you in collective manner herein for the welcome you have
ordained 'The Opp Eagle.'"

Mr. Opp came to a close and waited for applause; nor was he
disappointed.

"Gee! I wish I could write like that!" said Nick, rising on his elbow.
"I can do the printing all right, and hustle around for the news; but I
never know how to put on the trimmings."

Mr. Opp laid a hand upon his shoulder; he was fast developing a
fondness for the youth.

"It's a gift," he said sympathetically, "that I am afraid, my boy,
nobody can't learn you."

"Can I come in?" said a voice from outside, and Mr. Gallop peeped around
the open door.

"Walk in," cried Mr. Opp, while Nick sprang to his feet. "We are just by
way of finishing up the work at hand, and have a few minutes of spare
leisure."

"I just wanted to know if you'd help us get up a town band," said Mr.
Gallop. "I told the boys you'd be too busy, but they made me come. I
asked Mr. Fallows if you was musical; but I wouldn't repeat what he
said."

"Oh, Jimmy is just naturally humoristic," said Mr. Opp. "Go along and
tell me what he remarked."

"Well," said Mr. Gallop, indignantly, "he said you was a expert on the
wind-pipe! Mr. Tucker, I believe it was, thought you used to play the
accordion."

"No," said Mr. Opp; "it was the cornet. I was considerable of a
performer at one time."

"Well, we want you for the leader of our band," said Mr. Gallop. "We are
going to have blue uniforms and give regular concerts up on Main
Street."

Nick Fenny began searching for a pencil.

"You know," went on Mr. Gallop, rapidly, "the last show boat that was
here had a calliope, and there's another one coming next week. All I
have to do is to hear a tune twice, then I can play it. Miss Guin-never
Gusty is going up to Coreyville next week, and she says she'll get us
some new pieces. She's going to select a plush self-rocker for the
congregation to give the new preacher. They're keeping it awful secret,
but I heard 'em mention it over the telephone. The preacher's baby has
been mighty sick, and so has his mother, up at the Ridge; but she's got
well again. Well, I must go along now. Ain't it warm?"

Before Mr. Opp had ceased showing Mr. Gallop out, his attention was
arrested by the strange conduct of his staff. That indefatigable youth
was writing furiously on the new wall-paper, covering the clean brown
surface with large, scrawling characters.

Mr. Opp's indignation was checked at its source by the