be duly chronicled. Politics!
Why, his paper would be an organ--an organ of the Democratic Party!

At the thought of being an organ, Mr. Opp's bosom swelled with such
pride that his settee creaked, and he glanced apprehensively toward the
other end of the porch.

The young lady was still asleep, with her head resting on her bare arm,
and one foot hanging limply below her ruffled petticoat.

Suddenly Mr. Opp leaned forward and viewed her slipper with interest. He
had recognized the make! It was xxx-aa. He had carried a sample exactly
like it, and had been wont to call enthusiastic attention to the curve
of the instep and the set of the heel. He now realized that the effect
depended entirely on the bow, and he seriously considered writing to the
firm and suggesting the improvement.

In the midst of his reflections the young lady stirred and then sat up.
Her hair was tumbled, and her eyes indicated that she had been indulging
in recent tears. Resting her chin on her palms, she gazed gloomily down
the road.

Mr. Opp, at the other end of the porch, also gazed gloomily down the
road. The fact that he must make his presence known was annihilated by
the yet more urgent fact that he could think of nothing to say. A
bumblebee wheeled in narrowing circles above his head and finally
lighted upon his coat-sleeve. But Mr. Opp remained immovable. He was
searching his vocabulary for a word which would gently crack the silence
without shattering it to bits.

The bumblebee saved the situation. Detecting some rare viand in a crack
of the porch midway between the settee and the hammock, and evidently
being a bibulous bee, it set up such a buzz of excitement that Mr. Opp
looked at it, and the young lady looked at it, and their eyes met.

"Excuse me," said Mr. Opp, rather breathlessly; "you was asleep, and I
come to see Mrs. Gusty, and--er--the fact is--I'm Mr. Opp."

At this announcement the young lady put her hand to her head, and by a
dexterous movement rearranged the brown halo of her hair, and twisted
the pink bow into its proper, aggressive position.

"Mother'll--be back soon,"--she spoke without embarrassment, yet with
the hesitation of one who is not in the habit of speaking for
herself,--"I--I--didn't know I was going to sleep."

"No," said Mr. Opp; then added politely, "neither did I." Silence again
looming on the horizon, he plunged on: "I think I used to be in the
habit of seeing you when you was--er--younger, didn't I