The Depot Master Part 21

"Olivia, a heavenly sort of look on her face, was standin' in the moonlight, with her hands clasped, lookin' up at the sky.

"'It flies!' says she, in a kind of whisper over and over again. 'Oh! it FLIES!'

"Alongside of her was old Dixland, wrapped in a bedquilt, forgettin' all about sprains and lameness; and he likewise was staring at the sky and sayin' over and over:

"'It flies! It really FLIES!'

"And Nate looked up, and there, scootin' around in circles, now up high and now down low, tippin' this way and tippin' that, was that aeroplane.

And in the stillness you could hear the buzz of the motor and the yells of Augustus.

"Down flopped Scudder in the sand. 'Great land of love,' he says, 'it FLIES!'

"Well, for five minutes or so they watched that thing swoop and duck and sail up there overhead. And then, slow and easy as a feather in a May breeze, down she flutters and lands soft on a hummock a little ways off.

And that Augustus--a fool for luck--staggers out of it safe and sound, and sets down and begins to cry.

"The fust thing to reach him was Olivia. She grabbed him around the neck, and you never heard such goin's on as them two had. Nate come hurryin' up.

"'Here you!' he says, pullin' 'em apart. 'That's enough of this. And you,' he adds to Gus, 'clear right out off this island. I won't make shark bait of you this time, but--'

"And then comes Dixland, hippity-hop over the hummocks. 'My n.o.ble boy!'

he sings out, fallin' all of a heap onto Augustus's round shoulders. 'My n.o.ble boy! My hero!'

"Nate looked on for a full minute with his mouth open. Olivia went away toward the house. The professor and Gus was sheddin' tears like a couple of waterin' pots.

"'Come! come!' says Scudder finally; 'get up, Mr. Dixland; you'll catch cold. Now then, you Tolliver, toddle right along to your boat. Don't you worry, professor, I'll fix him so's he won't come here no more.'

"But the professor turned on him like a flash.

"'How dare you interfere?' says he. 'I forgive him everything. He is a hero. Why, man, he FLEW!'

"Olivia came up behind and touched Nate on the shoulders. 'Don't you think you'd better go, Mr. Scudder?' she purred. 'I've unchained Phillips Brooks.'

"Nate swears he never made better time than he done gettin' to the sh.o.r.e and the boat Augustus had come over in. But that philanthropist dog only missed the supper he'd been waitin' for by about a foot and a half, even as 'twas.

"And that was the end of it, fur's Nate was concerned. Olivia was boss from then on, and Scudder wa'n't allowed to land on his own island. And pretty soon they all went away, flyin' machine and all, and now Gus and Olivia are married."

"Well, by gum!" cried Wingate. "Say, that must have broke Nate's heart completely. All that good money goin' to the poor. Ha! ha!"

"Yes," said Captain Sol, with a broad grin. "Nate told me that every time he realized that Gus's flyin' at all was due to his scarin' him into it, it fairly made him sick of life."

"What did Huldy Ann say? I'll bet the fur flew when SHE heard of it!"

"I guess likely it did. Scudder says her jawin's was the worst of all.

Her princ.i.p.al complaint was that he didn't take up with the professor's five-thousand offer and try to fly. 'What if 'twas risky?' she says.

'If anything happened to you the five thousand would have come to your heirs, wouldn't it? But no! you never think of no one but yourself.'"

Mr. Wingate glanced at his watch. "Good land!" he cried, "I didn't realize 'twas so late. I must trot along down and meet St.i.tt. He and I are goin' to corner the clam market."

"I must be goin', too," said the depot master, rising and moving toward the door, picking up his cap on the way. He threw open the door and exclaimed, "h.e.l.lo! here's Sim. What you got on your mind, Sim?"

Mr. Phinney looked rather solemn. "I wanted to speak with you a minute, Sol," he began. "h.e.l.lo! Barzilla, I didn't know you was here."

"I shan't be here but one second longer," replied Mr. Wingate, as he and Phinney shook hands. "I'm late already. Bailey'll think I ain't comin'.

Good-by, boys. See you this afternoon, maybe."

"Yes, do," cried Berry, as his guest hurried down to the gate. "I want to hear about those automobiles over your way. You ain't bought one, have you, Barzilla?"

Wingate grinned over his shoulder. "No," he called, "I ain't. But other folks you know have. It's the biggest joke on earth. You and Sim'll want to hear it."

He waved a big hand and walked briskly up the Sh.o.r.e Road. The depot master turned to his friend.

"Well, Sim?" he asked.

"Well, Sol," answered the building mover gravely, "I've just met Mr.

Hilton, the minister, and he told me somethin' about Olive Edwards, somethin' I thought you'd want to know. You said for me to find out what she was cal'latin' to do when she had to give up her home and--"

"I know what I said," interrupted the depot master rather sharply. "What did Hilton say?"

"Mr. Hilton told me not to tell," continued Phinney, "and I shan't tell n.o.body but you, Sol. I know you wont t mention it. The minister says that Olive's hard up as she can be. All she's got in the world is the little furniture and store stuff in her house. The store stuff don't amount to nothin', but the furniture belonged to her pa and ma, and she set a heap by it. Likewise, as everybody knows, she's awful proud and self-respectin'. Anything like charity would kill her. Now out West--in Omaha or somewheres--she's got a cousin who owed her dad money. Old Cap'n Seabury lent this Omaha man two or three thousand dollars and set him up in business. Course, the debt's outlawed, but Olive don't realize that, or, if she did, it wouldn't count with her. She couldn't understand how law would have any effect on payin' money you honestly owe. She's written to the Omaha cousin, tellin' him what a sc.r.a.pe she's in and askin' him to please, if convenient, let her have a thousand or so on account. She figgers if she gets that, she can go to Bayport or Orham or somewheres and open another notion store."

Captain Berry lit a cigar. "Hum!" he said, after a minute. "You say she's written to this chap. Has she got an answer yet?"

"No, not any definite one. She heard from the man's wife sayin' that her husband--the cousin--had gone on a fishin' trip somewheres up in Canady and wouldn't be back afore the eighth of next month. Soon's he does come he'll write her. But Mr. Hilton thinks, and so do I--havin' heard a few things about this cousin--that it's mighty doubtful if he sends any money."

"Yes, I shouldn't wonder. Where's Olive goin' to stay while she's waitin' to hear?"

"In her own house. Mr. Hilton went to Williams and pleaded with him, and he finally agreed to let her stay there until the 'Colonial' is moved onto the lot. Then the Edwardses house'll be tore down and Olive'll have to go, of course."

The depot master puffed thoughtfully at his cigar.

"She won't hear before the tenth, at the earliest," he said. "And if Williams begins to move his 'Colonial' at once, he'll get it to her lot by the seventh, sure. Have you given him your figures for the job?"

"Handed 'em in this very mornin'. One of his high-and-mighty servants, all bra.s.s b.u.t.tons and braid, like a feller playin' in the band, took my letter and condescended to say he'd pa.s.s it on to Williams. I'd liked to have kicked the critter, just to see if he COULD unbend; but I jedged 'twouldn't be good business."

"Probably not. If the 'Colonial' gets to Olive's lot afore she hears from the Omaha man, what then?"

"Well, that's the worst of it. The minister don't know what she'll do.

There's plenty of places where she'd be more'n welcome to visit a spell, but she's too proud to accept. Mr. Hilton's afraid she'll start for Boston to hunt up a job, or somethin'. You know how much chance she stands of gettin' a job that's wuth anything."

Phinney paused, anxiously awaiting his companion's reply. When it came it was very unsatisfactory.

"I'm goin' to the depot," said the Captain, brusquely. "So long, Sim."

He slammed the door of the house behind him, strode to the gate, flung it open, and marched on. Simeon gazed in astonishment, then hurried to overtake him. Ranging alongside, he endeavored to reopen the conversation, but to no purpose. The depot master would not talk. They turned into Cross Street.

"Well!" exclaimed Mr. Phinney, panting from his unaccustomed hurry, "what be we, runnin' a race? Why! . . . Oh, how d'ye do, Mr. Williams, sir? Want to see me, do you?"

The magnate of East Harniss stepped forward.