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Updated: June 4, 2025
Ain't it a joke, though? Where is Sol? I want to be the fust to tell him and see how he acts. Is he to home? "I was shook pretty nigh to pieces, but I had some sense left. "'No, he ain't, says I. 'I see him go up street a spell ago." "Why, Simeon!" interrupted Mrs. Phinney once more. "Was that true? How COULD you see him when " "Be still! S'pose I was goin' to tell him where Sol HAD gone?
This chapter would not be complete without special mention of the dinner of our Rochester men. We number thirteen of them in Burma, and they fill very important places in the work of missions. Two are graduates of our university, but not of our seminary Mr. F. D. Phinney, the superintendent of our Mission Press, and Dr. David Gilmore, the acting principal of our Baptist College.
Hosy laughs at me and maybe I ought to laugh at myself, but some dreams come true, or awfully near to true; now don't they. Angeline Phinney was in here the other day and she was tellin' about her second cousin that was he's dead now Abednego Small.
"Sometimes when Dusenberry gets to cuttin' up and she is sort of provoked, I say to her, 'Old lady, I say, 'if you think THAT'S a naughty boy, you ought to have seen Archibald." "Who was Archibald?" asked Barzilla. "He was a young rip that Sim Phinney and I run across four years ago when we went on our New York cruise together.
And Mr. Phinney, too! Bully! Clear out and let 'em alone, you Indians. "The crowd didn't want to let us alone, but Sam got us clear somehow, and out of the Exchange Buildin' and into the back room of a kind of restaurant. Then he gets chairs for us, orders cigars, and shakes hands once more. "'To think of seein' you two in New York! he says, wonderin'. 'What are you doin' here?
And he hired Issy because well, because "most folks in East Harniss are alike and you can always tell about what they'll say or do. Now Issy's different. The Lord only knows what HE'S likely to do, and that makes him interestin' as a conundrum, to guess at. He kind of keeps my sense of responsibility from gettin' mossy, Issy does." "Issy," hailed Mr. Phinney, "has the Cap'n got here yet?"
The house was situated in "Phinney's Lane," the crooked little byway off "Cross Street," between the "Shore Road" at the foot of the slope and the "Hill Boulevard" formerly "Higgins's Roost" at the top. From the Phinney gate the view was extensive and, for the most part, wet.
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.
"I know he's dreadfully high and mighty and all that," she said. "And the way he said 'Really? when you and I spoke to him was enough to squelch even an Angelina Phinney. But I didn't care so much. Anybody, even a body as green as I am, can see that he actually IS somebody when he's at home, not a make-believe, like that Toronto man.
"Phinney," went on the great man briskly, "I want you to give me your figures on a house moving deal. I have bought a house on the Shore Road, the one that used to belong to the er Smalleys, I believe." Simeon was surprised. "What, the old Smalley house?" he exclaimed. "You don't tell me!"
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