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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.
"Yes, yes, Mr. Williams. They'll be low enough. Times is kind of dull now and I'd like a movin' job first-rate. I'll give 'em to you to-morrer. But but Olive'll have to move, won't she? And where's she goin'?" "She'll have to move, sure. And the eyesore on that lot now will come down." The "eyesore" was the four room building, combined dwelling and shop of Mrs.
And 'twould be hard to tell which thinks the most of you, Al. . . . Eh? Why, it's after half-past twelve o'clock! Olive'll be for combin' our topknots with a belayin' pin if we keep her dinner waitin' like this." As they were putting on their coats the captain spoke again. "I hadn't finished what I was sayin' to you when Labe came in," he observed.
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