n going out. And Cap'n Berry--the depot
master--says he went to Trumet on the afternoon freight. We must have
passed each other on the way. And I'm so--But why are you HERE? And what
were you and Issy doing? And--"

Her lover broke in eagerly. "Then you're alone now?" he asked.

"Yes, but--"

"Good! Your father can't get a train back from Trumet before to-morrow
morning. I don't know what this letter was--but never mind. Perhaps
friend McKay knows more about it. It may be that Mr. Higgins is waiting
now outside the Baptist church. Gertie, now's our chance. You come with
me right up to the minister's. He's a friend of mine. He understands.
He'll marry us, I know. Come! We mustn't lose a minute. Your dad may
take a notion to drive back."

He led her off up the lane, she protesting, he urging. At the corner of
the house he turned.

"I say, Is!" he called. "Don't you want to come to the wedding? Seems
to me we owe you that, considering all you've done to help it along. Or
perhaps you want to stay and fix that compass of yours."

Issy didn't answer. Some time after they had gone he arose from the
ground and stumbled home. That night he put a paper novel into the
stove. Next morning, before going to the depot, he removed an iron spike
from the Lady May's compass box. The needle swung back to its proper
position.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE MOUNTAIN AND MAHOMET

The eleventh of July. The little Berry house stood high on its joists
and rollers, in the middle of the Hill Boulevard, directly opposite
the Edwards lot. Close behind it loomed the big "Colonial." Another
twenty-four hours, and, even at its one-horse gait, the depot master's
dwelling would be beyond the strip of Edwards fence. The "Colonial"
would be ready to move on the lot, and Olive Edwards, the widow, would
be obliged to leave her home. In fact, Mr. Williams had notified
her that she and her few belongings must be off the premises by the
afternoon of the twelfth.

The great Williams was in high good-humor. He chuckled as he talked with
his foreman, and the foreman chuckled in return. Simeon Phinney did
not chuckle. He was anxious and worried, and even the news of Gertie
Higgins's runaway marriage, brought to him by Obed Gott, who--having
been so recently the victim of another unexpected matrimonial
alliance--was wickedly happy over the postmaster's discomfiture, did not
interest him greatly.

"Well, I wonder who'll be the next couple," speculated Ob