At the end of the crowded ward, with her face to the wall, was a slight, familiar figure. Mr. Opp started forward; then he turned fiercely upon the attendant.
"Her hands are tied! Who dared to tie her up like that?"
"It's just a soft handkerchief," replied the matronly woman, reassuringly. "We were afraid she would pull her hair out. She wants it fixed a certain way; but she's afraid for any of us to touch her.
She has been crying about it ever since she came."
In an instant Mr. Opp was on his knees beside her. "Kippy, Kippy darling, here's brother D.; he'll fix it for you! You want it parted on the side, don't you, tied with a bow, and all the rest hanging down?
Don't cry so, Kippy. I'm here now; brother D.'ll take care of you."
She flung her loosened arms around him and clung to him in a passion of relief. Her sobs shook them both, and his face and neck were wet with her tears.
As soon as they could get her sufficiently quiet, they took her into her little bedroom.
"You let the lady get you ready," urged Mr. Opp, still holding her hand, "and I'll take you back home, and Aunt Tish will have a nice, hot supper all waiting for us."
But she would let nobody else touch her, and even then she broke forth into piteous sobs and protests. Once she pushed him from her and looked about wildly. "No, no," she cried, "I mustn't go; I am crazy!"
But he told her about the three little kittens that had been born under the kitchen steps, and in an instant she was a-tremble with eagerness to go home to see them.
An hour later Mr. Opp and his charge sat on the river-bank and waited for the little launch that was to take them back to the Cove. A curious crowd had gathered at a short distance, for their story had gone the rounds.
Mr. Opp sat under the fire of curious glances, gazing straight in front of him, and only his flushed face showed what he was suffering.
Miss Kippy, in her strange clothes and with her pale hair flying about her shoulders, sat close by him, her hand in his.
"D.," she said once in a high, insistent voice, "when will I be grown up enough to marry Mr. Hinton?"
Mr. Opp for a moment forgot the crowd. "Kippy," he said, with all the gentle earnestness that was in him, "you ain't never going to grow up at all. You are just always going to be brother D.'s little girl. You see, Mr. Hinton's too old for you, just like--" he paused, then finished it bravely--"just like I am too old for Miss Guin-never. I wouldn't be surprised if they got married with each other some day.
You and me will just have to take care of each other."
She looked at him with the quick suspicion of the insane, but he was ready for her with a smile.
"Oh, D.," she cried, in a sudden rapture, "we are glad, ain't we?"
FOOTNOTES:
[60] _Mr. Opp_ was dramatized by Douglas Z. Doty, a New York editor, and presented at Macaulay's Theatre, in Louisville, but it was shortly sent to the store-house. _Mrs. Wiggs_ was put into play-form by Mrs.
Anne (Laziere) Crawford Flexner, in 1904, with Madge Carr Cook in the title-role. Mrs. Flexner was born at Georgetown, Kentucky; educated at Vassar; married Abraham Flexner of Louisville, June 23, 1898; lived at Louisville until June, 1905, since which time she has spent a year in Cambridge, Mass., and a year abroad; now residing in New York City.
She has written two original plays: _A Man's Woman_, in four acts; and _A Lucky Star_, the fount of inspiration being a novel by C. N. and A.
M. Williamson, entitled _The Motor Chaperon_, which was produced by Charles Frohman, with Willie Collier in the steller part, at the Hudson Theatre, New York, in 1910. She also dramatized A. E. W.
Mason's story, _Miranda of the Balcony_ (London, 1899), which was produced in New York by Mrs. Fiske in 1901. Mrs. Flexner is the only successful woman playwright Kentucky has produced; and it is a real pity that none of her plays have been published. _Mrs. Wiggs_ has held the "boards" for eight year; and it seems destined to go on forever.
[61] Copyright, 1909, by the Century Company.
RICHARD H. WILSON
Richard Henry Wilson ("Richard Fisguill"), novelist and educator, was born near Hopkinsville, Kentucky, March 6, 1870. He received the degrees of B. A. and M. A. from South Kentucky College, and Ph. D. from Johns Hopkins in 1898. Dr. Wilson spent ten years in Europe studying at universities in France, Germany, Italy, and Spain; and he married a Frenchwoman. He has been a great "globe-trotter," and he speaks a dozen languages fluently. Since 1899 Dr. Wilson has been professor of Romantic languages at the University of Virginia. All the appointments of his home are in the French style, and French is the language of the family.
Professor Wilson is a good Kentuckian, nevertheless, and he knows the land and the people well. He is to the University of Virginia what Professor Charles T. Copeland is to Harvard. His first book, _The Preposition A_, is now out of print. His novel, _Mazel_ (New York, 1902), takes rather the form of a satire upon life at the University of Virginia. Professor Wilson's next story, _The Venus of Cadiz_ (New York, 1905), is a rollicking extravaganza of cave and country life at Cadiz, Kentucky. Both of his novels have been issued under his pen-name of "Richard Fisguill"--"Fisguill" being bastard French for "Wilson."
Professor Wilson contributes much to the magazines. Four of his short-stories were printed in _Harper's Weekly_ between April and October of 1912, under the following titles, and in the order of their appearance: _Orphanage_, _The Nymph_, _Seven Slumbers_, and _The Princess of Is_. Another story, _The Waitress at the Phoenix_, was published in _Collier's_ for September 7, 1912. A collection of his short-stories may be issued in 1913.
BIBLIOGRAPHY. _Library of Southern Literature_ (Atlanta, 1910, v.
xv); _Who's Who in America_ (1912-1913).
SUSAN--THE VENUS OF CADIZ[62]
[From _The Venus of Cadiz_ (New York, 1905)]
Colonel Norris was as laconic as usual, not even giving his address.
He had written four letters in twelve years.
"The Colonel means a million francs," explained Captain Malepeste. "His letter was addressed to me, and he knows I always count in francs."
"The Colonel means a million marks," replied Captain Bisherig. "He began his letter: 'Dear Malepeste and Bisherig,' and I don't believe Colonel Norris would think in francs when he had me in mind."
"But the Colonel is an American," observed Gertrude. "Don't you think it would be more natural for him to count and think in dollars--a million dollars?"
"No, I do not," replied Doctor Alvin. "I believe all of you are wrong.
The Colonel is in Australia. His business relations are doubtless with English houses. And in my opinion he means pounds, English money--a million pounds sterling."
"Why, that would make five million dollars!" exclaimed Gertrude.
"Twenty million marks!" ejaculated Captain Bisherig.
"Twenty-five million francs!" echoed Captain Malepeste.
"That is what it would be," assented Doctor Alvin, "and that is what the Colonel means, I feel sure. Nor am I surprised. Norris is a man of remarkable business instincts. He is as cool and collected on the floor of a stock exchange as he was on the field of battle. Then he had every incentive to make a fortune. And he has made one, take my word for it."
"Nom d'une pipe!" exclaimed Captain Malepeste. "We will all go to Paris, and buy a hotel on the Champs-Elysees!"
"We will do no such thing," objected Captain Bisherig. "Your modern Babylon is no place for respectable folks to live in."
Captain Malepeste retorted:
"Well, if you think we should be willing to put up with more than one 'Dutchman,' and live in Germany--God forbid!"
Captain Bisherig and Captain Malepeste retired to the Music Room that they might settle with swords the question of the respective merits of Germany and France. Gertrude followed in the capacity of second and surgeon to both men. Susan and Doctor Alvin remained alone. Catherine had retired to her bedroom.
"So papa is coming back with a fortune," observed Dr. Alvin, affectionately. "And ... and what is our Susie going to do--give a ball, and invite the Governor of Kentucky?"
"If father comes back with a million, I am going somewhere to study art," replied Susan.
The reply came so quickly that Dr. Alvin was startled.
Susan had fought out her battles alone. Unperceived she had crossed the threshold of womanhood.