“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?”