uous pain, we know that behind the clouds of
suffering the blue sky of health is still shining, and that a
brighter day is coming, as it were.

The night of Mr. Opp's return from Coreyville, he had written a long
letter to Guinevere Gusty telling her of his final decision in regard to
Kippy, and releasing her from her promise. This having been
accomplished, he ceased to fight against the cold and exhaustion, and
went to bed with a hard chill.

Aunt Tish, all contrition for the disasters she thought she had brought
upon the household, served him night and day, and even Miss Kippy, moved
by the unusual sight of her brother in bed, made futile efforts to
assist in the nursing.

When at last he was able to crawl back to the office, he found startling
changes had taken place in the Cove. The prompt payment of the oil
stock-holders by the Union Syndicate had brought about such a condition
of prosperity and general satisfaction as had never before been known.
The civic spirit planted and carefully nourished by "The Opp Eagle"
burst into bloom under this sudden and unexpected warmth. Committees,
formed the year before, were called upon for reports, and gratifying
results were obtained. The Cove awoke to the fact that it had
lamp-posts, and side-walks and a post-office, with a possibility,
looming large, of a court house.

Nor did this ambition for improvement stop short with the town: it
extended to individuals. Jimmy Fallows was going to build a new hotel;
Mr. Tucker was going to convert his hotel into a handsome private
residence, for which Mrs. Gusty had been asked to select the wall-paper;
Mat Lucas was already planning to build a large store on Main Street,
and had engaged Mr. Gallop to take charge of the dry-goods department.
The one person upon whom prosperity had apparently had a blighting
effect was Miss Jim Fenton. Soon after the receipt of her check, she had
appeared in the Cove in a plain, black tailor suit, and a small, severe
felt hat innocent of adornment. The French-heeled slippers had been
replaced by heavy walking shoes, and the lace scarf was discarded for a
stiff linen collar.

But the state of Miss Jim's mind was not to be judged by the somberness
of her raiment. The novelty of selecting her own clothes, of consulting
her own taste, of being rid of the entangling dangers of lace ruffles
and flying furbelows, to say nothing of unwelcome suitors, gave her a
sense of exhilaration and independence