"Er--Phinney," he said, " I want a moment of your time. Morning, Berry."
"Mornin', Williams," observed Captain Sol brusquely. "All right, Sim. I'll wait for you farther on."
He continued his walk. The building mover stood still. Mr. Williams frowned with lofty indignation.
"Phinney," he said, "I've just looked over those figures of yours, your bid for moving my new house. The price is ridiculous."
Simeon attempted a pleasantry. "Yes," he answered, "I thought 'twas ridic'lous myself; but I needed the money, so I thought I could afford to be funny."
The Williams frown deepened.
"I didn't mean ridiculously low," he snapped; "I meant ridiculously high. I'd rather help out you town fellows if I can, but you can't work me for a good thing. I've written to Colt and Adams, of Boston, and accepted their offer. You had your chance and didn't see fit to take it. That's all. I'm sorry."
Simeon was angry; also a trifle skeptical.
"Mr. Williams," he demanded, "do you mean to tell me that THEM people have agreed to move you cheaper'n I can?"
"Their price--their actual price may be no lower; but considering their up-to-date outfit and--er--progressive methods, they're cheaper. Yes. Morning, Phinney."
He turned on his heel and walked off. Mr. Phinney, crestfallen and angrier than ever, moved on to where the depot master stood waiting for him. Captain Sol smiled grimly.
"You don't look merry as a Christmas tree, Sim," he observed.
"What did his Majesty have to say to you?"
Simeon related the talk with Williams. The depot master's grim smile grew broader.
"Sim," he asked, with quiet sarca**, "don't you realize that progressive methods are necessary in movin' a house?"
Phinney tried to smile in return, but the attempt was a failure.
"Yes," went on the Captain. "Well, if you can't take the Grand Panjandrum home, you can set on the fence and see him go by. That ought to be honor enough, hadn't it? However, I may need some of your ridiculous figgers on a movin' job of my own, pretty soon.
Don't be TOO comical, will you?"
"What do you mean by that, Sol Berry?"
"I mean that I may decide to move my own house."
"Move your OWN house? Where to, for mercy sakes?"
"To that lot on Main Street that belongs to Abner Payne. Abner has wanted to buy my lot here on the Shore Road for a long time. He knows it'll make a fine site for some rich bigbug's summer 'cottage.' He would have bought the house, too, but I think too much of that to sell it. Now Abner's come back with another offer.
He'll swap my lot for the Main Street one, pay my movin' expenses and a fair 'boot' besides. He don't really care for my HOUSE, you understand; it's my LAND he's after."
"Are you goin' to take it up?"
"I don't know. The Main Street lot's a good one, and my house'll look good on it. And I'll make money by the deal."
"Yes, but you've always swore by that saltwater view of yours.
Told me yourself you never wanted to live anywheres else."
Captain Sol took the cigar from his lips, looked at it, then threw it violently into the gutter.
"What difference does it make where I live?" he snarled. "Who in blazes cares where I live or whether I live at all?"
"Sol Berry, what on airth--"
"Shut up! Let me alone, Sim! I ain't fit company for anybody just now. Clear out, there's a good feller."
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?
