The next moment he was striding down the hill. Mr. Phinney drew a long breath, scratched his head and shook it solemnly. WHAT did it all mean?
CHAPTER VIII
THE OBLIGATIONS OF A GENTLEMAN
The methods of Messrs. Colt and Adams, the Boston firm of building movers, were certainly progressive, if promptness in getting to work is any criterion. Two days after the acceptance of their terms by Mr. Williams, a freight car full of apparatus arrived at East Harniss. Then came a foreman and a gang of laborers. Horses were hired, and within a week the “pure Colonial” was off its foundations and on its way to the Edwards lot. The moving was no light task. The big house must be brought along the Shore Road to the junction with the Hill Boulevard, then swung into that aristocratic highway and carried up the long slope, around the wide curve, to its destination.
Mr. Phinney, though he hated the whole operation, those having it in charge, and the mighty Williams especially, could not resist stealing down to see how his successful rivals were progressing with the work he had hoped to do. It caused him much chagrin to see that they were getting on so very well. One morning, after breakfast, as he stood at the corner of the Boulevard and the Shore Road, he found himself engaged in a mental calculation.
Three days more and they would swing into the Boulevard; four or five days after that and they would be abreast the Edwards lot. Another day and . . . Poor Olive! She would be homeless. Where would she go? It was too early for a reply from the Omaha cousin, but Simeon, having questioned the minister, had little hope that that reply would be favorable. Still it was a chance, and if the money SHOULD come before the “pure Colonial” reached the Edwards lot, then the widow would at least not be driven penniless from her home. She would have to leave that home in any event, but she could carry out her project of opening another shop in one of the neighboring towns. Otherwise . . . Mr. Phinney swore aloud.
“Humph!” said a voice behind him. “I agree with you, though I don't know what it's all about. I ain't heard anything better put for a long while.”
Simeon spun around, as he said afterwards, “like a young one's pinwheel.” At his elbow stood Captain Berry, the depot master, hands in pockets, cigar in mouth, the personification of calmness and imperturbability. He had come out of his house, which stood close to the corner, and walked over to join his friend.
“Land of love!” exclaimed Simeon. “Why don't you scare a fellow to death, tiptoein' around? I never see such a cat-foot critter!”