the door and
exclaimed, "Hello! here's Sim. What you got on your mind, Sim?"

Mr. Phinney looked rather solemn. "I wanted to speak with you a minute,
Sol," he began. "Hello! Barzilla, I didn't know you was here."

"I shan't be here but one second longer," replied Mr. Wingate, as he and
Phinney shook hands. "I'm late already. Bailey'll think I ain't comin'.
Good-by, boys. See you this afternoon, maybe."

"Yes, do," cried Berry, as his guest hurried down to the gate. "I want
to hear about those automobiles over your way. You ain't bought one,
have you, Barzilla?"

Wingate grinned over his shoulder. "No," he called, "I ain't. But other
folks you know have. It's the biggest joke on earth. You and Sim'll want
to hear it."

He waved a big hand and walked briskly up the Shore Road. The depot
master turned to his friend.

"Well, Sim?" he asked.

"Well, Sol," answered the building mover gravely, "I've just met Mr.
Hilton, the minister, and he told me somethin' about Olive Edwards,
somethin' I thought you'd want to know. You said for me to find out what
she was cal'latin' to do when she had to give up her home and--"

"I know what I said," interrupted the depot master rather sharply. "What
did Hilton say?"

"Mr. Hilton told me not to tell," continued Phinney, "and I shan't tell
nobody but you, Sol. I know you wont t mention it. The minister says
that Olive's hard up as she can be. All she's got in the world is the
little furniture and store stuff in her house. 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?"

"