d up
with a piece of advice. 'Berry,' says he, 'don't move onto that lot TOO
quick. I wouldn't if I was you.' Then he went away, chucklin'."

"Chucklin', hey? What made him so joyful?"

"Don't know"--Captain Sol's face clouded once more--"and I care less,"
he added brusquely.

Simeon pondered. "Have you heard from Abner Payne, Sol?" he asked. "Has
Ab answered that letter you wrote sayin' you'd swap your lot for the
Main Street one?"

"No, he hasn't. I wrote him that day I told you to move me."

"Hum! that's kind of funny. You don't s'pose--"

He stopped, noticing the expression on his friend's face. The depot
master was looking out through the open door of the waiting room. On
the opposite side of the road, just emerging from Mr. Higgins's "general
store," was Olive Edwards, the widow whose home was to be pulled down
as soon as the "Colonial" reached its destination. She came out of
the store and started up Main Street. Suddenly, and as if obeying an
involuntary impulse, she turned her head. Her eyes met those of Captain
Sol Berry, the depot master. For a brief instant their glance met, then
Mrs. Edwards hurried on.

Sim Phinney sighed pityingly. "Looks kind of tired and worried, don't
she?" he ventured. His friend did not speak.

"I say," repeated Phinney, "that Olive looks sort of worn out and--"

"Has she heard from the Omaha cousin yet?" interrupted the depot master.

"No; Mr. Hilton says not. Sol, what DO you s'pose--"

But Captain Sol had risen and gone into the ticket office. The door
closed behind him. Mr. Phinney shook his head and walked out of the
building. On his way back to the scene of the house moving he shook his
head several times.

On the afternoon of the ninth Captain Bailey Stitt and his friend
Wingate came to say good-by. Stitt was going back to Orham on the "up"
train, due at 3:30. Barzilla would return to Wellmouth and the Old Home
House on the evening (the "down") train.

"Hey, Sol!" shouted Wingate, as they entered the waiting room. "Sol!
where be you?"

The depot master came out of the ticket office. "Hello, boys!" he said
shortly.

"Hello, Sol!" hailed Stitt. "Barzilla and me have come to shed the
farewell tear. As hirelin's of soulless corporations, meanin' the Old
Home House at Wellmouth and the Ocean House at Orham, we've engaged all
the shellfish along-shore and are goin' to clear out."

"Yes," chimed in his fellow "hireling," "and we thought the pleasantest
place to p