The Depot Master Part 10

"'Yes,' says Jotham. 'Well, here's the way it stands. I'll read it to you.'

"He fixes his specs and reads like this:

"'Number of votes cast, 32.'

"'Honorable Atkinson Holway has 4.'

"'WHAT?' gasps Stingy Gabe, fallin' into his chair.

"'Yes, sir,' says Jotham. 'It's a shame, I know, but it looks as n.o.body voted for you, Mr. Holway, but yourself and me and Dan and Gaius. To proceed:

"'Daniel Ba.s.sett has 9.'

"The Conservatives and their women folks fairly groaned out loud.

Tompkins jumped to his feet, but Jotham held up a hand.

"'Just a moment, D'rius,' he says. 'I ain't through yet.'

"'Gaius Ellis has 9.'

"Then 'twas the Progressives' turn to groan. The racket and hubbub was gettin' louder all the time.

"'There's ten votes left,' goes on Jotham, 'and they bear the name of Jotham W. Gale. I can't understand it, but it does appear that I'm elected president of this 'ere club. Gentlemen, I thank you for the honor, which is as great as 'tis unexpected.'

"Gabe and the Progressives and the Conservatives set and looked at each other. And up jumps 'Bije Simmons, and calls for three cheers for the new president.

"n.o.body jined in them cheers but the old billiard room gang; they did, though, every one of 'em, and Jotham smiled fatherly down on his flock.

"I s'pose there ain't no need of explainin'. Jotham had worked it all, from the very fust. When the tie business begun and Gaius and Dan was bribin' the billiard roomers to jine the club, 'twas him that fixed how they should vote so's to keep the deadlock goin'. 'Twas him that put Ba.s.sett up to proposin' him as a member. 'Twas him that suggested Gabe's comin' back to Gaius. 'Twas him that--But what's the use? 'Twas him all along. He was IT.

"That night everybody but the billiard-room gang sent in their resignation to that club. We refused to be bossed by such people. Gabe resigned, too. He was disgusted with East Harniss and all hands in it.

He'd have took back the clubhouse, but he couldn't, as the deed of gift was free and clear. But he swore he'd never give it another cent.

"Folks thought that would end the thing, because it wouldn't be self-supportin', but Jotham had different idees. He simply moved his pool tables and truck up from the old shop, and now he's got the finest place of the kind on the Cape, rent free.

"'I told you 'twould make a good billiard saloon, didn't I, Bailey?' he says, chucklin'.

"'Jotham,' says I, 'of your kind you're a perfect wonder.'

"'Well,' says he, 'I diagnosed that men's club as sufferin' from acute politics. I've been doctorin' that disease for a long time. The trouble with you reformers,' he adds, solemn, 'is that, when it comes to political doin's, you ain't practical.'

"As for Stingy Gabe, he shut up his fine house and moved to New York.

Said he was through with helpin' the moral tone.

"'When I die,' he says to me, 'if I go to the bad place I may start in reformin' that. It don't need it no more'n South Orham does, but 'twill be enough sight easier job.'

"And," concluded Captain St.i.tt, as soon as he could be heard above the "Haw! haws!" caused by the Honorable Holway's final summing-up of his native town, "I ain't so sure that he was greatly mistook. What do you think, Sol?"

The depot master shook his head. "Don't know, Bailey," he answered, dryly. "I'll have to visit both places 'fore I give an opinion. I HAVE been to South Orham, but the neighborhood that your friend Gabe compared it to I ain't seen--yet. I put on that 'yet,'" he added, with a wink, "'cause I knew Sim Phinney would if I didn't."

Captain Bailey rose and covered a yawn with a plump hand.

"I believe I'll go over to Obed's and turn in," he said. "I'm sleepy as a minister's horse tonight. You don't mind, do you, Obed?"

"No-o," replied Mr. Gott, slowly. "No, I don't, 'special. I kind of thought I'd run into the club a few minutes and see some of the other fellers. But it ain't important--not very."

The "club" was one of the rooms over Mr. Higgins's store and post office. It had been recently fitted up with chairs and tables from its members' garrets and, when the depot and store were closed, was a favorite gathering place of those reckless ones who cared to "set up late"--that is, until eleven o'clock. Most of the men in town belonged, but many, Captain Berry among them, visited the room but seldom.

"Checkers," said the depot master, referring to the "club's" favorite game, "is too deliberately excitin' for me. To watch Beriah Higgins and Ezra Weeks fightin' out a game of checkers is like gettin' your feet froze in January and waitin' for spring to come and thaw 'em out. It's a numbin' kind of dissipation."

But Obed Gott was a regular attendant at the "club," and to-night he had a particular reason for wishing to be there. His cousin noticed his hesitation and made haste to relieve his mind.

"That's all right, Obed," he said, "go to the club, by all means. I ain't such a stranger at your house that I can't find my way to bed without help. Good-night, Sim. Good-night, Issy. Cheer up; maybe the Major's gla.s.sware IS priceless. So long, Cap'n Sol. See you again some time tomorrer."

He and Mr. Gott departed. The depot master rose from his chair. "Issy,"

he commanded, "shut up shop."

Issy obeyed, closing the windows and locking the front door. Captain Sol himself locked the ticket case and put the cash till into the small safe.

"That'll do, Is," said the Captain. "Good-night. Don't worry too much over the Major's gla.s.s. I'll talk with him, myself. You dream about pleasanter things--your girl, if you've got one."

That was a chance shot, but it struck Issy in the heart. Even during his melancholy progress to and from Major Hardee's, the vision of Gertie Higgins had danced before his greenish-blue eyes. His freckles were engulfed in a surge of blushes as, with a stammered "Night, Cap'n Berry," he hurried out into the moonlight.

The depot master blew out the lamps. "Come on, Sim," he said, briefly.

"Goin' to walk up with me, or was YOU goin' to the club?"

"Cal'late I'll trot along with you, if you don't mind. I'd just as soon get home early and wrastle with the figures on that Williams movin'

job."

They left the depot, locked and dark, pa.s.sed the "general store," where Mr. Higgins was putting out his lights prior to adjournment to the "club" overhead, walked up Main Street to Cross Street, turned and began climbing the hill. Simeon spoke several times but his friend did not answer. A sudden change had come over him. The good spirits with which he told of his adventure with Williams and which had remained during Phinney's stay at the depot, were gone, apparently. His face, in the moonlight, was grave and he strode on, his hands in his pockets.

At the crest of the hill he stopped.

"Good-night, Sim," he said, shortly, and, turning, walked off.

The building mover gazed after him in surprise. The nearest way to the Berry home was straight down Cross Street, on the other side of the hill, to the Sh.o.r.e Road, and thence along that road for an eighth of a mile. The Captain's usual course was just that. But to-night he had taken the long route, the Hill Boulevard, which made a wide curve before it descended to the road below.

Sim, who had had a shrewd suspicion concerning his friend's silence and evident mental disturbance, stood still, looking and wondering. Olive Edwards, Captain Berry's old sweetheart, lived on the Boulevard. She was in trouble and the Captain knew it. He had asked, that very evening, what she was going to do when forced to move. Phinney could not tell him. Had he gone to find out for himself? Was the mountain at last coming to Mohammed?

For some minutes Simeon remained where he was, thinking and surmising.

Then he, too, turned and walked cautiously up the Boulevard. He pa.s.sed the Williams mansion, its library windows ablaze. He pa.s.sed the twenty-five room "cottage" of the gentleman from Chicago. Then he halted. Opposite him was the little Edwards dwelling and shop. The curtains were up and there was a lamp burning on the small counter.

Beside the lamp, in a rocking chair, sat Olive Edwards, the widow, sewing. As he gazed she dropped the sewing in her lap, and raised her head.

Phinney saw how worn and sad she looked. And yet, how young, considering her forty years and all she had endured and must endure. She put her hand over her eyes, then removed it wearily. A lump came in Simeon's throat. If he might only help her; if SOME ONE might help her in her lonely misery.

And then, from where he stood in the shadow of the Chicago gentleman's hedge, he saw a figure step from the shadows fifty feet farther on.

It was Captain Solomon Berry. He walked to the middle of the road and halted, looking in at Olive. Phinney's heart gave a jump. Was the Captain going into that house, going to HER, after all these years? WAS the mountain--