?" exclaimed Simeon. "What for? Why, we'll be slow enough,
as 'tis. With only one horse we wouldn't get through for I don't know
how long."

"That's so," murmured the Captain. "I s'pose with one horse you'd hardly
reach the middle of the Boulevard by--well, before the tenth of the
month. Hey?"

The tenth of the month! The TENTH! Why, it was on the tenth that that
Omaha cousin of Olive Edwards was to--Mr. Phinney began to see--to see
and to grin, slow but expansive.

"Hm-m-m!" he mused.

"Yes," observed Captain Sol. "That white horse of yours looks sort of
ailin' to me, Sim. I think he needs a rest."

And, sure enough, next day the white horse was pronounced unfit and
taken back to the stable. The depot master's dwelling moved, but that is
all one could say truthfully concerning its progress.

At the depot the Captain was quieter than usual. He joked with his
assistant less than had been his custom, and for the omission Issy
was duly grateful. Sometimes Captain Sol would sit for minutes without
speaking. He seemed to be thinking and to be pondering some grave
problem. When his friends, Mr. Wingate, Captain Stitt, Hiram Baker, and
the rest, dropped in on him he cheered up and was as conversational as
ever. After they had gone he relapsed into his former quiet mood.

"He acts sort of blue, to me," declared Issy, speaking from the depths
of sensational-novel knowledge. "If he was a younger man I'd say he was
most likely in love. Ah, hum! I s'pose bein' in love does get a feller
mournful, don't it?"

Issy made this declaration to his mother only. He knew better than to
mention sentiment to male acquaintances. The latter were altogether too
likely to ask embarrassing questions.

Mr. Wingate and Captain Stitt were still in town, although their stay
was drawing to a close. One afternoon they entered the station together.
Captain Sol seemed glad to see them.

"Set down, fellers," he ordered. "I swan I'm glad to see you. I ain't
fit company for myself these days."

"Ain't Betsy Higgins feedin' you up to the mark?" asked Stitt. "Or is
house movin' gettin' on your vitals?"

"No," growled the depot master, "grub's all right and so's movin',
I cal'late. I'm glad you fellers come in. What's the news to Orham,
Barzilla? How's the Old Home House boarders standin' it? Hear from
Jonadab regular, do you?"

Mr. Wingate laughed. "Nothin' much," he said. "Jonadab's too busy
to write these days. Bein' a sport interferes with l