"Issy" sprang from his settee and jammed the paper novel into his
pocket. Ed Crocker's sunburned face turned redder yet. Sim Phinney
grinned at Mr. Rowe, who was very much embarrassed.

"Er--er--evenin', Cap'n Sol," he stammered. "Nice, seasonable weather,
ain't it? Been a nice day."

"Um," grunted the depot master, knocking the ashes from his cigar.

"Just right for workin' outdoor," continued Cornelius.

"I guess it must be. I saw your wife rakin' the yard this mornin'."

Phinney doubled up with a chuckle. Mr. Rowe swallowed hard. "I--I TOLD
her I'd rake it myself soon's I got time," he sputtered.

"Um. Well, I s'pose she realized your time was precious. Evenin', Sim,
glad to see you."

He held out his hand and Phinney grasped it.

"Issy," said Captain Sol, "you'd better get busy with the broom, hadn't
you. It's standin' over in that corner and I wouldn't wonder if it
needed exercise. Sim, the train ain't due for twenty minutes yet. That
gives us at least three quarters of an hour afore it gets here. Come
outside a spell. I want to talk to you."

He led the way to the platform, around the corner of the station, and
seated himself on the baggage truck. That side of the building, being