at Coreyville,' I say.
She went on playin' jes as nice and happy. De chile's all right ef she
don't git a fool notion; den dey ain't nobody kin make out what she
wants inceptin' you. She been cryin' over dem flowers ever sence
breakfast."

"Why didn't you come after me?" demanded Mr. Opp.

"Jes to tie a box on her haid?" asked Aunt Tish. "Lor', I thought you
was busy makin' dem newspapers."

"So I am," said Mr. Opp, "but whenever Miss Kippy gets to crying, I want
you to come direct after me, do you hear? There ain't anything more
important than in keeping her from getting worried. Now, let's have a
look at that there table-cloth."

All afternoon Mr. Opp encountered difficulties that would have
disheartened a less courageous host. With the limited means at hand it
seemed impossible to entertain in a manner