The store stuff don't amount to nothin', but the furniture belonged to her pa and ma, and she set a heap by it. Likewise, as everybody knows, she's awful proud and self-respectin'. Anything like charity would kill her. Now out West--in Omaha or somewheres--she's got a cousin who owed her dad money. Old Cap'n Seabury lent this Omaha man two or three thousand dollars and set him up in business. Course, the debt's outlawed, but Olive don't realize that, or, if she did, it wouldn't count with her. She couldn't understand how law would have any effect on payin' money you honestly owe. She's written to the Omaha cousin, tellin' him what a scrape she's in and askin' him to please, if convenient, let her have a thousand or so on account. She figgers if she gets that, she can go to Bayport or Orham or somewheres and open another notion store."
Captain Berry lit a cigar. "Hum!" he said, after a minute. "You say she's written to this chap. Has she got an answer yet?"
"No, not any definite one. She heard from the man's wife sayin' that her husband--the cousin--had gone on a fishin' trip somewheres up in Canady and wouldn't be back afore the eighth of next month.
Soon's he does come he'll write her. But Mr. Hilton thinks, and so do I--havin' heard a few things about this cousin--that it's mighty doubtful if he sends any money."
"Yes, I shouldn't wonder. Where's Olive goin' to stay while she's waitin' to hear?"
"In her own house. Mr. Hilton went to Williams and pleaded with him, and he finally agreed to let her stay there until the 'Colonial' is moved onto the lot. Then the Edwardses house'll be tore down and Olive'll have to go, of course."
The depot master puffed thoughtfully at his cigar.
"She won't hear before the tenth, at the earliest," he said. "And if Williams begins to move his 'Colonial' at once, he'll get it to her lot by the seventh, sure. Have you given him your figures for the job?"
"Handed 'em in this very mornin'. One of his high-and-mighty servants, all brass buttons and braid, like a feller playin' in the band, took my letter and condescended to say he'd pass it on to Williams. I'd liked to have kicked the critter, just to see if he COULD unbend; but I jedged 'twouldn't be good business."
"Probably not. If the 'Colonial' gets to Olive's lot afore she hears from the Omaha man, what then?"
"Well, that's the worst of it. The minister don't know what she'll do. There's plenty of places where she'd be more'n welcome to visit a spell, but she's too proud to accept. Mr. Hilton's afraid she'll start for Boston to hunt up a job, or somethin'. You know how much chance she stands of gettin' a job that's wuth anything."
Phinney paused, anxiously awaiting his companion's reply. When it came it was very unsatisfactory.
"I'm goin' to the depot," said the Captain, brusquely. "So long, Sim."
He slammed the door of the house behind him, strode to the gate, flung it open, and marched on. Simeon gazed in astonishment, then hurried to overtake him. Ranging alongside, he endeavored to reopen the conversation, but to no purpose. The depot master would not talk. They turned into Cross Street.
"Well!" exclaimed Mr. Phinney, panting from his unaccustomed hurry, "what be we, runnin' a race? Why! . . . Oh, how d'ye do, Mr. Williams, sir? Want to see me, do you?"
The magnate of East Harniss stepped forward.
