The eleventh of July. The little Berry house stood high on its joists and rollers, in the middle of the Hill Boulevard, directly opposite the Edwards lot. Close behind it loomed the big "Colonial." Another twenty-four hours, and, even at its one-horse gait, the depot master's dwelling would be beyond the strip of Edwards fence. The "Colonial" would be ready to move on the lot, and Olive Edwards, the widow, would be obliged to leave her home.
In fact, Mr. Williams had notified her that she and her few belongings must be off the premises by the afternoon of the twelfth.
The great Williams was in high good-humor. He chuckled as he talked with his foreman, and the foreman chuckled in return.
Simeon Phinney did not chuckle. He was anxious and worried, and even the news of Gertie Higgins's runaway marriage, brought to him by Obed Gott, who--having been so recently the victim of another unexpected matrimonial alliance--was wickedly happy over the postmaster's discomfiture, did not interest him greatly.
"Well, I wonder who'll be the next couple," speculated Obed.
"First Polena and old Hardee, then Gertie Higgins and Sam Bartlett!
I declare, Sim, gettin' married unbeknownst to anybody must be catchin', like the measles. Nobody's safe unless they've got a wife or husband livin'. Me and Sol Berry are old baches--we'd better get vaccinated or WE may come down with the disease. Ho! ho!"
After dinner Mr. Phinney went from his home to the depot. Captain Sol was sitting in the ticket office, with the door shut. On the platform, forlornly sprawled upon the baggage truck, was Issy McKay, the picture of desolation. He started nervously when he heard Simeon's step. As yet Issy's part in the Bartlett-Higgins episode was unknown to the townspeople. Sam and Gertie had considerately kept silence. Beriah had not learned who sent him the warning note, the unlucky missive which had brought his troubles to a climax. But he was bound to learn it, he would find out soon, and then-- No wonder Issy groaned.
"Come in here, Sim," said the depot master. Phinney entered the ticket office.
"Shut the door," commanded the Captain. The order was obeyed.
"Well, what is it?" asked Berry.
"Why, I just run in to see you a minute, Sol, that's all. What are you shut up in here all alone for?"
"'Cause I want to be alone. There's been more than a thousand folks in this depot so far to-day, seems so, and they all wanted to talk. I don't feel like talkin'."
"Heard about Gertie Higgins and--"
"Yes."
"Who told you?"
"Hiram Baker told me first. He's a fine feller and he's so tickled, now that his youngster's 'most well, that he cruises around spoutin' talk and joy same as a steamer's stack spouts cinders. He told me. Then Obed Gott and Cornelius Rowe and Redny Blount and Pat Starkey, and land knows how many more, came to tell me. I cut 'em short. Why, even the Major himself condescended to march in, grand and imposin' as a procession, to make proclamations about love laughin' at locksmiths, and so on. Since he got Polena and her bank account he's a bigger man than the President, in his own estimate."
"Humph! Well, he better make the best of it while it lasts.
P'lena ain't Hetty Green, and her money won't hold out forever."
"That's a fact. Still Polena's got sense. She'll hold Hardee in check, I cal'late. I wouldn't wonder if it ended by her bossin' things and the Major actin' as a sort of pet poodle dog--nice and pretty to walk out with, but always kept at the end of a string."
"You didn't go to Higgins's for dinner to-day, did you?"
"No. Nor I shan't go for supper. Beriah's bad enough when he's got nothin' the matter with him but dyspepsy. Now that his sufferin's are complicated with elopements, I don't want to eat with him."
"Come and have supper with us."
"I guess not, thank you, Sim. I'll get some crackers and cheese and such at the store. I--I ain't very hungry these days."
He turned his head and looked out of the window. Simeon fidgeted.
"Sol," he said, after a pause, "we'll be past Olive's by to-morrer night."
No answer. Sim repeated his remark.
"I know it," was the short reply.
"Yes--yes, I s'posed you did, but--"
"Sim, don't bother me now. This is my last day here at the depot, and I've got things to do."
"Your last day? Why, what--?"
Captain Sol told briefly of his resignation and of the coming of the new depot master.
"But you givin' up your job!" gasped Phinney. "YOU! Why, what for?"
"For instance, I guess. I ain't dependent on the wages, and I'm sick of the whole thing."
"But what'll you do?"
"Don't know."
"You--you won't leave town, will you? Lawsy mercy, I hope not!"
"Don't know. Maybe I'll know better by and by. I've got to think things out. Run along now, like a good feller. Don't say nothin' about my quittin'. All hands'll know it to-morrow, and that's soon enough."
Simeon departed, his brain in a whirl. Captain Solomon Berry no longer depot master! The world must be coming to an end.
He remained at his work until supper time. During the meal he ate and said so little that his wife wondered and asked questions. To avoid answering them he hurried out. When he returned, about ten o'clock, he was a changed man. His eyes shone and he fairly danced with excitement.
"Emeline!" he shouted, as he burst into the sitting room. "What do you think? I've got the everlastin'est news to tell!"
"Good or bad?" asked the practical Mrs. Phinney.
"Good! So good that-- There! let me tell you. When I left here I went down to the store and hung around till the mail was sorted.
Pat Starkey was doin' the sortin', Beriah bein' too upsot by Gertie's gettin' married to attend to anything. Pat called me to the mail window and handed me a letter.
"'It's for Olive Edwards,' he says. 'She's been expectin' one for a consider'ble spell, she told me, and maybe this is it. P'r'aps you'd just as soon go round by her shop and leave it.'
"I took the letter and looked at it. Up in one corner was the printed name of an Omaha firm. I never said nothin', but I sartinly hustled on my way up the hill.
