he effort to meet his own obligations was becoming daily
more embarrassing, and he was reduced to economies entirely beneath the
dignity of the editor of "The Opp Eagle." But while he cheerfully
restricted his diet to two meals a day, and wore shirt-fronts in lieu of
the genuine article, he was, according to Nick's ideas, rashly
extravagant in other ways.

"What did you go and buy Widow Green's oil-shares back for?" Nick
demanded upon one of these occasions.

"Well, you see," explained Mr. Opp, "it was purely a business
proposition. Any day, now, things may open up in a way that will
surprise you. I have good reason to believe that those shares are bound
to go up; and besides," he added lamely in an undertone, "I happen to
know that that there lady was in immediate need of a little ready
money."

"So are we," protested Nick; "we need every cent we can get for the
paper. If we don't get ahead some by the first of the year, we are going
under, sure as you live."

Mr. Opp laid a hand upon his shoulder and smiled tolerantly.
"Financiers get used to these fluctuations in money circles. Don't you
worry, Nick; you leave that to the larger brains in the concern."

But in spite of his superior attitude of confidence, Nick's words
rankled in his mind, and the first of the year became a time which he
preferred not to consider.

One day in September the mail-packet brought two letters of great
importance to Mr. Opp. One was from Willard Hinton, the first since his
operation, and the other was from Mr. Mathews, stating that he would
arrive at the Cove that day to lay an important matter of business
before the stock-holders of the Turtle Creek Land Company.

Mr. Opp rushed across the road, a letter in each hand, to share the news
with Guinevere.

"It's as good as settled," he cried, bursting in upon her, where she sat
at the side door wrestling with a bit of needlework. "Mr. Mathews will
be here to-day. He is either going to open up work or sell out to a
syndicate. I'm going to use all my influence for the latter; it's the
surest and safest plan. Miss Guin-never,"--his voice softened,--"this is
all I been waiting for to make my last and final arrangement with your
mother. It was just yesterday she was asking me what I'd decided to do,
and I don't mind telling you, now it's all over, I never went to bed all
last night--just sat up trying to figure it out. But this will settle
it. I'll be in a position to have a little home o