Part 30

"What's the matter, Val?" asked Mr. Opp. "Lost something?"

Val raised a pair of mournful eyes. "Yas, sir; you bet I is. Done lost a penny Mr. Jimmy Fallows gimme for puttin' my fisty in my mouf."

"Putting your fist in your mouth!" repeated Mr. Opp, surprised. "Can you perform that act?"

Val promptly demonstrated; but just as he was midway, a peremptory voice called from a rear window:

"Val! You Val! You better answer me this minute!"

Val cowered lower behind the fence, and violently motioned Mr. Opp to go on.

"Is--er--is Mrs. Gusty feeling well to-day?" asked Mr. Opp, still lingering at the gate.

"Jes tolerable," said Val, lying flat on his back and speaking in guarded tones. "Whenever she gits to beatin' de carpets, an' spankin' de beds, and shakin' de curtains, I keeps outen de way."

"Do you think--er--that--er--I better go in?" asked Mr. Opp, sorely in need of moral support.

"Yas, sir; she's 'spectin' yer."

This surprising announcement nerved Mr. Opp to open the gate.

It is said that the best-drilled soldiers dodge when they first face the firing-line, and if Mr. Opp's knees smote together and his body became bathed in profuse perspiration, it should not be attributed to lack of manly courage.

In response to his knock, Mrs. Gusty herself opened the door. The signs that she had been interrupted in the midst of her toilet were so unmistakable that Mr. Opp promptly averted his eyes. A shawl had been hastily drawn about her shoulders, on one cheek a streak of chalk awaited distribution, and a single bristling curl-paper, rising fiercely from the top of her forehead, gave her the appearance of a startled unicorn.

"You'll have to excuse me, Mr. Opp," she said firmly, putting the door between them. "I can't come out, and you can't come in. Did you want anything?"

"Well, yes," said Mr. Opp, looking helplessly at the blank door. "You see, there is a matter I have been considering discussing with you for a number of weeks. It's a--"

"If it's waited this long, I should think it could wait till to-morrow," announced the lady with decision.

Mr. Opp felt that his courage could never again stand the strain of the last few moments. He must speak now or never.

"It's immediate," he managed to gasp out. "If you could arrange to give me five or ten minutes, I won't occupy more than that."

Mrs. Gusty considered. "I am looking for company myself at five o'clock. That wouldn't give you much time."

"Ample," urged Mr. Opp; "it's just a little necessary transaction, as it were."

Mrs. Gusty reluctantly consented.

"You go on in the parlor, then," she said. "I'll be in as quick as I can. You won't more than have time to get started, though."

Mr. Opp passed into the parlor and hung his hat on the corner of a large, unframed canvas that stood on the floor with its face to the wall. The room had evidently been prepared for a visitor, for a fire was newly kindled and a vase of flowers adorned the table. But Mr. Opp was not making observations. He alternately warmed his cold hands at the fire, and fanned his flushed face with his handkerchief. He was too nervous to sit still, yet his knees trembled when he moved about. It was only when he touched the little packet of letters in his breast pocket that his courage revived.

At last Mrs. Gusty came in with a rustle of garments suggestive of Sunday. Even in his confusion Mr. Opp was aware that there was something unusual in her appearance. Her hair, ordinarily drawn taut to a prim knot at the rear, had burst forth into curls and puffs of an amazing complexity. Moreover, her change of coiffure had apparently affected her spirits, for she, too, was flurried and self-conscious and glanced continually at the clock on the mantel.

"I'll endeavor not to intrude long on your time," began Mr. Opp, politely, when they were seated side by side on the horse-hair sofa. "You--er--can't be in total ignorance of the subject that--er--I mean to bring forward." He moistened his lips, and glanced at her for succor, but she was adamant. "I want to speak with you," he plunged on desperately--"that is, I thought I had better talk with you about Mr. Hinton."

"Who?" blazed forth Mrs. Gusty in indignant surprise.

"Mr. Hinton," said Mr. Opp, breathlessly, "a young friendly acquaintance of mine. Wants to get board for the summer, you know; would like a nice, quiet place and all that, Mrs. Gusty. I thought I'd consult you about it, Mrs. Gusty, if you don't mind."

She calmly fixed one eye upon him and one upon the clock while he went into particulars concerning Mr. Hinton. When he paused for breath, she folded her arms and said: