There was a long silence, during which each pursued a widely different line of thought.
“We have got a newspaper at the Cove now,” announced Guinevere. “It’s an awful nice paper, called ‘The Opp Eagle.’”
“Opp?” repeated Hinton. “Oh, yes, that was the man I telephoned to. What sort of chap is he, anyhow?”
“He’s awfully smart,” said Guinevere, her cheeks tingling. “Not so much [p169] book learning, but a fine brain. The preacher says he’s got a natural gift of language. You ought to see some of his editorials.”
“Hiding his light under a bushel, isn’t he?”
“That’s just it,” said Guinevere, glad to expatiate on the subject. “If Mr. Opp could get in a bigger place and get more chances, he’d have a lot more show. But he won’t leave Miss Kippy. She’s his sister, you know; there is only the two of them, and she’s kind of crazy, and has to have somebody take care of her. Mother thinks it’s just awful he don’t send her to an asylum, but I know how he feels.”
“Is he a young man?” asked Mr. Hinton.
“Well—no, not exactly; he’s just seventeen years and two months older than I am.”
“Oh,” said Hinton, comprehensively.
There was another long pause, during which Guinevere turned things over in [p170] her mind, and Mr. Hinton knocked the ashes from his pipe.