The Depot Master Part 22

"Er--Phinney," he said, "I want a moment of your time. Morning, Berry."

"Mornin', Williams," observed Captain Sol brusquely. "All right, Sim.

I'll wait for you farther on."

He continued his walk. The building mover stood still. Mr. Williams frowned with lofty indignation.

"Phinney," he said, "I've just looked over those figures of yours, your bid for moving my new house. The price is ridiculous."

Simeon attempted a pleasantry. "Yes," he answered, "I thought 'twas ridic'lous myself; but I needed the money, so I thought I could afford to be funny."

The Williams frown deepened.

"I didn't mean ridiculously low," he snapped; "I meant ridiculously high. I'd rather help out you town fellows if I can, but you can't work me for a good thing. I've written to Colt and Adams, of Boston, and accepted their offer. You had your chance and didn't see fit to take it.

That's all. I'm sorry."

Simeon was angry; also a trifle skeptical.

"Mr. Williams," he demanded, "do you mean to tell me that THEM people have agreed to move you cheaper'n I can?"

"Their price--their actual price may be no lower; but considering their up-to-date outfit and--er--progressive methods, they're cheaper. Yes.

Morning, Phinney."

He turned on his heel and walked off. Mr. Phinney, crestfallen and angrier than ever, moved on to where the depot master stood waiting for him. Captain Sol smiled grimly.

"You don't look merry as a Christmas tree, Sim," he observed. "What did his Majesty have to say to you?"

Simeon related the talk with Williams. The depot master's grim smile grew broader.

"Sim," he asked, with quiet sarcasm, "don't you realize that progressive methods are necessary in movin' a house?"

Phinney tried to smile in return, but the attempt was a failure.

"Yes," went on the Captain. "Well, if you can't take the Grand Panjandrum home, you can set on the fence and see him go by. That ought to be honor enough, hadn't it? However, I may need some of your ridiculous figgers on a movin' job of my own, pretty soon. Don't be TOO comical, will you?"

"What do you mean by that, Sol Berry?"

"I mean that I may decide to move my own house."

"Move your OWN house? Where to, for mercy sakes?"

"To that lot on Main Street that belongs to Abner Payne. Abner has wanted to buy my lot here on the Sh.o.r.e Road for a long time. He knows it'll make a fine site for some rich bigbug's summer 'cottage.' He would have bought the house, too, but I think too much of that to sell it.

Now Abner's come back with another offer. He'll swap my lot for the Main Street one, pay my movin' expenses and a fair 'boot' besides. He don't really care for my HOUSE, you understand; it's my LAND he's after."

"Are you goin' to take it up?"

"I don't know. The Main Street lot's a good one, and my house'll look good on it. And I'll make money by the deal."

"Yes, but you've always swore by that salt.w.a.ter view of yours. Told me yourself you never wanted to live anywheres else."

Captain Sol took the cigar from his lips, looked at it, then threw it violently into the gutter.

"What difference does it make where I live?" he snarled. "Who in blazes cares where I live or whether I live at all?"

"Sol Berry, what on airth--"

"Shut up! Let me alone, Sim! I ain't fit company for anybody just now.

Clear out, there's a good feller."

The next moment he was striding down the hill. Mr. Phinney drew a long breath, scratched his head and shook it solemnly. WHAT did it all mean?

CHAPTER VIII

THE OBLIGATIONS OF A GENTLEMAN

The methods of Messrs. Colt and Adams, the Boston firm of building movers, were certainly progressive, if promptness in getting to work is any criterion. Two days after the acceptance of their terms by Mr.

Williams, a freight car full of apparatus arrived at East Harniss. Then came a foreman and a gang of laborers. Horses were hired, and within a week the "pure Colonial" was off its foundations and on its way to the Edwards lot. The moving was no light task. The big house must be brought along the Sh.o.r.e Road to the junction with the Hill Boulevard, then swung into that aristocratic highway and carried up the long slope, around the wide curve, to its destination.

Mr. Phinney, though he hated the whole operation, those having it in charge, and the mighty Williams especially, could not resist stealing down to see how his successful rivals were progressing with the work he had hoped to do. It caused him much chagrin to see that they were getting on so very well. One morning, after breakfast, as he stood at the corner of the Boulevard and the Sh.o.r.e Road, he found himself engaged in a mental calculation.

Three days more and they would swing into the Boulevard; four or five days after that and they would be abreast the Edwards lot. Another day and . . . Poor Olive! She would be homeless. Where would she go? It was too early for a reply from the Omaha cousin, but Simeon, having questioned the minister, had little hope that that reply would be favorable. Still it was a chance, and if the money SHOULD come before the "pure Colonial" reached the Edwards lot, then the widow would at least not be driven penniless from her home. She would have to leave that home in any event, but she could carry out her project of opening another shop in one of the neighboring towns. Otherwise . . . Mr.

Phinney swore aloud.

"Humph!" said a voice behind him. "I agree with you, though I don't know what it's all about. I ain't heard anything better put for a long while."

Simeon spun around, as he said afterwards, "like a young one's pinwheel." At his elbow stood Captain Berry, the depot master, hands in pockets, cigar in mouth, the personification of calmness and imperturbability. He had come out of his house, which stood close to the corner, and walked over to join his friend.

"Land of love!" exclaimed Simeon. "Why don't you scare a fellow to death, tiptoein' around? I never see such a cat-foot critter!"

Captain Sol smiled. "Jumpin' it, ain't they?" he said, nodding toward the "Colonial." "Be there by the tenth, won't it?"

"Tenth!" Mr. Phinney sniffed disgust. "It'll be there by the sixth, or I miss my guess."

"Yup. Say, Sim, how soon could you land that shanty of mine in the road if I give you the job to move it?"

"I couldn't get it up to the Main Street lot inside of a fortnight,"

replied Sim, after a moment's reflection. "Fur's gettin' it in the road goes, I could have it here day after to-morrow if I had gang enough."

The depot master took the cigar out of his mouth and blew a ring of smoke. "All right," he drawled, "get gang enough."

Phinney jumped. "You mean you've decided to take up with Payne's offer and swap your lot for his?" he gasped. "Why, only two or three days ago you said--"

"Ya-as. That was two or three days ago, and I've been watchin' the 'Colonial' since. I cal'late the movin' habit's catchin'. You have your gang here by noon to-day."

"Sol Berry, are you crazy? You ain't seen Abner Payne; he's out of town--"