Haul on the bowline, the ‘Phrony is a-rollin’,
     Haul on the bowline, the bowline, haul!

CHAPTER XIV

EFFIE’S FATE

Surely, but very, very slowly, the little Berry house moved on its rollers up the Hill Boulevard.  Right at its heels—­if a house may be said to have heels—­came the “pure Colonial,” under the guidance of the foreman with “progressive methods.”  Groups of idlers, male and female, stood about and commented.  Simeon Phinney smilingly replied to their questions.  Captain Sol himself seemed little interested.  He spent most of his daylight time at the depot, only going to the Higginses’ house for his meals.  At night, after the station was closed, he sought his own dwelling, climbed over the joist and rollers, entered, retired to his room, and went to bed.

Each day also he grew more taciturn.  Even with Simeon, his particular friend, he talked little.

“What is the matter with you, Sol?” asked Mr. Phinney.  “You’re as glum as a tongue-tied parrot.  Ain’t you satisfied with the way I’m doin’ your movin’?  The white horse can go back again if you say so.”

“I’m satisfied,” grunted the depot master.  “Let you know when I’ve got any fault to find.  How soon will you get abreast the—­abreast the Seabury lot?”

“Let’s see,” mused the building mover.  “Today’s the eighth.  Well, I’ll be there by the eleventh, sure.  Can’t drag it out no longer, Sol, even if the other horse is took sick.  ’Twon’t do.  Williams has been complainin’ to the selectmen and they’re beginnin’ to pester me.  As for that Colt and Adams foreman—­whew!”

He whistled.  His companion smiled grimly.

“Williams himself drops in to see me occasional,” he said.  “Tells me what he thinks of me, with all the trimmin’s added.  I cal’late he gets as good as he sends.  I’m always glad to see him; he keeps me cheered up, in his way.”

“Ye-es, I shouldn’t wonder.  Was he in to-day?”

“He was.  And somethin’ has pleased him, I guess.  At any rate he was in better spirits.  Asked me if I was goin’ to move right onto that Main Street lot soon as my house got there.”

“What did you say?”

“I said I was cal’latin’ to.  Told him I hated to get out of the high-society circles I’d been livin’ in lately, but that everyone had their comedowns in this world.”

“Ho, ho! that was a good one.  What answer did he make to that?”

“Well, he said the ‘high society’ would miss me.  Then he finished up with a piece of advice.  ‘Berry,’ says he, ’don’t move onto that lot too quick.  I wouldn’t if I was you.’  Then he went away, chucklin’.”

“Chucklin’, hey?  What made him so joyful?”

“Don’t know”—­Captain Sol’s face clouded once more—­“and I care less,” he added brusquely.

Simeon pondered.  “Have you heard from Abner Payne, Sol?” he asked.  “Has Ab answered that letter you wrote sayin’ you’d swap your lot for the Main Street one?”