MARY-'GUSTA

By Joseph C. Lincoln

MARY-'GUSTA

CHAPTER I

On the twentieth day of April in the year 19--, the people--that is, amajority of the grown people of Ostable--were talking of Marcellus Halland Mary-'Gusta. 

A part of this statement is not surprising. The average person, nomatter how humble or obscure, is pretty certain to be talked about onthe day of his funeral, and Marcellus was to be buried that afternoon. Moreover, Marcellus had been neither humble nor obscure; also, he hadbeen talked about a good deal during the fifty-nine years of his sojournon this planet. So it is not at all surprising that he should be talkedabout now, when that sojourn was ended. But for all Ostable--yes, and alarge part of South Harniss--to be engaged in speculation concerning thefuture of Mary-'Gusta was surprising, for, prior to Marcellus's death, very few outside of the Hall household had given her or her future athought. 

On this day, however, whenever or wherever the name of Marcellus Hallwas mentioned, after the disposition of Marcellus's own bones had beendiscussed and those of his family skeleton disinterred and articulated, the conversation, in at least eight cases out of ten, resolved itselfinto a guessing contest, having as its problem this query:

"What's goin' to become of that child?"

For example:

Mr. Bethuel Sparrow, local newsgatherer for the Ostable Enterprise, seated before his desk in the editorial sanctum, was writing an obituaryfor next week's paper, under the following head:

"A Prominent Citizen Passes Away. "

An ordinary man would probably have written "Dies"; but Mr. Sparrow, being a young and very new reporter for a rural weekly, wrote "PassesAway" as more elegant and less shocking to the reader. 

It is much more soothing and refined to pass away than to die--unlessone happens to be the person most concerned, in which case, perhaps, itmay make little difference. 

"The Angel of Death, " wrote Mr. Sparrow, "passed through our midst onTuesday last and called to his reward Captain Marcellus Hall, one ofOstable's most well-known and influential residents. "

A slight exaggeration here. Marcellus had lived in Ostable but fiveyears altogether and, during the last three, had taken absolutelyno part in town affairs--political, religious or social. However, "influential" is a good word and usual in obituaries, so Bethuel let itstand. He continued:

"Captain Hall's sudden death--"

Erasure of "death" and substitution of "demise. "

Then:

"--Was a shock to the community at large. It happened on account of--"More erasures and substitutions. "--It was the result of his taking coldowing to exposure during the heavy southeast rains of week before lastwhich developed into pneumonia. He grew rapidly worse and passed away at3. 06 P. M. On Tuesday, leaving a vacancy in our midst which will be hardto fill, if at all. Although Captain Hall had resided in Ostable but acomparatively short period, he was well-known and respected, both as aman and--"

Here, invention failing, Mr. Sparrow called for assistance. 

"Hey, Perce, " he hailed, addressing his companion, Mr. Percy Clark, whowas busy setting type: "What's a good word to use here? I say Marcelluswas respected both as a man--and somethin' else. "

"Hey?" queried Percy, absently, scanning the eight point case. "Whatd'ye say?"

"I asked you what would be a good thing to go with 'man'?"

"Hey? I don't know. Woman, I guess. "

"Aw, cut it out. Never mind, I got it:

"--As a man and a citizen. Captain Hall was fifty-nine years of age atthe time of his demise. He was born in South Harniss and followed thesea until 1871, when he founded the firm of Hall and Company, which wasfor some years the leading dealer in fresh and salt fish in this sectionof the state. When the firm--

"I say, Perce! 'Twouldn't do to say Marcellus failed in business, wouldit? Might seem like hintin' at that stuff about his sister and the restof it. Might get us into trouble, eh?"

"Humph! I don't know who with. Everybody's talkin' about it, anyway. Upto the boardin' house they've been talking about mighty little else eversince he died. "

"I know, but talk's one thing and print's another. I'm goin' to leave itout. 

"When the firm went out of business in 1879, Captain Hall followed thesea again, commanding the ships Faraway, Fair Wind, and Treasure Seeker, and the bark Apollo. Later he retired from the sea and has not beenactive in the same or otherwise since. In 1894 he married Augusta BangsLathrop, widow of the late Reverend Charles Lathrop, formerly pastor ofthe Congregational Church in this town. Captain Hall had been residingin his native town, South Harniss, but after his marriage he took uphis residence in Ostable, purchasing the residence formerly owned byElnathan Phinney on Phinney's Hill, where he lived until his lamenteddemise. Mrs. Hall passed away in 1896. The sudden removal of CaptainHall from our midst leaves a stepdaughter, Mary Augusta Lathrop, agedseven. The--"

Here Mr. Sparrow's train of thought collided with the obstruction whichwas derailing many similar trains in Ostable and South Harniss. 

"I say, Perce, " he observed "what's goin' to become of that kid ofMarcellus's--his wife's, I mean? Marcellus didn't have any relations, asfar as anybody knows, and neither did his wife. Who's goin' to take careof Mary-'Gusta?"

Percy shook his head. "Don't know, " he answered. "That's what all handsare askin'. I presume likely she'll be looked after. Marcellus leftplenty of money, didn't he? And kids with money can generally findguardians. "

"Yup, I guess that's so. Still, whoever gets her will have their handsfull. She's the most old-fashioned, queerest young-one ever I saw. "

So much for Mr. Sparrow and his fellow laborer for the Enterprise. Nowto listen for a moment to Judge Baxter, who led the legal professionof Ostable; and to Mrs. Baxter who, so common report affirmed, led theJudge. The pair were upstairs in the Baxter house, dressing for thefuneral. 

"Daniel, " declared Mrs. Baxter, "it's the queerest thing I ever heardof. You say they don't know--either of them--and the child herselfdoesn't know, either. "

"That's it, Ophelia. No one knows except myself. Captain Hall read theletter to me and put it in my charge a year ago. "

"Well, I must say!"

"Yes, I know, I said it at the time, and I've been saying it to myselfever since. It doesn't mean anything; that is, it is not bindinglegally, of course. It's absolutely unbusinesslike and unpractical. Simply a letter, asking them, as old friends, to do this thing. Whetherthey will or not the Almighty only knows. "

"Well, Daniel, I must say I shouldn't have thought you, as his lawyer, would have let him do such a thing. Of course, I don't know either ofthem very well, but, from what little I've heard, I should say theyknow as much about what they would be supposed to do as--as you do abouttying a necktie. For mercy sakes let me fix it! The knot is supposed tobe under your chin, not under your ear as if you were going to be hung. "

The Judge meekly elevated the chin and his wife pulled the tie intoplace. 

"And so, " she said, "they can say yes or no just as they like. "

"Yes, it rests entirely with them. "

"And suppose they say no, what will become of the child then?"

"I can't tell you. Captain Hall seemed pretty certain they wouldn't sayno. "

"Humph! There! Now you look a little more presentable. Have you got aclean handkerchief? Well, that's an unexpected miracle; I don't know howyou happened to think of it. When are you going to speak with them aboutit?"

"Today, if they come to the funeral, as I suppose they will. "

"I shall be in a fidget until I know whether they say yes or no. Andwhichever they say I shall keep on fidgeting until I see what happensafter that. Poor little Mary-'Gusta! I wonder what WILL become of her. "

The Judge shook his head. 

Over the road between South Harniss and Ostable a buggy drawn by an agedwhite horse was moving slowly. On the buggy's seat were two men, CaptainShadrach Gould and Zoeth Hamilton. Captain Gould, big, stout, andbearded, was driving. Mr. Hamilton, small, thin, smooth-faced andwhite-haired, was beside him. Both were obviously dressed in theirSunday clothes, Captain Shadrach's blue, Mr. Hamilton's black. Each worean uncomfortably high collar and the shoes of each had been laboriouslypolished. Their faces, utterly unlike in most respects, were verysolemn. 

"Ah hum!" sighed Mr. Hamilton. 

Captain Shadrach snorted impatiently. 

"For the land sakes don't do that again, Zoeth, " he protested. "That'sthe tenth 'Ah hum' you've cast loose in a mile. I know we're bound to afuneral but there ain't no need of tollin' the bell all the way. I don'tlike it and I don't think Marcellus would neither, if he could hearyou. "

"Perhaps he can hear us, Shadrach, " suggested his companion, mildly. "Perhaps he's here with us now; who can tell?"

"Humph! Well, if he is then I KNOW he don't like it. Marcellus nevermade any fuss whatever happened, and he wouldn't make any at his ownfuneral no more than at anybody else's. That wasn't his way. Say nothin'and keep her on the course, that was Marcellus. I swan I can hardly makeit seem possible that he's gone!"

"Neither can I, Shadrach. And to think that you and me, his old partnersand lifelong chums as you might say, hadn't seen nor spoken to himfor over two years. It makes me feel bad. Bad and sort ofconscience-struck. "

"I know; so it does me, in a way. And yet it wasn't our fault, Zoeth. You know as well as I do that Marcellus didn't want to see us. We wasover to see him last and he scarcely said a word while we was there. You and me did all the talkin' and he just set and looked at us--whenhe wasn't lookin' at the floor. I never saw such a change in a man. Weasked--yes, by fire, we fairly begged him to come and stay with us fora spell, but he never did. Now it ain't no further from Ostable to SouthHarniss than it is from South Harniss to Ostable. If he'd wanted to comehe could; if he'd wanted to see us he could. We went to see him, didn't we; and WE had a store and a business to leave. He ain't had anybusiness since he give up goin' to sea. He--"

"Sshh! Shh!" interrupted Mr. Hamilton, mildly, "don't talk that way, Shadrach. Don't find fault with the dead. "

"Find fault! I ain't findin' fault. I thought as much of Marcellus Hallas any man on earth, and nobody feels worse about his bein' took thanI do. But I'm just sayin' what we both know's a fact. He didn't want tosee us; he didn't want to see nobody. Since his wife died he lived alonein that house, except for a housekeeper and that stepchild, and neverwent anywhere or had anybody come to see him if he could help it. Areg'lar hermit--that's what he was, a hermit, like Peleg Myrick downto Setuckit P'int. And when I think what he used to be, smart, lively, able, one of the best skippers and smartest business men afloat orashore, it don't seem possible a body could change so. 'Twas that womanthat done it, that woman that trapped him into gettin' married. "

"Sshh! Shh! Shadrach; she's dead, too. And, besides, I guess she was areal good woman; everybody said she was. "

"I ain't sayin' she wasn't, am I? What I say is she hadn't no businessmarryin' a man twenty years older'n she was. "

"But, " mildly, "you said she trapped him. Now we don't know--"

"Zoeth Hamilton, you know she must have trapped him. You and I agreedthat was just what she done. If she hadn't trapped him--set a reg'larseine for him and hauled him aboard like a school of mackerel--'tain'tlikely he'd have married her or anybody else, is it? I ain't marriednobody, have I? And Marcellus was years older'n I be. "

"Well, well, Shadrach!"

"No, 'tain't well; it's bad. He's gone, and--and you and me that waswith him for years and years, his very best friends on earth as youmight say, wasn't with him when he died. If it hadn't been for her he'dhave stayed in South Harniss where he belonged. Consarn women! They'reresponsible for more cussedness than the smallpox. 'When a man marrieshis trouble begins'; that's gospel, too. "

Zoeth did not answer. 

Captain Gould, after a sidelong glance at his companion, took a handfrom the reins and laid it on the Hamilton knee. 

"I'm sorry, Zoeth, " he said, contritely; "I didn't mean to--to rake upbygones; I was blowin' off steam, that's all. I'm sorry. "

"I know, Shadrach. It's all right. "

"No, 'tain't all right; it's all wrong. Somebody ought to keep a watchon me, and when they see me beginnin' to get hot, set me on the back ofthe stove or somewheres; I'm always liable to bile over and scald thewrong critter. I've done that all my life. I'm sorry, Zoeth, you know Ididn't mean--"

"I know, I know. Ah hum! Poor Marcellus! Here's the first break in theold firm, Shadrach. "

"Yup. You and me are all that's left of Hall and Company. That is--"

He stopped short just in time and roared a "Git dap" at the horse. Hehad been on the point of saying something which would have been far moredisastrous than his reference to the troubles following marriage. Zoethwas apparently not curious. To his friend's great relief he did not waitfor the sentence to be finished, nor did he ask embarrassing questions. Instead he said:

"I wonder what's goin' to become of that child, Mary Lathrop's girl. Whodo you suppose likely will take charge of her?"

"I don't know. I've been wonderin' that myself, Zoeth. "

"Kind of a cute little thing, she was, too, as I recollect her. Ipresume likely she's grown up consid'ble since. You remember how she setand looked at us that last time we was over to see Marcellus, Shadrach?"

"Remember? How she looked at ME, you mean! Shall I ever forget it? I'djust had my hair cut by that new barber, Sim Ellis, that lived here'long about then, and I told him to cut off the ends. He thought I meantthe other ends, I cal'late, for I went to sleep in the chair, same as Igenerally do, and when I woke up my head looked like the main truck ofthe old Faraway. All it needed was to have the bald place gilded. I giveyou my word that if I hadn't been born with my ears set wing and winglike a schooner runnin' afore the wind I'd have been smothered when Iput my hat on--nothin' but them ears kept it propped up off my nose. YOU remember that haircut, Zoeth. Well, all the time you and me was inMarcellus's settin'-room that stepchild of his just set and looked at myhead. Never took her eyes off it. If she'd said anything 'twouldn'thave been so bad; but she didn't--just looked. I could feel my bald spotreddenin' up till I swan to man I thought it must be breakin' out inblisters. 'Never see anybody that looked just like me, did you, Sis?' Isays to her, when I couldn't stand it any longer. 'No, sir, ' she says, solemn as an owl. She was right out and honest, I'll say that for her. That's the only time Marcellus laughed while we was inside that house. I didn't blame him much. Ho, ho! Well, he ain't laughin' now and neitherare we--or we hadn't ought to be. Neither is the child, I cal'late, poorthing. I wonder what will become of her. "

And meanwhile the child herself was vaguely, and in childish fashion, wondering that very thing. She was in the carriage room of the barnbelonging to the Hall estate--if the few acres of land and the buildingsowned by the late Marcellus may be called an estate--curled up on theback seat of the old surrey which had been used so little since thedeath of her mother, Augusta Hall, four years before. The surrey wasshrouded from top to floor with a dust cover of unbleached muslinthrough which the sunshine from the carriage room windows filtered in amysterious, softened twilight. The covered surrey was a favorite retreatof Mary-'Gusta's. She had discovered it herself--which made it doublyalluring, of course--and she seldom invited her juvenile friends toshare its curtained privacy with her. It was her playhouse, her tent, and her enchanted castle, much too sacred to be made common property. Here she came on rainy Saturdays and on many days not rainy when otherchildren, those possessing brothers or sisters, played out of doors. Sheliked to play by herself, to invent plays all her own, and these otherchildren--"normal children, " their parents called them--were muchtoo likely to laugh instead of solemnly making believe as she did. Mary-'Gusta was not a normal child; she was "that queer Lathropyoung-one"--had heard herself so described more than once. She did notlike the phrase; "queer" was not so bad--perhaps she was queer--but shehad an instinctive repugnance to being called a young-one. Birds andrabbits had young-ones and she was neither feathered nor furred. 

So very few of the neighborhood children were invited to the shadedinterior of the old surrey. Her dolls--all five of them--spent a gooddeal of time there and David, the tortoise-shell cat, came often, usually under compulsion. When David had kittens, which interestingdomestic event took place pretty frequently, he--or she--positivelyrefused to be an occupant of that surrey, growling and scratching in adecidedly ungentlemanly--or unladylike--manner. Twice Mary-'Gusta hadattempted to make David more complacent by bringing the kittens also tothe surrey, but their parent had promptly and consecutively seizedthem by the scruff of their necks and laboriously lugged them up to thehaymow again. 

Just now, however, there being no kittens, David was slumbering ina furry heap beside Mary-'Gusta at one end of the carriage seat, andRosette, the smallest of the five dolls, and Rose, the largest, weresitting bolt upright in the corner at the other end. The christening ofthe smallest and newest doll was the result of a piece of characteristicreasoning on its owner's part. She was very fond of the name Rose, thesame being the name of the heroine in "Eight Cousins, " which story Mrs. Bailey, housekeeper before last for Marcellus Hall, had read aloud tothe child. When the new doll came, at Christmas time, Mary-'Gusta wishedthat she might christen it Rose also. But there was another and muchbeloved Rose already in the family. So Mary-'Gusta reflected andobserved, and she observed that a big roll of tobacco such as herstepfather smoked was a cigar; while a little one, as smoked by EbenKeeler, the grocer's delivery clerk, was a cigarette. Therefore, the bigdoll being already Rose, the little one became Rosette. 

Mary-'Gusta was not playing with Rose and Rosette at the present time. Neither was she interested in the peaceful slumbers of David. She wasnot playing at all, but sitting, with feet crossed beneath her on theseat and hands clasped about one knee, thinking. And, although she wasthinking of her stepfather who she knew had gone away to a vague placecalled Heaven--a place variously described by Mrs. Bailey, the formerhousekeeper, and by Mrs. Susan Hobbs, the present one, and by Mr. Howes, the Sunday school superintendent--she was thinking most of herself, MaryAugusta Lathrop, who was going to a funeral that very afternoon and, after that, no one seemed to know exactly where. 

It was a beautiful April day and the doors of the carriage house andthe big door of the barn were wide open. Mary-'Gusta could hear the hensclucking and the voices of people talking. The voices were two: one wasthat of Mrs. Hobbs, the housekeeper, and the other belonged to Mr. AbnerHallett, the undertaker. Mary-'Gusta did not like Mr. Hallett's voice;she liked neither it nor its owner's manner; she described both voiceand manner to herself as "too soothy. " They gave her the shivers. 

Mr. Hallett's tone was subdued at the present time, but a trifle of theprofessional "soothiness" was lacking. He and Mrs. Hobbs were conversingbriskly enough and, although Mary-'Gusta could catch only a word or twoat intervals, she was perfectly sure they were talking about her. Shewas certain that if she were to appear at that moment in the door of thebarn they would stop talking immediately and look at her. Everybody whomshe had met during the past two days looked at her in that queer way. Itmade her feel as if she had something catching, like the measles, and asif, somehow or other, she was to blame. 

She realized dimly that she should feel very, very badly because herstepfather was dead. Mrs. Hobbs had told her that she should and seemedto regard her as queerer than ever because she had not cried. But, according to the housekeeper, Captain Hall was out of his troubles andhad gone where he would be happy for ever and ever. So it seemed to herstrange to be expected to cry on his account. He had not been happyhere in Ostable, or, at least, he had not shown his happiness in the wayother people showed theirs. To her he had been a big, bearded giant ofa man, whom she saw at infrequent intervals during the day and alwaysat night just before she went to bed. His room, with the old-fashionedsecretary against the wall, and the stuffed gull on the shelf, and thebooks in the cupboard, and the polished narwhal horn in the corner, wasto her a sort of holy of holies, a place where she was led each eveningat nine o'clock, at first by Mrs. Bailey and, later, by Mrs. Hobbs, to shake the hand of the big man who looked at her absently over hisspectacles and said good night in a voice not unkindly but expressing noparticular interest. At other times she was strictly forbidden to enterthat room. 

Occasionally, but very rarely, she had eaten Sunday dinner withMarcellus. She and the housekeeper usually ate together and Mr. Hall'smeals were served in what the child called "the smoke room, " meaning theapartment just described, which was at all times strongly scented withtobacco. The Sunday dinners were stately and formal affairs and wereprefaced by lectures by the housekeeper concerning sitting up straightand not disturbing Cap'n Hall by talking too much. On the wholeMary-'Gusta was rather glad when the meals were over. She did notdislike her stepfather; he had never been rough or unkind, but she hadalways stood in awe of him and had felt that he regarded her as a "peskynuisance, " something to be fed and then shooed out of the way, as Mrs. Hobbs regarded David, the cat. As for loving him, as other childrenseemed to love their fathers; that the girl never did. She was surehe did not love her in that way, and that he would not have welcomeddemonstrations of affection on her part. She had learned the reason, orshe thought she had: she was a STEPCHILD; that was why, and a stepchildwas almost as bad as a "changeling" in a fairy story. 

Her mother she remembered dimly and with that recollection were memoriesof days when she was loved and made much of, not only by Mother, but byCaptain Hall also. She asked Mrs. Bailey, whom she had loved and whoseleaving was the greatest grief of her life, some questions about thesememories. Mrs. Bailey had hugged her and had talked a good deal aboutCaptain Hall's being a changed man since his wife's death. "He used tobe so different, jolly and good-natured and sociable; you wouldn't knowhim now if you seen him then. When your mamma was took it just seemed towilt him right down. He was awful sick himself for a spell, and whenhe got better he was like he is today. Seems as if HE died too, asyou might say, and ain't really lived since. I'm awful sorry for Cap'nMarcellus. You must be real good to him when you grow up, Mary-'Gusta. "

And now he had gone before she had had a chance to grow up, andMary-'Gusta felt an unreasonable sense of blame. But real grief, thedreadful paralyzing realization of loss which an adult feels when a dearone dies, she did not feel. 

She was awed and a little frightened, but she did not feel like crying. Why should she?

"Mary-'Gusta! Mary-'Gusta! Where be you?"

It was Mrs. Hobbs calling. Mary-'Gusta hurriedly untwisted her legsand scrambled from beneath the dust cover of the surrey. David, whoseslumbers were disturbed, rose also, yawned and stretched. 

"Here I be, Mrs. Hobbs, " answered the girl. "I'm a-comin'. "

Mrs. Hobbs was standing in the doorway of the barn. Mary-'Gusta noticedthat she was not, as usual, garbed in gingham, but was arrayed in herbest go-to-meeting gown. 

"I'm a-comin', " said the child. 

"Comin', yes. But where on earth have you been? I've been hunting allover creation for you. I didn't suppose you'd be out here, on this dayof all others, with--with that critter, " indicating David, who appeared, blinking sleepily. 

"I must say I shouldn't think you'd be fussin' along with a cat today, "declared Mrs. Hobbs. 

"Yes'm, " said Mary-'Gusta. David yawned, apparently expressing a boredcontempt for housekeepers in general. 

"Come right along into the house, " continued Mrs. Hobbs. "It's high timeyou was gettin' ready for the funeral. "

"Ready? How?" queried Mary-'Gusta. 

"Why, changin' your clothes, of course. "

"Do folks dress up for funerals?"

"Course they do. What a question!"

"I didn't know. I--I've never had one. "

"Had one?"

"I mean I've never been to any. What do they dress up for?"

"Why--why, because they do, of course. Now don't ask any more questions, but hurry up. Where are you goin' now, for mercy sakes?"

"I was goin' back after Rose and Rosette. They ought to be dressed up, too, hadn't they?"

"The idea! Playin' dolls today! I declare I never see such a child!You're a reg'lar little--little heathen. Would you want anybody playin'dolls at your own funeral, I'd like to know?"

Mary-'Gusta thought this over. "I don't know, " she answered, afterreflection. "I guess I'd just as soon. Do they have dolls up in Heaven, Mrs. Hobbs?"

"Mercy on us! I should say not. Dolls in Heaven! The idea!"

"Nor cats either?"

"No. Don't ask such wicked questions. "

Mary-'Gusta asked no more questions of that kind, but her convictionthat Heaven--Mrs. Hobbs' Heaven--was a good place for housekeepers andgrown-ups but a poor one for children was strengthened. 

They entered the house by the kitchen door and ascended the back stairsto Mary-'Gusta's room. The shades in all the rooms were drawn and thehouse was dark and gloomy. The child would have asked the reason forthis, but at the first hint of a question Mrs. Hobbs bade her hush. 

"You mustn't talk, " she said. 

"Why mustn't I?"

"Because 'tain't the right thing to do, that's why. Now hurry up and getdressed. "

Mary-'Gusta silently wriggled out of her everyday frock, was led to thewashstand and vigorously scrubbed. Then Mrs. Hobbs combed and braidedwhat she called her "pigtails" and tied a bow of black ribbon at the endof each. 

"There!" exclaimed the lady. "You're clean for once in your life, anyhow. Now hurry up and put on them things on the bed. "

The things were Mary-'Gusta's very best shoes and dress; also a pair ofnew black stockings. 

When the dressing was finished the housekeeper stood her in the middleof the floor and walked about her on a final round of inspection. 

"There!" she said again, with a sigh of satisfaction. "Nobody can sayI ain't took all the pains with you that anybody could. Now you comedownstairs and set right where I tell you till I come. And don't you sayone single word. Not a word, no matter what happens. "

She took the girl's hand and led her down the front stairs. As theydescended Mary-'Gusta could scarcely restrain a gasp of surprise. Thefront door was open--the FRONT door--and the child had never seen itopen before, had long ago decided that it was not a truly door at all, but merely a make-believe like the painted windows on the sides of herdoll house. But now it was wide open and Mr. Hallett, arrayed in a suitof black, the coat of which puckered under the arms, was standing on thethreshold, looking more soothy than ever. The parlor door was open also, and the parlor itself--the best first parlor, more sacred and forbiddeneven than the "smoke room"--was, as much of it as she could see, filledwith chairs. 

Mrs. Hobbs led her into the little room off the parlor, the "backsettin'-room, " and, indicating the haircloth and black walnut sofaagainst the wall, whispered to her to sit right there and not move. 

"Mind now, " she whispered, "don't talk and don't stir. I'll be back byand by. "

Mary-'Gusta, left alone, looked wide-eyed about the little backsitting-room. It, too, was changed; not changed as much as the frontparlor, but changed, nevertheless. Most of the furniture had beenremoved. The most comfortable chairs, including the rocker with theparrot "tidy" on the back, had been taken away. One or two of thebolt-upright variety remained and the "music chair" was still there, butpushed back into a corner. 

Mary-'Gusta saw the music chair and a quiver of guilty fear tinged alongher spine; that particular chair had always been, to her, the bright, particular glory of the house. Not because it was beautiful, for that itdistinctly was not; but because of the marvellous secret hidden beneathits upholstered seat. Captain Marcellus had brought it home years andyears before, when he was a sea-going bachelor and made voyages toHamburg. In its normal condition it was a perfectly quiet and uglychair, but there was a catch under one arm and a music box under theseat. And if that catch were released, then when anyone sat in it, themusic box played "The Campbell's Are Coming" with spirit and jingle. And, moreover, kept on playing it to the finish unless the catch waspushed back again. 

To Mary-'Gusta that chair was a perpetual fascination. She had beenexpressly forbidden to touch it, had been shut in the dark closet morethan once for touching it; but, nevertheless, the temptation was alwaysthere and she had yielded to that temptation at intervals when Mrs. Hobbs and her stepfather were out. And the last time she had touched itshe had broken the catch. She had wound up the music box, after hearingit play, but the catch which made it a perfectly safe seat and not atrap for the unwary had refused to push back into place. And nowthere it was, loaded and primed, so to speak, and she was responsible. Suppose--Oh, horrible thought!--suppose anyone should sit in it thatafternoon!

She gasped and jumped off the sofa. Then she remembered Mrs. Hobbs'parting command and stopped, hesitating. Mr. Hallett, standing at theend of the hall, by the front door, heard her move and tiptoed to thesitting-room. 

"What's the matter, little girl?" he whispered, soothingly. 

"No-nothin', " gasped Mary-'Gusta. 

"You're sure?"

"Ye-yes, sir. "

"All right. Then you set down on the sofa and keep still. You mustn'tmake any noise. The folks are comin' now. Set right down on the sofy, that's a good girl!"

So back to the sofa went Mary-'Gusta, trembling with apprehension. Fromher seat she could see along the hall and also through the other doorinto the "big settin'-room, " where, also, there were rows of chairs. And, to her horror, these chairs began to fill. People, most of themdressed in church-going garments which rattled and rustled, weretiptoeing in and sitting down where she could see them and they couldsee her. She did not dare to move now; did not dare go near the musicchair even if going near it would have done any good. She remained uponthe sofa, and shivered. 

A few moments later Mrs. Hobbs appeared, looking very solemn andSundayfied, and sat beside her. Then Judge and Mrs. Baxter were showninto the little room and took two of the remaining chairs. The Judgebowed and smiled and Mrs. Baxter leaned over and patted her hand. Mary-'Gusta tried to smile, too, but succeeded only in looking moremiserable. Mrs. Hobbs whispered to her to sit up straight. 

There was a steady stream of people through the front door now. They allentered the parlor and many stayed there, but others passed on into the"big settin'-room. " The chairs there were almost all taken; soon allwere taken and Mr. Hallett was obliged to remove one of those in thesmall room. There were but two left empty, one a tall, straight antiquewith a rush seat, a family heirloom, and the other the music chair. Mary-'Gusta stared at the music chair and hoped and hoped. 

Mr. Sharon, the minister, entered and shook hands with the Judge andMrs. Baxter and with Mrs. Hobbs and Mary-'Gusta. He also patted thechild's hand. Mrs. Hobbs whispered to him, with evident pride, that itwas "goin' to be one of the biggest funerals ever given in Ostable. " Mr. Sharon nodded. Then, after waiting a moment or two, he tiptoed along thefront hall and took up his stand by the parlor door. There was a finalrustle of gowns, a final crackle of Sunday shirtfronts, and then ahushed silence. 

The silence was broken by the rattle of wheels in the yard. Mr. Hallettat the door held up a warning hand. A moment later he ushered two peoplein at the front door and led them through the parlor into the "bigsettin'-room. " Mary-'Gusta could see the late comers plainly. They wereboth men, one big and red-faced and bearded, the other small, and thin, and white-haired. A rustle passed through the crowd and everyone turnedto look. Some looked as if they recognized the pair, but they did notbow; evidently it was not proper to bow at funerals. 

Mr. Hallett, on tiptoe, of course, glided into the little room fromthe big one and looked about him. Then, to the absolute stupefactionof Mary-'Gusta, he took the rush-seated chair in one hand and the musicchair in the other and tiptoed out. He placed the two chairs in the backrow close to the door of the smaller room and motioned to the two men tosit. 

Mary-'Gusta could stand it no longer. She was afraid of Mrs. Hobbs, afraid of Mr. Hallett, afraid of the Baxters and all the staring crowd;but she was more afraid of what was going to happen. She tugged at thehousekeeper's sleeve. 

"Mrs. Hobbs!" she whispered, quiveringly. "Oh, Mrs. Hobbs!"

Mrs. Hobbs shook off the clutch at her sleeve. 

"Sshh!" she whispered. "Sshh!"

"But--but please, Mrs. Hobbs--"

"Sshh! You mustn't talk. Be still. Be still, I tell you. "

The small, white-haired man sat down in the rush-seated chair. The bigman hesitated, separated his coat tails, and then he, too, sat down. 

And the music box under the seat of the chair he sat in informedeveryone with cheerful vigor that the Campbells were coming, Hurrah!Hurrah!

Captain Shadrach Gould arose from that chair, arose promptly and withouthesitation. Mr. Zoeth Hamilton also rose; so did many others in thevicinity. There was a stir and a rustle and whispered exclamations. And still the news of the imminent arrival of the Campbells was tinkledabroad and continued to tinkle. Someone giggled, so did someone else. Others said, "Hush!"

Mrs. Judge Baxter said, "Heavens and earth!"

Mrs. Hobbs looked as if she wished to say something very much indeed. 

Captain Shadrach's bald spot blazed a fiery red and he glared about himhelplessly. 

Mr. Hallett, who was used to unexpected happenings at funerals--though, to do him justice, he had never before had to deal with anything quitelike this--rushed to the center of the disturbance. Mrs. Hobbshastened to help. Together and with whisperings, they fidgeted withthe refractory catch. And still the music box played--and played--andplayed. 

At last Mr. Hallett gave it up. He seized the chair and with it in hisarms rushed out into the dining-room. Captain Shadrach Gould mopped hisface with a handkerchief and stood, because there was nowhere for himto sit. Mrs. Hobbs, almost as red in the face as Captain Shad himself, hastened back and collapsed upon the sofa. Mr. Sharon cleared histhroat. 

And still, from behind the closed door of the dining-room the musicchair tinkled on:

"The Campbells are coming! Hurrah! Hurrah!" Poor little guilty, frightened Mary-'Gusta covered her face with her hands. 

CHAPTER II

"And now, gentlemen, " said Judge Baxter, "here we are. Sit down and makeyourselves comfortable. I shall have a good deal to say and I expect tosurprise you. Sit down. "

Captain Gould and Mr. Hamilton were in the Judge's library at his home. The funeral was over, all that was mortal of Marcellus Hall had beenlaid to rest in the Ostable cemetery, and his two friends and formerpartners had, on their return from that cemetery, stopped at theJudge's, at the latter's request. He wished, so he said, to speak withthem on an important matter. 

"Why don't you sit down, Captain?" asked the Judge, noticing that, although Zoeth had seated himself in the rocker which his host hadindicated, Shadrach was still standing. 

Captain Shadrach laid a hand on the back of the armchair and regardedthe lawyer with a very grave face, but with a twinkle in his eye. 

"To tell you the truth, Judge, " he said, slowly, "I don't cal'late Iever shall set down again quite so whole-hearted as I used to. You spokeof a surprise, didn't you? I've had one surprise this afternoon that'sliable to stay with me for a spell. I'm an unsuspectin' critter, generally speakin', but after that--Say, you ain't got a brass band norfireworks hitched to THIS chair, have you?"

Judge Baxter laughed heartily. "No, " he said, as soon as he could speak. "No, Captain, my furniture isn't loaded. "

The Captain shook his head. "Whew!" he whistled, sitting down gingerlyin the armchair. "Well, that's a mercy. I ain't so young as I used to beand I couldn't stand many such shocks. Whew! Don't talk to ME! When thatdevilish jig tune started up underneath me I'll bet I hopped up threefoot straight. I may be kind of slow sittin' down, but you'll bear meout that I can GET UP sudden when it's necessary. And I thought the dumthing never would STOP. "

Mr. Hamilton stirred uneasily. "Hush, hush, Shadrach!" he pleaded. "Don't be so profane. Remember you've just come from the graveyard. "

"Come from it! By fire! There was a time there when I'd have beenwillin' to go to it--yes, and stay. All I wanted was to get out of thatroom and hide somewheres where folks couldn't look at me. I give you myword I could feel myself heatin' up like an airtight stove. Good thing Ididn't have on a celluloid collar or 'twould have bust into a blaze. Ofall the dummed outrages to spring on a man, that--"

"Shadrach!"

"There, there, Zoeth! I'll calm down. But as for swearin'--well, ifyou knew how full of cusswords I was there one spell you wouldn'tfind fault; you'd thank me for holdin' 'em in. I had to batten down myhatches to do it, though; I tell you that. "

Mr. Hamilton turned to their host. "You'll excuse Shadrach, won't you, Judge, " he said, apologetically. "He don't mean nothin' wicked, really. And he feels as bad as I do about Marcellus's bein' took. "

"Course I do!" put in the Captain. "Zoeth's always scared to death forfear I'm bound to the everlastin' brimstone. He forgets I've been to seaa good part of my life and that a feller has to talk strong aboard ship. Common language may do for keepin' store, but it don't get a vesselnowheres; the salt sort of takes the tang out of it, seems so. I'mthrough for the present, Zoeth. I'll keep the rest till I meet the swabthat loaded up that chair for me. "

The Judge laughed again. Then he opened his desk and took from a drawertwo folded papers. 

"Gentlemen, " he said, gravely, "I asked you to come here with me becausethere is an important matter, a very important matter, which I, asCaptain Hall's legal adviser, must discuss with you. "

Captain Shadrach and Zoeth looked at each other. The former tugged athis beard. 

"Hum!" he mused. "Somethin' to do with Marcellus's affairs, is it?"

"Yes. "

"Want to know! And somethin' to do with me and Zoeth?"

"Yes, with both of you. This, " holding up one of the folded papers, "isCaptain Hall's will. I drew it for him a year ago and he has appointedme his executor. "

Zoeth nodded. "We supposed likely he would, " he observed. 

"Couldn't get a better man, " added Shadrach, with emphasis. 

"Thank you. Captain Hall leaves all he possessed--practically all; thereis a matter of two hundred dollars for his housekeeper, Mrs. Hobbs, anda few other personal gifts--but he leaves practically all he possessedto his stepdaughter, Mary Lathrop. "

Both his hearers nodded again. "We expected that, naturally, " said theCaptain. "It's what he'd ought to have done, of course. Well, she'll bepretty well fixed, won't she?"

Judge Baxter shook his head. "Why, no--she won't, " he said, soberly. "That is a part of the surprise which I mentioned at first. Captain Hallwas, practically, a poor man when he died. "

That the prophesied surprise was now a reality was manifest. Both menlooked aghast. 

"You--you don't mean that, Judge?" gasped Zoeth. 

"Poor? Marcellus poor?" cried Shadrach. "Why--why, what kind of talk'sthat? He didn't have no more than the rest of us when--" he hesitated, glanced at Zoeth, and continued, "when the firm give up business back in'79; but he went to sea again and made considerable, and then he made awhole lot in stocks. I know he did. You know it, too, Zoeth. How couldhe be poor?"

"Because, like so many other fortunate speculators, he continued tospeculate and became unfortunate. He lost the bulk of his winnings inthe stock market and--well, to be quite frank, Captain Hall has been abroken man, mentally as well as physically, since his wife's death andhis own serious illness. You, yourselves, must have noticed the changein his habits. From being an active man, a man of affairs, he becamealmost a hermit. He saw but few people, dropped the society of all hisold friends, and lived alone--alone except for his various housekeepersand Mary-'Gusta--the little girl, I mean. You must have noticed thechange in his relations with you. "

Mr. Hamilton sighed. "Yes, " he said, "we noticed he never came to see usand--and--"

"And wasn't over'n above sociable when we come to see him, " finishedCaptain Shadrach. "Yes, we noticed that. But I say, Judge, he must havehad SOME money left. What became of it?"

"Goodness knows! He was a child, so far as money matters went, in hislater years. Very likely he frittered it away in more stock ventures; Iknow he bought a lot of good for nothing mining shares. At any rate ithas gone, all except a few thousands. The house and land where he livedis mortgaged up to the handle, and I imagine there are debts, a goodmany of them. But whatever there is is left to Mary-'Gusta--everyonecalls her that and I seem to have caught the habit. It is left toher--in trust. "

Captain Shadrach thought this over. "In trust with you, I presumelikely, " he observed. "Well, as I said afore, he couldn't have found abetter man. "

"HE thought he could, two better men. I rather think he was right. Youare the two, gentlemen. "

This statement did not have the effect which the Judge expected. Heexpected exclamations and protests. Instead his visitors looked at eachother and at him in a puzzled fashion. 

"Er--er--what was that?" queried Mr. Hamilton. "I didn't exactly seem tocatch that, somehow or 'nother. "

Judge Baxter turned to the Captain. 

"You understood me, didn't you, Captain Gould?" he asked. 

Shadrach shook his head. 

"Why--why, no, " he stammered; "it didn't seem to soak in, somehow. Cal'late my head must have stopped goin'; maybe the shock I had a spellago broke the mainspring. All I seem to be real sartin of just now isthat the Campbells are comin'. What was it you said?"

"I said that Captain Marcellus Hall has left whatever property he owned, after his creditors are satisfied, to his stepdaughter. He has left itin trust until she becomes of age. And he asks you two to accept thattrust and the care of the child. Is that plain?"

It was plain and they understood. But with understanding came, apparently, a species of paralysis of the vocal organs. Zoeth turnedpale and leaned back in his chair. Shadrach's mouth opened and closedseveral times, but he said nothing. 

"Of course, " went on Baxter, "before I say any more I think you shouldbe told this: It was Captain Hall's wish that you jointly accept theguardianship of Mary-'Gusta--of the girl--that she live with you andthat you use whatever money comes to her from her stepfather's estatein educating and clothing her. Also, of course, that a certain sum eachweek be paid you from that estate as her board. That was Marcellus'swish; but it is a wish, nothing more. It is not binding upon you in anyway. You have a perfect right to decline and--"

Captain Shadrach interrupted. 

"Heave to!" he ordered, breathlessly. "Come up into the wind a minute, for mercy sakes! Do you mean to say that me and Zoeth are asked totake that young-one home with us, and take care of her, and dress her, and--and eat her, and bring her up and--and--"

He paused, incoherent in his excitement. The Judge nodded. 

"Yes, " he replied, "that is what he asks you to do. But, as I say, youare not obliged to do it; there is no legal obligation. You can say no, if you think it best. "

"If we think--for thunder sakes, Baxter, what was the matter withMarcellus? Was he out of his head? Was he loony?"

"No, he was perfectly sane. "

"Then--then, what--Zoeth, " turning wildly to Mr. Hamilton, who stillsat, pale and speechless, in his chair; "Zoeth, " he demanded, "did youever hear such craziness in your life? Did you ever HEAR such stuff?"

Zoeth merely shook his head. His silence appeared to add to his friend'sexcitement. 

"Did you?" he roared. 

Zoeth muttered something to the effect that he didn't know as he everdid. 

"You don't know! Yes, you do know, too. Speak up, why don't you? Don'tsit there like a ship's figgerhead, starin' at nothin'. You know it'scraziness as well's I do. For God sakes, say somethin'! TALK!"

Mr. Hamilton talked--to this extent:

"Hush, Shadrach, " he faltered. "Don't be profane. "

"Profane! Pup-pup-profane! You set there and--and--Oh, jumpin', creepin'Judas! I--I--" Language--even his language--failed to express hisfeelings and he waved his fists and sputtered. Baxter seized theopportunity. 

"Before you make your decision, gentlemen, " he said, "I hope you willconsider the situation carefully. The girl is only seven years old; shehas no relations anywhere, so far as we know. If you decline the trusta guardian will have to be appointed by the courts, I suppose. Who thatguardian will be, or what will become of the poor child I'm sure I don'tknow. And Captain Marcellus was perfectly sane; he knew what he wasdoing. "

Shadrach interrupted. 

"He did!" he shouted. "Well, then, I must say--"

"Just a minute, please, I have a letter here which he wrote at the timehe made his will. It is addressed to both of you. Here it is. Shall Iread it to you, or had you rather read it yourselves?"

Zoeth answered. "I guess maybe you'd better read it, Judge, " he said. "Idon't cal'late Shadrach nor me are capable of readin' much of anythingjust this minute. You read it. Shadrach, you be still now and listen. "

The Captain opened his mouth and raised a hand. "Be still, Shadrach, "repeated Zoeth. The hand fell. Captain Gould sighed. 

"All right, Zoeth, " he said. "I'll keep my batch closed long's I can. Heave ahead, Judge. "

The letter was a long one, covering several sheets of foolscap. Itbegan:

To Shadrach, Gould and Zoeth Hamilton, my old partners and friends. 

DEAR SHAD AND ZOETH:

I am writing this to you because I have known you pretty much all mylife and you are the only real friends I have got in this world. 

"I was his friend, or I tried to be, " commented Baxter, interruptinghis reading; "but he considered you two, and always spoke of you, as hisoldest and nearest friends. He has often told me that he knew he coulddepend on you. Now listen. "

The letter went on to state that the writer realized his health wasno longer good, that he was likely to die at any time and was quitereconciled. 

I should be glad to go [Captain Hall had written], if it was not for onething. Since my wife was took from me I care precious little for lifeand the sooner it ends the better. That is the way I look at it. But Ihave a stepdaughter, Mary Augusta Lathrop, and for her sake I must stickto the ship as long as I can. I have not been the right kind of fatherto her. I have tried, but I don't seem to know how and I guess likelyI was too old to learn. When I go she won't have a relation to look outfor her. That has troubled me a lot and I have thought about it morethan a little, I can tell you. And so I have decided to leave her inyour care. I am hoping you will take charge of her and bring her up tobe a good girl and a good woman, same as her mother was before her. Iknow you two will be just the ones for the job. 

"Jumpin' fire!" broke in Shadrach, the irrepressible. 

"Hush, Shadrach, " continued Mr. Hamilton. "Go on, Judge. "

Baxter continued his reading. The letter told of the will, of theproperty, whatever it might be, left in trust for the child, and of thewriter's desire that it might be used, when turned into money, for hereducation. There were two pages of rambling references to stocksand investments, the very vagueness of these references proving theweakening shrewdness and lack of business acumen of Captain Hall in hislater years. Then came this:

When this first comes to you I know you will both feel you are notfitted to take charge of my girl. You will say that neither of you hashad any children of his own and you have not got experience in thatline. But I have thought it over and I know I am right. I couldn't findbetter pilots afloat or ashore. Shadrach has been to sea and commandedvessels and is used to giving orders and having them carried out. Hesailed mate with me for a good many voyages and was my partner ashore. Iknow him from truck to keelson. He is honest and able and can handleany craft. He will keep the girl on the course she ought to sail inher schooling and such and see she does not get on the rocks or take tocruising in bad company. Zoeth has had the land training. He is a piousman and as good outside the church as he is in, which is not always thecase according to my experience. He has the name all up and down theCape of being a square, honest storekeeper. He will look out for Mary'sreligious bringing up and learn her how to keep straight and thinksquare. You are both of you different from each other in most ways butyou are each of you honest and straight in his own way. I don't leaveMary in the care of one but in the charge of both. I know I am right. 

"He said that very thing to me a good many times, " put in the Judge. "He seemed to feel that the very fact of your being men of differenttraining and habits of thought made the combination ideal. Betweenyou, so he seemed to think, the girl could not help but grow up as sheshould. I am almost through; there is a little more. "

I want you fellows to do this for my sake. I know you will, after youhave thought it over. You and I have been through good times and badtogether. We have made money and we have seen it go faster than it came. Shad has seen his savings taken away from him, partly because I trustedwhere he did not, and he never spoke a word of complaint nor found amite of fault. Zoeth has borne my greatest trouble with me and thoughhis share was far away bigger than mine, he kept me from breaking underit. I have not seen as much of you lately as I used to see, but thatwas my fault. Not my fault exactly, maybe, but my misfortune. I have notbeen the man I was and seeing you made me realize it. That is why I havenot been to South Harniss and why I acted so queer when you came here. Iwas sort of ashamed, I guess. You remember when the old Hall and Companyfirm started business there were four of us who agreed to stick by eachother through foul weather and fair till we died. One of that four brokehis promise and pretty nigh wrecked us all, as he did wreck the firm. Now I am asking you two to stick by me and mine. I am trusting andbelieving that you are going to do it as I write this. When you read itI shan't be on hand. But, if I am where I can see and hear I shall stillbe believing you will do this last favor for your old messmate. 

MARCELLUS. 

Judge Baxter folded the sheets of foolscap and laid them on the table. Then he took off his spectacles and wiped them with his handkerchief. 

"Well, gentlemen?" he said, after a moment. 

Captain Gould drew a long breath. 

"I don't think it's well, " he observed. "I think it's about as sick asit can be, and I cal'late Zoeth feels the same; eh, Zoeth?"

Mr. Hamilton did not answer. He neither spoke nor moved. 

"Of course, " said the lawyer, "it is not necessary that you make upyour minds this instant. You will probably wish a few days to think thematter over in and then you can let me know what you decide. You haveheard the letter and I have explained the situation. Are there anyquestions you would like to ask?"

Shadrach shook his head. 

"No, not far's I'm concerned, " he said. "My mind is made up now. I didthink there wasn't anything I wouldn't do for Marcellus. And I wouldhave done anything in reason. But this ain't reason--it's what Icalled it in the beginnin', craziness. Me and Zoeth can't go crazy foranybody. "

"Then you decline?"

"Yes, sir; I'm mighty sorry but of course we can't do such a thing. Meand Zoeth, one of us a bach all his life, and t'other one a--a widowerfor twenty years, for us to take a child to bring up! My soul and body!Havin' hung on to the heft of our senses so far, course we decline! Wecan't do nothin' else. "

"And you, Mr. Hamilton?"

Zoeth appeared to hesitate. Then he asked:

"What sort of a girl is she?"

"Mary-'Gusta? She's a bright child, and a well-behaved one, generallyspeaking. Rather old for her years, and a little--well, peculiar. Thatisn't strange, considering the life she has led since her mother'sdeath. But she is a good girl and a pretty little thing. I like her; sodoes my wife. "

"That was her at the cemetery, wasn't it? She was with that Hobbswoman?"

"Yes. "

"I thought so. Shadrach and I met her when we was over here two yearsago. I thought the one at the graveyard was her. Poor little critter!Where is she now; at the house--at Marcellus's?"

"Yes; that is, I suppose she is. "

"Do you--do you cal'late we could see her if we went there now?"

"Yes, I am sure you could. "

Zoeth rose. 

"Come on, Shadrach, " he said, "let's go. "

The Captain stared at him. 

"Go?" he repeated. "Where? Home, do you mean?"

"No, not yet. I mean over to Marcellus's to see that little girl. "

"Zoeth Hamilton! Do you mean to tell me--What do you want to see herfor? Do you want to make it harder for her and for us and for all hands?What good is seein' her goin' to do? Ain't it twice as easy to say nonow and be done with it?"

"I suppose likely 'twould be, but it wouldn't be right Marcellus askedus to do this thing for him and--"

"Jumpin' Judas! ASKED us! Do you mean to say you're thinkin' of doin'what he asked? Are you loony, too? Are you--"

"Shh, Shadrach! He asked us, as a last favor, to take charge of hisgirl. I feel as you do that we can't do it, 'tain't sensible norpossible for us to do it, but--"

"There ain't any buts. "

"But the very least we can do is go and see her and talk to her. "

"What for? So we'll feel meaner and more sneaky when we HAVE to say no?I shan't go to see her. "

"All right. Then I shall. You can wait here for me till I come back. "

"Hold on, Zoeth! Hold on! Don't--"

But Mr. Hamilton was at the door and did not turn back. Judge Baxter, who was following him, spoke. 

"Sit right here, Captain, " he said. "Make yourself as comfortable as youcan. We shan't be long. "

For an instant Shadrach remained where he was. Then he, too, sprang tohis feet. He overtook the lawyer just as the latter reached the sidedoor. 

"Hello, Captain, " exclaimed Baxter, "changed your mind?"

"Changed nothin'. Zoeth's makin' a fool of himself and I know it, but heain't goin' to be a fool ALL by himself. I've seen him try it afore and'tain't safe. "

"What do you mean?"

The Captain grunted scornfully. 

"I mean there's safety in numbers, whether it's the number of fools oranything else, " he said. "One idiot's a risky proposition, but twoor three in a bunch can watch each other. Come on, Judge, and be thethird. "

CHAPTER III

The white house on Phinney's Hill looked desolate and mournful whenthe buggy containing Judge Baxter and his two companions drove into theyard. The wagon belonging to Mr. Hallett, the undertaker, was at thefront door, and Hallett and his assistant were loading in the foldingchairs. Mr. Hallett was whistling a popular melody, but, somehow orother, the music only emphasized the lonesomeness. There is little cheerin an undertaker's whistle. 

Captain Gould, acting under the Judge's orders, piloted his horse up thedriveway and into the back yard. The animal was made fast to the backfence and the three men alighted from the buggy and walked up to theside door of the house. 

"Say, Judge, " whispered the Captain, as they halted by the step, "youdon't cal'late I can find out who loaded up that music-box chair on me, do you? If I could meet that feller for two or three minutes I mightfeel more reconciled at bein' fool enough to come over here. "

Mrs. Hobbs answered the knock at the door--she invited them in. Whentold that they had come to see Mary-'Gusta she sniffed. 

"She's in her room, " she said, rather sharply. "She hadn't ought to belet out, but of course if you want to see her, Judge Baxter, I presumelikely she'll have to be. I'll go fetch her. "

"Wait a minute, Mrs. Hobbs, " said Baxter. "What's the matter? Has thechild been behaving badly?"

Mrs. Hobbs' lean fingers clinched. "Behavin' badly!" she repeated. "Ishould say she had! I never was so mortified in my life. And at her ownfather's funeral, too!"

"What has she done?"

"Done? She--" Mrs. Hobbs hesitated, glanced at Captain Shadrach, andleft her sentence unfinished. "Never mind what she done, " she went on. "I can't tell you now; I declare I'd be ashamed to. I'll go get her. "

She marched from the room. Zoeth rubbed his forehead. 

"She seems sort of put out, don't she, " he observed, mildly. 

Baxter nodded. "Susan Hobbs has the reputation of getting 'put out'pretty often, " he said. "She has a temper and it isn't a long one. "

"Has she been takin' care of Marcellus's girl?" asked Zoeth. 

"Yes. As much care as the child has had. "

Captain Shad snorted. It was evident that the housekeeper's manner hadnot impressed him favorably. 

"Humph!" he said. "I'd hate to have her take care of me, judgin' by theway she looked just now. Say, " hopefully, "do you suppose SHE was theone fixed that chair?"

They heard Mrs. Hobbs on the floor above, shouting:

"Mary-'Gusta! Mary-'Gusta! Where are you? Answer me this minute!"

"Don't seem to be in that room she was talkin' about, " grumbledShadrach. "Tut! Tut! What a voice that is! Got a rasp to it like a rustysaw. "

Mrs. Hobbs was heard descending the stairs. Her face, when she reenteredthe sitting-room, was red and she looked more "put out" than ever. 

"She ain't there, " she answered, angrily. "She's gone. "

"Gone?" repeated Zoeth and Shadrach in chorus. 

"Gone?" repeated the Judge. "Do you mean she's run away?"

"No, no! She ain't run away--not for good; she knows better than that. She's sneaked off and hid, I suppose. But I know where she is. I'll haveher here in a minute. "

She was hurrying out again, but the Captain detained her. 

"Wait!" he commanded. "What's that you say? You know where she is?"

"Yes, or I can guess. Nine chances to one she's out in that barn. "

"In the barn? What's she doin' there--playin' horse?"

"No, no. She's hidin' in the carriage room. Seems as if the child waspossessed to get out in that dusty place and perch herself in the oldcarryall. She calls it her playhouse and you'd think 'twas Heaven theway she loves to stay there. But today of all days! And with her bestclothes on! And after I expressly told her--"

"Yes, yes; all right. Humph! Well, Zoeth, what do you say? Shall wego to Heaven and hunt for her? Maybe 'twill be the only chance some ofus'll get, you can't tell, " with a wink at Baxter. 

"Hush, Shadrach! How you do talk!" protested the shocked Mr. Hamilton. 

"Let's go out to the barn and find the young-one ourselves, " said theCaptain. "Seems the simplest thing to do, don't it?"

Mrs. Hobbs interrupted. 

"You don't need to go at all, " she declared. "I'll get her and bring herhere. Perhaps she ain't there, anyway. "

"Well, if she ain't there we can come back again. Come on, boys. "

He led the way to the door. The housekeeper would have accompanied them, but he prevented her doing so. 

"Don't you trouble yourself, ma'am, " he said. "We'll find her. I'molder'n I used to be, but I ain't so blind but what I can locate a barnwithout a spyglass. "

"It won't be any trouble, " protested the lady. 

"I know, but it might be. We'll go alone. "

When the three were in the back yard, and the discomfited housekeeperwas watching them from the door, he added:

"I don't know why that woman rubs my fur the wrong way, but she does. Isaiah Chase says he don't like mosquitoes 'cause they get on hisnerves. I never thought I wore my nerves on the back of my neck, whichis where Isaiah gets skeeter-bit mostly, but anyhow, wherever they be, that Hobbs woman bothers 'em. There's the barn, ain't it? Don't lookvery heavenly, but it may seem that way after a spell in t'other place. Now where's the carriage room?"

The door of the carriage room was open, and they entered. A buggy andthe muslin draped surrey were there, but no living creature was insight. They listened, but heard nothing. 

"Mary! Mary-'Gusta!" called Baxter. "Are you here?"

No answer. And then, from beneath the cover of the surrey, appeareda fat tortoise-shell cat, who jumped lightly to the floor, yawned, stretched, and blinked suspiciously at the visitors. 

"Humph!" grunted Captain Shadrach. "There's one stowaway, anyhow. Maybethere's another; I've had 'em come aboard in pairs. "

The Judge walked over to the surrey, and raised the cover. From behindit came a frightened little squeal. 

"Oh, there you are!" said Baxter. "Mary-'Gusta, is that you?"

There was a rustle, a sob, and then a timid voice said, chokingly, "Yes, sir. "

"Come out, " said the Judge, kindly. "Come out; here are some friends whowant to meet you. "

Another sob and then: "I--I don't want to. "

"Oh, yes, you do. We won't hurt you. We only want to see you and talkwith you, that's all. Come, that's a good girl. "

"I--I ain't a good girl. "

"Never mind. We want to see you, anyway. I guess you're not very bad. "

"Yes, I--I am. Is--is Mrs. Hobbs there?"

"No. Come now, please. "

A moment's wait, then, from beneath the cover, appeared a small footand leg, the latter covered by a black stocking. The foot wiggledabout, feeling for the step. It found it, the cover was thrown aside andMary-'Gusta appeared, a pathetic little figure, with rumpled hair andtear-stained cheeks. Rose and Rosette, the two dolls, were hugged in herarms. 

Judge Baxter patted her on the head. Zoeth and Shadrach looked solemnand ill at ease. Mary-'Gusta looked at the floor and sniffed dolefully. 

"Mary-'Gusta, " said the Judge, "these two gentlemen are old friends ofyour father's and, " with a pardonable stretching of the truth, "theyhave come all the way from South Harniss to meet you. Now you must shakehands with them. They like little girls. "

Mary-'Gusta obediently moved forward, shifted Rosette to the armclasping Rose, and extended a hand. Slowly she raised her eyes, saw Mr. Hamilton's mild, gentle face and then, beside it, the face of CaptainShadrach Gould. With a cry she dropped both dolls, ran back to thesurrey and fumbled frantically with the dust cover. 

Baxter, surprised and puzzled, ran after her and prevented her climbinginto the carriage. 

"Why, Mary-'Gusta, " he demanded, "what is the matter?"

The child struggled and then, bursting into a storm of sobs, hid herface in the dust cover. 

"I--I didn't mean to, " she sobbed, wildly. "I didn't mean to. HonestI didn't. I--I didn't know. I didn't mean to. Please don't let him. PLEASE!"

The Judge held her close and did his best to calm her. 

"There, there, child, " he said. "No one's going to hurt you. "

"Yes--yes, they are. Mrs. Hobbs said she shouldn't wonder if he knockedmy--my head right off. "

"Knocked your head off! Who?"

"Him. "

She raised her hand and pointed a shaking finger straight at CaptainShadrach. 

All three of her hearers were surprised, of course, but in the case ofthe Captain himself amazement was coupled with righteous indignation. 

"Wha-what?" he stammered. "Who said so? What kind of talk's that? Said Iwas goin' to knock your head off? I was?"

Baxter laughed. "No, no, Mary-'Gusta, " he said; "you're mistaken. Mrs. Hobbs couldn't have said any such thing. You're mistaken, dear. "

"No, I ain't, " with another sob; "she did say so. She said he wouldknock my head--ah--ah--off and--and put me in jail, too. And I didn'tmean to do it; honest, truly I didn't. "

The Judge looked at his companions and shook his head as if theconundrum was beyond his guessing. Captain Shad groaned. 

"By fire!" he ejaculated. "All hands have gone loony, young-ones andall. And, " with conviction, "I'm on the road myself. "

Zoeth Hamilton stepped forward and held out his hands. 

"Come here, dearie, " he said, gently; "come here and tell me all aboutit. Neither me nor the Cap'n's goin' to hurt you a mite. We like littlegirls, both of us do. Now you come and tell me about it. "

Mary-'Gusta's sobs ceased. She looked at the speaker doubtfully. 

"Come, don't be scared, " begged Zoeth. "We're goin' to be good friendsto you. We knew your father and he thought everything of us. You ain'tgoin' to be afraid of folks that was your Pa's chums. You come here andlet's talk it over. "

Slowly Mary-'Gusta crossed the room. Zoeth sat down upon an empty boxnear the door and lifted the girl to his knee. 

"Now you ain't afraid of me, be you?" he asked quietly. 

Mary-'Gusta shook her head, but her big eyes were fixed upon CaptainShadrach's face. 

"No-o, " she faltered. "I--I guess I ain't. But you wasn't the one I didit to. It was him. "

Judging by the Captain's expression his conviction that all hands, himself included, had lost their reason was momentarily growing firmer. 

"ME?" he gasped. "You done somethin' to me and I--well, by Judas, thisis--"

"Hush, Shadrach! What was it you done, Mary, that made you afraid ofCap'n Gould? Tell me. I won't hurt you and I won't let anybody else. "

"YOU won't let--Zoeth Hamilton, I swan, I--"

"Be still, Shadrach, for mercy sakes! Now, what was it, dearie?"

Mary-'Gusta hesitated. Then she buried her face in Mr. Hamilton's jacketand sobbed a confession. 

"I--I made it go, " she cried. "I--I broke the--the catch--and it waswound up and--and it went off. But I didn't know. I didn't mean--"

"There, there, course you didn't. We know you didn't. What was it thatwent off?"

"The--the music chair. It was in the corner and Mr. Hallett took itand--and I couldn't say anything 'cause Mrs. Hobbs said I mustn't speaka word at the funeral. And--and he set in it and it played and--Oh, don't let him put me in jail! Please don't. "

Another burst of tears. Mary-'Gusta clung tightly to the Hamiltonjacket. Judge Baxter looked as if a light had suddenly broken upon thedarkness of his mind. 

"I see, " he said. "You were responsible for the 'Campbells. ' I see. "

Shadrach drew a long breath. 

"Whew!" he whistled. "So she was the one. Well, I swan!"

Zoeth stroked the child's hair. 

"That's all right, dearie, " he said. "Now don't you worry about that. We didn't know who did it, but now we do and it's all right. We know youdidn't mean to. "

"Won't--won't he knock my head off?"

"No, no, course he won't. Tell her so, Shadrach. "

Captain Shadrach pulled at his beard. Then he burst into a laugh. 

"I won't hurt you for nothin', sis, " he said, heartily. "It's all rightand don't you fret about it. Accidents will happen even in the bestregulated--er--funerals; though, " with a broad grin, "I hope another onelike that'll never happen to ME. Now don't you cry any more. "

Mary-'Gusta raised her head and regarded him steadily. 

"Won't I be put in jail?" she asked, more hopefully. 

"Indeed you won't. I never put anybody in jail in my life; though, " withan emphatic nod, "there's some folks ought to go there for frightenin'children out of their senses. Did that Mrs. Hobbs tell you I was goin'to--what was it?--knock your head off and all the rest?"

"Yes, sir, she did. "

"Well, she's a--she's what she is. What else did she say to you?"

"She--she said I was a bad, wicked child and she hoped I'd be sent tothe--the orphans' home. If she was to have the care of me, she said, she'd make me walk a chalk or know why. And she sent me to my room andsaid I couldn't have any supper. "

Zoeth and the Captain looked at each other. Baxter frowned. 

"On the very day of her father's funeral, " he muttered. 

"Can't I have any supper?" begged Mary-'Gusta. "I'm awful hungry; Ididn't want much dinner. "

Zoeth nodded. His tone, when he spoke, was not so mild as was usual withhim. 

"You shall have your supper, " he said. 

"And--and must I go to the orphans' home?"

No one answered at once. Zoeth and Captain Shad again looked at eachother and the Judge looked at them both. 

"Must I?" repeated Mary-'Gusta. "I--I don't want to. I'd rather die, Iguess, and go to Heaven, same as Mother and Father. But Mrs. Hobbs saysthey don't have any dolls nor cats in Heaven, so I don't know's I'd wantto go there. "

Baxter walked to the window and looked out. Captain Shadrach reachedinto his pocket, produced a crumpled handkerchief, and blew his noseviolently. Zoeth stroked the child's hair. 

"Mary-'Gusta, " he said, after a moment, "how would you like to go overto South Harniss and--and see me and Cap'n Gould a little while? Justmake us a visit, you know. Think you'd like that?"

The Captain started. "Good land, Zoeth!" he exclaimed. "Be careful whatyou're sayin'. "

"I ain't sayin' anything definite, Shadrach. I know how you feel aboutit. I just wanted to see how she felt herself, that's all. Think you'dlike that, Mary-'Gusta?"

Mary-'Gusta thought it over. "I guess maybe I would, " she said, "ifI could take my dolls and David. I wouldn't want to leave David. Mrs. Hobbs don't like cats. "

And at that moment Mrs. Hobbs herself appeared in the doorway of thecarriage room. She saw the child and her eyes snapped. 

"So she was here, " she said. "I thought as much. Mary-'Gusta, what didyou run away from that room for? Didn't I forbid you leavin' it? She'sbeen a bad girl, Judge Baxter, " she added, "and I can't make her behave. I try my best, but I'm sure I don't know what to do. "

Captain Shadrach thrust both hands into his pockets. 

"I tell you what to do, " he said, sharply. "You go into the house andput some of her things into a valise or satchel or somethin'. And hurryup as fast as you can. "

Mrs. Hobbs was astonished. 

"Put 'em in a satchel?" she repeated. "What for? Where's she goin'?"

"She's goin' home along with me and Zoeth. And she's got to start insideof half an hour. You hurry. "

"But--but--"

"There ain't any 'buts'; haven't got time for 'em. "

Mr. Hamilton regarded his friend with an odd expression. 

"Shadrach, " he asked, "do you realize what you're sayin'?"

"Who's sayin'? You said it, I didn't. Besides takin' her home with ustoday don't mean nothin', does it? A visit won't hurt us. Visits don'tbind anybody to anything. Jumpin' Judas! I guess we've got room enoughin the house to have one young-one come visitin' for--for a couple ofdays, if we want to. What are you makin' such a fuss about? Hereyou, " turning to the housekeeper, "ain't you gone yet? You've got justthirteen minutes to get that satchel ready. "

Mrs. Hobbs departed, outraged dignity in her walk and manner. 

"Am--am I goin'?" faltered Mary-'Gusta. 

Zoeth nodded. 

"Yes, " he said, "you're goin'. Unless, of course, you'd rather stayhere. "

"No, I'd rather go, if--if I can take David and the dolls. Can I?"

"Can she, Shadrach?"

Captain Shad, who was pacing the floor, turned savagely. 

"What do you ask me that for?" he demanded. "This is your doin's, 'tain't mine. You said it first, didn't you? Yes, yes, let her take thedolls and cats--and cows and pigs, too, if she wants to. Jumpin' fire!What do I care? If a feller's bound to be a fool, a little live stockmore or less don't make him any bigger one. . . . Land sakes! I believeshe's goin' to cry again. Don't do that! What's the matter now?"

The tears were starting once more in the girl's eyes. 

"I--I don't think you want me, " she stammered. "If you did you--youwouldn't talk so. "

The Captain was greatly taken aback. He hesitated, tugged at his beard, and then, walking over to the child, took her by the hand. 

"Don't you mind the way I talk, Mary-'Gusta, " he said. "I'm liable totalk 'most any way, but I don't mean nothin' by it. I like little girls, same as Zoeth said. And I ain't mad about the jig-tune chair, neither. Say, " with a sudden inspiration; "here we are settin' here and one ofour passengers has left the dock. We got to find that cat, ain't we?What did you say his name was--Solomon?"

"No, sir; David. "

"David, sure enough. If I'd been up in Scripture the way Zoeth--Mr. Hamilton, here--is, I wouldn't have made that mistake, would I? Come on, let's you and me go find David and break the news to him. Say, he'll besome surprised to find he's booked for a foreign v'yage, won't he? Comeon, we'll go find him. "

Mary-'Gusta slowly rose from Mr. Hamilton's knee. She regarded theCaptain steadily for a moment; then, hand in hand, they left the barntogether. 

Judge Baxter whistled. "Well!" he exclaimed. "I must say I didn't expectthis. "

Zoeth smiled. "There ain't many better men than Shadrach Gould, " heobserved, quietly. 

CHAPTER IV

Mary-'Gusta, even though she lives to be a very old woman, will neverforget that ride to South Harniss. It was the longest ride she had evertaken, and that of itself would have made it unforgettable. Then, too, she was going visiting, and she had never been visiting before. Also, she was leaving Mrs. Hobbs and, for a time at least, that lady could notremind her of her queerness and badness. More than all, she was going ona journey, a real journey, like a grown-up or a person in a story, andher family--David and the dolls--were journeying with her. What thejourney might mean to her, or to what sort of place she was going--thesequestions did not trouble her in the least. Childlike, she was quitesatisfied with the wonderful present, and to the future, even thedreaded orphans' home, she gave not a thought. 

Perched on the buggy seat, squeezed in between Captain Shad and Mr. Hamilton, she gazed wide-eyed at the houses and fields and woods alongthe roadside. She did not speak, unless spoken to, and the two men spokebut seldom, each apparently thinking hard. Occasionally the Captainwould sigh, or whistle, or groan, as if his thoughts were disturbing andmost unusual. Once he asked her if she was comfortable. 

"Yes, sir, " she said. 

"Havin' a good time? Like to go to ride, do you?"

Mary-'Gusta assumed her most grown-up air. 

"Yes, sir, " she said. "I just love to travel. It's been the dream of mylife. "

"Gosh! I want to know!" exclaimed the astonished Shadrach; then he shookhis head, chuckled, and ordered the horse to hurry up. 

The dolls were arranged in a row against the back of the dashboard. Infront of them, and between the Captain's feet and Zoeth's, the batteredsatchel containing the child's everyday dress and visiting essentialswas squeezed. Mary-'Gusta's feet stuck straight out and rested on thetop of the satchel. David, in a basket with the lid tied fast, wasplanted between the last mentioned feet. David did not appear to sharehis--or her--owner's love of travel. The cat wailed lugubriously atintervals. 

Zoeth made the next attempt at conversation. 

"Never been to South Harniss, have you, Mary-'Gusta?" he inquired. 

"No, sir, " gravely. "But, " remembering the housekeeper's final chargenot to forget her manners, if she had any, "I'm sure I'll like it verymuch. "

"Oh, you are, eh? Well, that's nice. What makes you so sure?"

Mary-'Gusta reflected. She remembered what Mrs. Bailey had said after aweek's visit in Bayport, which is fourteen miles from Ostable. "I thinkeverybody enjoys a change of air, " she observed. 

"My soul and body!" exclaimed Mr. Hamilton. 

Captain Shad looked down at his small passenger. 

"How old are you, sis?" he demanded. 

"I'm seven. But I ain't a sis; I haven't got any brothers or sisters. "

"Oh! Well, that's a fact, too, now I come to think of it. How old didyou say; seventy, was it?"

"No, sir. Seven. Did you think I said seventy?"

"Eh? No, I guess not. "

"I couldn't be seventy. If I was I'd be lots bigger, you know. "

"That's so; I presume likely you would. "

More reflection. Then: "If I was seventy I guess you wouldn't have askedme. "

"Sho! Wouldn't I? Why not?"

"'Cause grown-up folks don't like to be asked how old they are. I askedMrs. Hobbs how old she was once and she didn't like it. "

"Didn't she?"

"No, sir. She told me to mind my own business. "

The Captain laughed aloud. Then, turning to Mr. Hamilton, he said: "Say, Zoeth, Isaiah'll be a little mite surprised when he sees this craft makeport, eh?"

Zoeth smiled. "I shouldn't wonder, " he replied. 

"Um-hm. I'd like to have a tintype of Isaiah's face. Well, sis--er, Mary-'Gusta, I mean--there's South Harniss dead ahead. How do you likethe looks of it?"

They had emerged from a long stretch of woods and were at the summit ofa little hill. From the crest of this hill the road wound down past anold cemetery with gray, moss-covered slate tombstones, over a bridgebetween a creek and a good-sized pond, on through a clump of pines, where it joined the main highway along the south shore of the Cape. Thishighway, in turn, wound and twisted--there are few straight roadson Cape Cod--between other and lower hills until it became a villagestreet, the main street of South Harniss. The sun was low in the westand its light bathed the clustered roofs in a warm glow, touchedwindows and vanes with fire, and twinkled and glittered on the watersof Nantucket Sound, which filled the whole southern horizon. There waslittle breeze and the smoke from the chimneys rose almost straight. So, too, did the smoke from the distant tugs and steamers. There were two orthree schooners far out, and nearer shore, a sailboat. A pretty picture, one which artists have painted and summer visitors enthused over manytimes. 

To Mary-'Gusta it was new and wonderful. The child was in a mood to likealmost anything just then. Mrs. Hobbs was miles away and the memory ofthe music chair and her own disgrace and shame were but memories. Shedrew a long breath and looked and looked. 

"Like it, do you?" asked Zoeth, echoing his friend's question. 

Mary-'Gusta nodded. "Yes, sir, " she said. "It--it's lovely. "

Captain Shadrach nodded. "Best town on earth, if I do say it, " he said, emphatically. "So you think it's lovely, eh?"

"Yes, sir. " Then, pointing, she asked: "Is that your house?"

The Captain grinned. "Well, no, not exactly, " he said. "That's the townhall. Nobody lives there but the selectmen and they ain't permanentboarders--that is, I have hopes some of 'em 'll move after town-meetin'day. Our house is over yonder, down nigh the shore. "

The old horse pricked up his ears at sight of home and the buggy movedfaster. It rolled through the main street, where the Captain andMr. Hamilton were kept busy answering hails and returning bows fromcitizens, male and female. Through the more thickly settled portion ofthe village it moved, until at a point where there were fewer shops andthe houses were older and less up-to-date, it reached the corner of anarrow cross road. There it stopped before a frame building bearing thesign, "Hamilton and Company, Dry Goods, Groceries, Boots and Shoes andNotions. " There was a narrow platform at the front of the building andupon this platform were several men, mostly of middle age or older. Mary-'Gusta noticed that most of these men were smoking. If she had beenolder she might have noticed that each man either sat upon the platformsteps or leaned against the posts supporting its roof. Not one wasdepending solely upon his own muscles for support; he sat upon or leanedagainst something wooden and substantial. 

As the buggy drew alongside the platform the men evinced considerableinterest. Not enough to make them rise or relinquish support, butinterest, nevertheless. 

"Hello, Shad!" hailed one. "Home again, be you?"

"Pretty big funeral, was it?" drawled another. 

"Who's that you got aboard?" queried a third. 

Captain Shadrach did not answer. Mr. Hamilton leaned forward. "Where'sAnnabel?" he asked. 

"She's inside, " replied the first questioner. "Want to see her? Hi, Jabe, " turning his head and addressing one of the group nearest thedoor, "tell Annabel, Zoeth and Shad's come. "

"Jabe, " who was propped against a post, languidly pushed himself awayfrom it, opened the door behind him and shouted: "Annabel, come outhere!" Then he slouched back and leaned against the post again. 

The door opened and a stout, red-faced young woman appeared. She lookedmuch more like an Eliza than an Annabel. She had a newspaper in herhand. 

"Hey?" she drawled. "Who was that hollerin'? Was it you, Jabez Hedges?"

Jabez did not take the trouble to answer. Instead he took a hand fromhis trousers pocket and waved it toward the buggy. Annabel looked; thenshe came down the steps. 

"Hello!" she said. "I see you got back all right. "

Zoeth nodded. "How'd you get along in the store?" he asked, anxiously. "How's business?"

"Wasn't none to speak of, " replied Annabel carelessly. "Sold a couple ofspools of cotton and--and some salt pork and sugar. Ezra Howland boughtthe pork. He wasn't satisfied; said there wasn't enough lean in it tosuit him, but I let him have it a cent cheaper, so he took it. "

Mr. Hamilton seemed a trifle disappointed. "Was that all?" he asked, with a sigh. 

"Yup. No, 'twa'n't neither, come to think of it. Rastus Young's wife, come in with her two young-ones and bought some shoes and hats for 'em. "

"Did she pay cash?" demanded Captain Shadrach sharply. 

"No; she said charge 'em up, so I done it. Say, ain't you comin' inpretty soon? It's 'most my supper time. "

Zoeth opened his mouth to answer, but the Captain got ahead of him. 

"It's our supper time, too, " he said, crisply. "When we've had it youcan have yours. Get dap, January. "

The horse, whose name was Major but who was accustomed to beingaddressed by almost any name, jogged on. Mr. Hamilton sighed once more. 

"I'm 'fraid one of us had ought to stayed in the store, Shadrach, " hesaid. "Annabel means well, she's real obligin'; but she ain't a goodhand at business. "

Shadrach snorted. "Obligin' nothin'!" he retorted. "We're the ones thatwas obligin' when we agreed to pay her seventy-five cents for settin'astern of the counter and readin' the Advocate. I told you when youhired her that she wasn't good for nothin' but ballast. "

"I know, Shadrach. I'd ought to have stayed to home and kept storemyself. But I did feel as if I must go to Marcellus's funeral. "

"Sellin' them Youngs a whole passel of stuff and lettin' 'em charge itup!" went on Shadrach. "They owe us enough now to keep a decent familyall winter. Reg'lar town dead-beats, that's what they are. You couldn'tget a cent out of Rastus Young if you were to run a dredge through him. "

Mr. Hamilton groaned remorsefully. "If I'd only stayed at home!" hesaid. 

"If you'd stayed to home you'd have charged up the stuff just the sameas she did. You're the softest thing, outside of a sponge, in this town. Anybody can impose on you, and you know it, Zoeth. "

Zoeth's habitual mildness gave way to resentment, mild resentment. 

"Why, Shadrach, " he retorted, "how you talk! You was the one thatcharged up the last things Rastus's folks bought. You know you was. "

The Captain looked as if he had been caught napping. 

"Well, what's that got to do with it?" he sputtered. "'Twasn't nothin'but some corn meal and a few yards of calico. How could I help chargin'it up, with that woman cryin' and goin' on about their havin' nothin'to eat nor wear in the house? I couldn't let 'em starve, could I? Norfreeze neither?"

"'Twas only last week she did it, " protested his partner. "Folks don'tfreeze in April, seems to me. "

"Aw, be still! Don't talk no more about it. By fire!" with a suddenchange of subject and a burst of enthusiasm, "look at that horse, willyou! Turned right in at the gate without my pullin' the helm once orsayin' a word--knows as much as a Christian, that horse does. "

The buggy had rocked and plowed its way over the hummocks and throughthe sand of the narrow lane and was at the top of a grass-coveredknoll, a little hill. At the foot of the hill was the beach, strewnwith seaweed, and beyond, the Sound, its waters now a rosy purple inthe sunset light. On the slope of the hill toward the beach stood a low, rambling, white house, a barn, and several sheds and outbuildings. Therewere lilac bushes by the front door of the house, a clam-shell walk fromthe lane to that door, and, surrounding the whole, a whitewashed picketfence. A sandy rutted driveway led from the rear of the house and theentrance of the barn down to a big gate, now wide open. It was throughthis gateway and along this drive that the sagacious Major was pullingthe buggy. 

Mary-'Gusta stared at the house. As she stared the back door was thrownopen and a tall, thin man came out. He was in his shirtsleeves, his armswere bare to the elbow, and to Mary-'Gusta's astonishment he wore anapron, a gingham apron similar to those worn by Mrs. Hobbs when at workin the kitchen. 

"Ahoy, there, Isaiah!" hailed the Captain. "Here we are. "

The man with the apron took a big nickel watch from the upper pocketof his vest, looked at it, and shook his head. Upon his face, which waslong and thin like the rest of him, there was a grieved expression. 

"A little mite late, ain't we, Isaiah?" said Zoeth, hastily. "Hope weain't kept supper waitin' too long?"

The tall man returned the watch to the pocket. 

"Only twenty-three minutes, that's all, " he drawled, with theresignation of a martyr. "Twenty-three minutes ain't much in a lifetime, maybe--but it don't help fried potatoes none. Them potatoes was ready athalf-past five. "

"Well, 'tain't six yet, " protested Captain Shad. 

"Maybe 'tain't, but it's twenty-three minutes later'n half-past five. Last thing you said to me was, 'Have supper ready at half-past five!' Ihad it ready. Them potatoes went on the fire at--"

"There! there!" interrupted the Captain. "Never mind the potatoes. We'll'tend to them in a minute. Give us a hand with this dunnage. There'sa satchel here and some more stuff. Sooner this craft's unloaded thesooner we can eat. All ashore that's goin' ashore. "

Zoeth climbed out of the buggy. He lifted their passenger to the ground. 

"Mary-'Gusta, " he said, "here's where Cap'n Gould and I live. This isMr. Isaiah Chase. Isaiah, this is Mary Lathrop, Cap'n Marcellus's littlegirl. She's come to--t--"

"To make us a little visit, " put in the Captain, promptly. "You want toget acquainted with Isaiah, Mary-'Gusta; he's cook and steward for meand Mr. Zoeth. That's right; shake hands and be sociable. "

Mary-'Gusta extended her hand and Mr. Chase, after wiping his own handon the apron, pumped hers up and down. 

"Pleased to meet you, " he said, solemnly. 

"Now for the dunnage, " said Captain Shad. "There's the satchel and--andthe other things. Look out for that basket! LOOK OUT!"

Mr. Chase had seized the basket and swung it out of the buggy. David, frightened at the sudden aerial ascension, uttered a howl. Isaiahdropped the basket as if it was red hot. 

"What in tunket!" he exclaimed. 

"Nothin' but a cat, " explained the Captain. "'Twon't hurt you. "

"A cat! What--whose cat?"

"Mine, " said Mary-'Gusta, running to the rescue. "He's a real good cat. He ain't cross; he's scared, that's all. Honest, he ain't cross. Areyou, David?"

David howled and clawed at the cover of the basket. Mr. Chase backedaway. 

"A cat!" he repeated. "You fetched a cat--here?"

"Sartin we fetched it. " Captain Shadrach was evidently losing patience. "Did you think we'd fetch an elephant? Now get out them--them dollbabies and things. "

Isaiah stared at the dolls. Mary-'Gusta stopped patting the basket andhastened to the side of the buggy. "I'll take the dollies, " she said. "They're mine, too. "

A moment later they entered the house. Mary-'Gusta bore three of thedolls. Mr. Hamilton carried the other two, and Isaiah, with the valisein one hand and the basket containing the shrieking David at arm'slength in the other, led the way. Captain Shad, after informing themthat he would be aboard in a jiffy, drove on to the barn. 

The room they first entered was the kitchen. It was small, ratheruntidy, and smelt strongly of fish and the fried potatoes. 

"Come right along with me, Mary-'Gusta, " said Zoeth. "Fetch the satchel, Isaiah. "

"Hold on, " shouted the perturbed "cook and steward. " "What--what in thenation will I do with this critter?"

The "critter" was David, who was apparently turning somersaults in thebasket. 

Zoeth hesitated. Mary-'Gusta settled the question. 

"Put him right down, please, " she said. "He'll be better soon as he'sput down. He's never traveled before and it's kind of strange to him. He'll be all right and I'll come back and let him out pretty soon. Mayn't I, Mr. --Mr. Chase?"

"Huh? Yes, yes, you can if you want to, I cal'late. I don't want to, that's sure. "

He deposited the basket on the floor at his feet. Mary-'Gusta looked atit rather dubiously and for an instant seemed about to speak, butshe did not, and followed Mr. Hamilton from the kitchen, through theadjoining room, evidently the dining-room, and up a narrow flight ofstairs. 

"I cal'late we'll put her in the spare room, won't we, Isaiah?" queriedZoeth, with some hesitation. 

Isaiah grunted. "Guess so, " he said, ungraciously, "Ain't no other placethat I know of. Bed ain't made, though. "

The spare room was of good size, and smelled shut up and musty, asspare rooms in the country usually do. It was furnished with a bureau, washstand, and two chairs, each painted in a robin's egg blue withsprays of yellow roses. There were several pictures on the walls, theirsubjects religious and mournful. The bed was, as Mr. Chase had said, notmade; in fact it looked as if it had not been made for some time. 

"I've been cal'latin' to make up that bed for more'n a month, " explainedIsaiah. "Last time 'twas unmade was when Zoeth had that minister fromTrumet here of a Saturday and Sunday. Every day I've cal'lated to makeup that bed, but I don't seem to get no time. I'm so everlastin' busy Idon't get time for nothin', somehow. "

"I can make the bed, " declared Mary-'Gusta, eagerly. "I can make bedsreal well. Mrs. Hobbs told me so--once. "

The two men looked at each other. Before either could speak atremendous racket broke out on the floor below, a sound of something--orsomebody--tumbling about, a roar in a human voice and a feline screech. Mary-'Gusta rushed for the stairs. 

"I knew he would, " she said, frantically. "I was afraid somebody would. It was RIGHT in front of the door. Oh! David, dear! I'm a-comin'! I'ma-comin'!"

From the kitchen came Captain Shadrach's voice. It sounded excited andangry. 

"Who in blazes left that dum critter right under my feet?" he hollered. "I--I swan, I believe I've broke my neck--or his--one or t'other. "

When Zoeth and Isaiah reached the kitchen they found the Captain sittingin a chair, rubbing his knees, and Mary-'Gusta seated on the floorbeside the open basket, hugging the frightened and struggling David. 

"I--I guess he's all right, " panted the child. "I was so afraid he'd bekilled. You ain't killed, are you, David?"

David appeared to be remarkably sound and active. He wriggled from hisowner's arms and bolted under the stove. 

"No; he's all right, " said Mary-'Gusta. "Isn't it nice he ain't hurt, Mr. --I mean Cap'n Gould?"

Captain Shad rubbed his knee. "Um--yes, " he said, with elaboratesarcasm; "it's lovely. Course I don't mind breakin' both MY legs, but ifthat cat had been--er--bruised or anything I should have felt bad. Well, Isaiah, " he added, tartly, turning to the grinning "steward, " "are themfried potatoes of yours real or just in your mind?"

"Eh? Why--why they're right there on the stove, Cap'n Shad. "

"Want to know! Then suppose you put 'em on the table. I'm hungry and I'dlike to eat one more square meal afore somethin' else happens to finishme altogether. By fire! if this ain't been a day! First that chair, andthen that will and letter of Marcellus's, and then this. Humph! Come on, all hands, let's eat supper. I need somethin' solid to brace me up fortomorrow's program; if it's up to this, I'll need strength to last itthrough. Come on!"

That first supper in the white house by the shore was an experience forMary-'Gusta. Mrs. Hobbs, in spite of her faultfinding and temper, hadbeen a competent and careful housekeeper. Meals which she prepared werewell cooked and neatly served. This meal was distinctly different. There was enough to eat--in fact, an abundance--fried cod and the friedpotatoes and hot biscuits and dried-apple pie; but everything was putupon the table at the same time, and Mr. Chase sat down with the othersand did not even trouble to take off his apron. The tablecloth was notvery clean and the knives and forks and spoons did not glitter likethose the child had been accustomed to see. 

Even Mr. Hamilton, to whom most of the things of this world--his belovedstore excepted--seemed to be unessential trivialities, spoke of thetable linen. 

"Seems to me, " he observed, in his gentle and hesitating way, "thistablecloth's sort of spotted up. Don't you think so, Shadrach?"

Captain Shad's reply was emphatic and to the point. 

"Looks as if 'twas breakin' out with chicken-pox, " he replied. "Ain't wegot a clean one in the locker, Isaiah?"

Mr. Chase's face assumed an aggrieved expression. 

"Course we have, " he answered, "but I didn't know you was goin' to havecompany. "

"Neither did we. But we could stand a clean table-cloth, even at that. "

"I've got somethin' to do besides changin' tablecloths every day. "

"Every day! Every Thanksgivin' Day, you mean. This one--"

"Now, look-a-here, Cap'n Shad; you know well as I do that Sarah J. Never come to do the washin' last week. She was down with the grip andcouldn't move. If you expect me to do washin' as well as cook and sweepand keep house and--and shovel snow, and--"

"Shovel snow! What kind of talk's that? There ain't been any snow sinceFebruary. "

"Don't make no difference. When there was I shoveled it, didn't I? Itain't no use; I try and try, but I can't give satisfaction and I might'swell quit. I don't have to stay here and slave myself to death. I canget another job. There's folks in this town that's just dyin' to have mework for em. "

Captain Shadrach muttered something to the effect that if Isaiah didwork for them they might die sooner. Mr. Chase rose from his seat. 

"All right, " he said, with dignity. "All right, this settles it. I'mthrough. After all the years I sailed cook along with you, Shad Gould, and after you beggin' me--yes, sir, beggin' on your knees, as you mightsay, for me to run this house for you long as you lived--after that, to--to--Good-by. I'll try not to lay it up against you. "

He was moving--not hastily, but actually moving--toward the kitchendoor. Zoeth, who was evidently much disturbed, rose and laid a hand onhis arm. 

"There, there, Isaiah, " he pleaded. "Don't act so. We ain't findin' anyfault. Shadrach wasn't findin' fault, was you, Shadrach?"

"No, no, course I wasn't. Don't talk so foolish, Isaiah. Nobody wantsyou to quit. All I said was--Come back here and set down. Your tea'sgettin' all cold. "

To Mary-'Gusta it seemed as if the tea had been at least cool to beginwith. However, Mr. Chase suffered himself to be led back to the tableand attacked his supper in injured silence. Mary-'Gusta offered asuggestion. 

"I guess I could wash a tablecloth, " she said. "I always wash my dolls'things. "

Her three companions were plainly surprised. The Captain was the firstto speak. 

"You don't say!" he exclaimed. 

"Yes, sir, I do. And, " with a glance at the silver, "I can scourknives and forks and spoons, too. I used to help Mrs. Hobbs scour 'emsometimes. "

Even Shadrach had no remark to make. He gazed at the child, then atZoeth, and drew a long breath. 

As soon as supper was over the Captain and Mr. Hamilton hastened up tothe village and the store. 

"You better go to bed pretty soon, Mary-'Gusta, " said Zoeth. "You'retired, I know. Isaiah'll make your bed for you. We'll be on hand and seeyou first thing in the morning. Isaiah'll go up with you and blow outyour light and all. Good night. "

The Captain said good night also and the pair hurried out. 

When at ten o'clock they returned they found Mr. Chase up and awaitingthem. Isaiah had a story to tell. 

"I never see a young-one like that in this world, " declared Isaiah. "Youknow what she done after you left? Helped me do the dishes. Yes, sir, by time, that's what she done. And she wiped 'em first-rate, too; goodenough to satisfy ME, and you know that means somethin' 'cause I ain'teasy to satisfy. And talk! Say, I never had a child talk same as shedoes. How old is she, for the land sakes?"

Zoeth told them the visitor's age. 

"Well, maybe so, " went on Isaiah, "but she don't talk seven; nigherseventeen, if you ask me. Pumpin' me about funerals, she was, and aboutfolks dyin' and so on. Said she cal'lated she'd have a doll's funeralsome time. 'For mercy sakes, what for?' I says. 'Can't you think upanything pleasanter'n that to play? That kind of game would give me theblue creeps!' She, thought that over--she generally thinks about a thingfor five minutes afore she talks about it--and says she, 'I know, ' shesays, 'but a person must go to funerals and so it's better to get usedto 'em and know how to behave. I shouldn't want my dolls, ' she says, 'todo things at funerals that make people feel bad and laugh. ' I couldn'tget that through my head. 'If they felt bad they wouldn't laugh, wouldthey?' says I. 'THEY wouldn't--the ones that felt bad wouldn't, ' saysshe, 'but others might laugh at them. And that would make the person whowas to blame feel TERRIBLY. ' Now what was all that about? Can you makeany sense of it?"

Captain Shadrach smiled sheepishly. "I cal'late me and Zoeth have anidea what she was drivin' at, " he said. "Go on, Isaiah; what else didshe say?"

"What didn't she say? Wanted to know if I thought God would knockanybody's head off that had done wrong, even if they didn't mean to. Yes, sir, that's what she said---if God would knock anybody's head off. Mine pretty nigh come off when she said that. I told her that, fur's Iknew, He wasn't in the habit of doin' it. She said that Mrs. Hobbs toldher that if she wasn't punished for her wickedness in this world shewould be in the next. She was real kind of scared about it, seemed tome. Now what's she done that's wicked, a little critter like her?"

Zoeth said nothing, but he looked vexed and disturbed. 

"I'd knock SOMEBODY'S head off if I had my way, " observed Shadrach. "Orif I didn't, I'd like to. Where is she now, Isaiah?"

"She's up in the spare room, asleep I cal'late. And she's got her dollsalong with her, three on one side and two on t'other. Wanted me to besure and wake all hands of 'em up on time in the mornin'. He, he! Sheundressed them dolls, every one of 'em, afore they turned in. Oh, yes, and she helped me make the bed, too. She CAN make a bed, blessed if shecan't. And all the time a-talkin', one minute like a child and the nextlike a forty-year-old woman. She's the queerest young-one!"

"I guess she's had a kind of queer bringin' up, " said Zoeth. 

"Where's that--where's Saul--er--Elijah--what's his name--David?" askedthe Captain. "Where's the cat?"

"He's out in the barn, locked in. She had to go out along with me whenI toted him there, and kiss him good night and tell him not to befrightened, and goodness knows what all--you'd think she was that cat'smother, to hear her. How long's she goin' to stay?"

"Don't know, " replied Shadrach, hastily. "That ain't settled yet. "

"How'd you come to fetch her over here? You're the last ones Iever thought would be fetchin' a child to visit you. Say, you ain'tcal'latin' to keep her for good, are you?"

Zoeth hesitated. Shadrach's answer was emphatic. 

"Course not, " he snapped. "What do Zoeth and me know about managin' achild? Keep her for good, the idea!"

Isaiah chuckled. "'Cordin' to my notion, " he said, "you wouldn't haveto know much. You wouldn't have to manage her. If she wasn't managin'you--yes, and me, too--inside of a month, I'd miss my guess. She's aborn manager. You ought to see her handle them dolls and that cat. "

When the two partners of Hamilton and Company went upstairs to theirown bedrooms they opened the door of the spare room and peeped in. Mary-'Gusta's head and those of the dolls were in a row upon the pillow. It was a strange sight in that room and that house. 

"I declare!" whispered Zoeth. "And this mornin' we never dreamed of sucha thing. How long this day has been!"

"Judgin' by the state of my nerves and knees it's been two year, "replied Shadrach. "I've aged that much, I swan to man. Humph! I wonderif Marcellus knows what's happened. "

His tone was not loud, but it or the lamplight in her face awakenedMary-'Gusta. She stirred, opened her eyes and regarded them sleepily. 

"Is it mornin'?" she asked. 

"No, no, " replied Zoeth. "It's only ten o'clock. Captain Shadrach andI was goin' to bed and we looked in to see if you was all right, that'sall. You must go right to sleep again, dearie. "

"Yes, sir, " said Mary-'Gusta, obediently. Then she added, "I said myprayers to myself but I'll say 'em to you if you want me to. "

The embarrassed Captain would have protested, but the girl's mind seemedto be made up. 

"I guess I will say 'em again, " she said. "There's somethin' in 'emmaybe you'd ought to hear. " She closed her eyes. "Please God blessFather--Oh, I forgot--bless Mrs. Hobbs and Cap'n Gould and Mr. Hamilton. I thought I'd ask him to bless you, you know, because I'm visitin'here. And bless David and Rose and Rosette and Emma and Christobel andMinnehaha. They're my dolls. And please, God, forgive me for breakin'the music chair and makin' it go off, because you know I am very sorryand won't do it again. And--and, Oh, yes!--bless Mr. Chase, Amen. Youdon't mind my puttin' you and Mr. Chase in, do you?"

"No, dearie, not a mite, " said Zoeth. 

Captain Shad, looking more embarrassed than ever, shook his head. "Goodnight, " said Mary-'Gusta. Zoeth hesitated, then he walked over andkissed her. 

"Good night, little girl, " he said. 

"Good night, Mr. Hamilton, " said Mary-'Gusta. Then she turnedexpectantly toward the Captain. Shadrach fidgeted, turned to go, andthen, turning back, strode to the bed, brushed the soft cheek with hisrough one and hastened out into the hall. Zoeth followed him, bearingthe lamp. At the door of the Captain's room, they paused. 

"Well, good night, Zoeth, " said Shadrach, brusquely. 

"Good night, Shadrach. This--this is queer business for you and me, ain't it?"

"I should think 'twas. Humph! You said this morning that maybe Marcelluswas alongside of us today. If he is he knows what's happened, don't he?"

"Perhaps he knows that and more, Shadrach. Perhaps he can see what'llhappen in the future. Perhaps he knows that, too. "

"Humph! Well, if he does, he knows a heap more'n I do. Good night. "

CHAPTER V

Mary-'Gusta awoke next morning to find the sun shining in at the windowof her bedroom. She had no means of knowing the time, but she wascertain it must be very late and, in consequence, was almost dressedwhen Isaiah knocked at the door to tell her breakfast would be readypretty soon. A few minutes later she appeared in the kitchen bearing thepitcher from the washstand in her room. 

"What you doin' with that?" demanded Mr. Chase, who was leaning againstthe door-post looking out into the yard. 

"I was goin' to fill it, " said the child. "There wasn't any water towash with. "

Isaiah sniffed. "I ain't had no time to fill wash pitchers, " hedeclared. "That one's been on my mind for more'n a fortni't but I'vehad other things to do. You can wash yourself in that basin in the sink. That's what the rest of us do. "

Mary-'Gusta obediently washed in the tin basin and rubbed her face andhands dry upon the roller towel behind the closet door. 

"Am I late for breakfast?" she asked, anxiously. 

"No, I guess not. Ain't had breakfast yet. Cap'n Shad's out to the barn'tendin' to the horse and Zoeth's feedin' the hens. They'll be inpretty soon, if we have luck. Course it's TIME for breakfast, but that'snothing. I'm the only one that has to think about time in this house. "

The girl regarded him thoughtfully. 

"You have to work awful hard, don't you, Mr. Chase?" she said. 

Isaiah looked at her suspiciously. 

"Huh?" he grunted. "Who told you that?"

"Nobody. I just guessed it from what you said. "

"Humph! Well, you guessed right. I don't have many spare minutes. "

"Yes, sir. Are you a perfect slave?"

"Eh? What?"

"Mrs. Hobbs says she is a perfect slave when she has to work hard. "

"Who's Mrs. Hobbs?"

"She's--she keeps house--that is, she used to keep house for my fatherover in Ostable. I don't suppose she will any more now he's dead. She'llbe glad, I guess. Perhaps she won't have to be a perfect slave now. She used to wear aprons same as you do. I never saw a man wear an apronbefore. Do you have to wear one?"

"Hey? Have to? No, course I don't have to unless I want to. "

Mary-'Gusta reflected. 

"I suppose, " she went on, after a moment, "it saves your pants. You'dget 'em all spotted up if you didn't wear the apron. Pneumonia is a goodthing to take out Spots. "

Isaiah was surprised. 

"What is?" he asked. 

"Pneumonia. . . . No, I don't think that's right. It's pneumonia thatmakes you sick. Somethin' else takes out the spots. I know now; it'sam-monia. It's very good for spots but you mustn't smell the bottle. Ismelled the bottle once and it went right up into my head. "

"What on earth are you talkin' about? The bottle went up into yourhead!"

"No, the ammonia smell did. It was awful; like--like--" she paused, evidently in search of a simile; "like sneezin' backwards, " she added. "It was terrible. "

Isaiah laughed. "I should think 'twould be, " he declared. "Sneezin'backwards! Ho, ho! That's a good one!"

Mary-'Gusta's eyes were still fixed upon the apron. 

"Mr. --I mean Cap'n Gould said you was the cook and steward, " sheobserved. "I don't know as I know what a steward is, exactly. Is it theone that stews things?"

"Ha, ha!" roared Isaiah. Mary-'Gusta's dignity was hurt. The color rosein her cheeks. 

"Was it funny?" she asked. "I didn't know. I know that a cook cookedthings, and a baker baked things, so I thought maybe a steward stewed'em. "

Mr. Chase continued to chuckle. The girl considered. 

"I see, " she said, with a solemn nod. "It was funny, I guess. I remembernow that a friar doesn't fry things. He is a--a kind of minister. FriarTuck was one in 'Robin Hood, ' you know. Mrs. Bailey read about him tome. Do you like 'Robin Hood, ' Mr. Chase?"

Isaiah said he didn't cal'late that he knew anybody of that name. Thedialogue was interrupted here by the arrival of Zoeth and, a momentlater, Captain Shadrach. Breakfast was put upon the table in thedining-room and the quartette sat down to eat. 

Mary-'Gusta was quiet during the meal; she answered when spoken to butthe only questions she asked were concerning David. 

"He's all right, " said Captain Shad. "Lively as can be. He'll have agood time out in that barn; there's considerable many mice out there. Likes mice, don't he?"

"Yes, sir. He's a good mouser. Did he look as if he missed me?"

"Eh? Well, I didn't notice. He never mentioned it if he did. You cango see him after breakfast. What do you think she can find to do today, Zoeth?"

Mr. Hamilton had evidently considered the problem. 

"I thought maybe she'd like to go up to the store 'long of you and me, "he suggested. "Would you, Mary'Gusta?"

Mary-'Gusta hesitated. "I'd like to very much, " she said, "only--"

"Only what?"

"Only I've got to see to David and the dolls first. Couldn't I come upto the store afterwards?"

The Captain answered. "Why, I guess likely you could, " he said. "It'sstraight up the road to the corner. You can see the store from the topof the hill back here. Isaiah'll show you the way. But you can 'tendto--what's that cat's name?--Oh, yes, David--you can 'tend to Davidright off. Isaiah'll give the critter his breakfast, and the dolls canwait 'til noontime, can't they?"

Mary-'Gusta's mind was evidently divided between inclination and duty. Duty won. 

"They ain't dressed yet, " she said, gravely. "And besides they mightthink I'd gone off and left 'em and be frightened. This is a strangeplace to them, same as it is to me and David, you know. None of us haveever been visitin' before. "

So it was decided that she should wait until her family had been givenparental attention, and come to the store by herself. The partners leftfor their place of business and she and Mr. Chase remained at the house. Her first act, after leaving the table, was to go to the barn and returnbearing the cat in her arms. David ate a hearty breakfast and then, after enduring a motherly lecture concerning prudence and the danger ofgetting lost, was permitted to go out of doors. 

Mary-'Gusta, standing in the doorway, gazed after her pet. 

"I hope there's no dogs around here, " she said. "It would be dreadful ifthere was a dog. "

Isaiah tried to reassure her. "Oh, I cal'late there ain't no dog nighenough to do any harm, " he said; "besides, most cats can run fast enoughto get out of the way. "

The child shook her head. "I didn't mean that, " she said. "I meant itwould be dreadful for the dog. David doesn't have a mite of patiencewith dogs. He doesn't wait to see if they're nice ones or not, he justgoes for 'em and then--Oh! He most always goes for 'em. When he haskittens he ALWAYS does. "

Mr. Chase's reply to this illuminating disclosure was that he wanted toknow. 

"Yes, " said Mary-'Gusta, "David doesn't take to dogs, some way. Whydon't cats like dogs, Mr. Chase?"

Isaiah said that he cal'lated 'twas the nature of the critters not to. Mary-'Gusta agreed with him. 

"Natures are queer things, ain't they?" she said, solemnly. "I guesseverybody has a nature, cats and all. Mrs. Hobbs says my nature is acontrary one. What's your kind, Mr. Chase?

"Do you suppose, " she said, a few moments later, when the cook andsteward had shown symptoms of doing something beside lean against thesink and whistle, "do you suppose you could get along for a few minuteswhile I went up and dressed my dolls?"

Isaiah turned to stare at her. 

"Well, " he stammered, "I--I cal'late maybe I could if I tried hard. If you don't beat anything ever I see! What are you doin' with thatpitcher?"

The girl was holding the wash pitcher under the pump. 

"I'm fillin' it, " she answered. "Then you won't have to have it on yourmind any more. I'll hurry back just as fast as I can. "

She hastened out, bearing the brimming pitcher with both hands. Isaiahgazed after her, muttering a word or two, and then set about clearingthe breakfast table. 

She was down again shortly, the two favorites, Rose and Rosette, in herarms. She placed them carefully in the kitchen chair and bade them benice girls and watch mother do the dishes. 

"I left the others in the bedroom, " she explained. "Minnehaha ain't verywell this mornin'. I guess the excitement was too much for her. She is avery nervous child. "

Isaiah's evident amusement caused her to make one of her odd changesfrom childish make-believe to grown-up practicability. 

"Of course, " she added, with gravity, "I know she ain't really nervous. She's just full of sawdust, same as all dolls are, and she couldn't haveany nerves. But I like to play she's nervous and delicate. It's realhandy to say that when I don't want to take her with me. I'm a nervous, excitable child myself; Mrs. Hobbs says so. That's why I've hardly everbeen anywhere before, I guess. "

She insisted upon wiping the dishes while Isaiah washed them. Also, shereminded him that the tablecloth which had been so severely criticizedthe previous evening had not as yet been changed. The steward wasinclined to treat the matter lightly. 

"Never mind if 'tain't, " he said. "It's good enough for a spell longer. Let it stay. Besides, " he added, "the washin' ain't been done this weekand there ain't another clean one aboard. "

Mary-'Gusta smiled cheerfully. 

"Oh, yes, there is, " she said. "There's a real nice one in the bottomdrawer of the closet. I've been huntin' and I found it. Come and see. "

She led him into the dining-room and showed him the cloth she had found. 

"It's a real pretty one, I think, " she said. "Shall we put it on, Mr. Chase?"

"No, no, course not. That's the best tablecloth. Don't use that onlywhen there's company--or Sundays. "

Mary-'Gusta considered. She counted on her fingers. 

"How long have we used this dirty one?" she asked. 

"Eh? Oh, I don't know. Four or five days, maybe. " Then, evidentlyfeeling that the repetition of the "we" implied a sense of unwarrantedpartnership in the household management, he added with dignity, "Thatis, I'VE seen fit to use it that long. "

The sarcasm was wasted. The girl smiled and nodded. 

"That makes it all right, " she declared. "If we put this one on nowit'll be Sunday long before it's time to change. And we can wash theother one today or tomorrow. "

"Oh, WE can, eh?"

"Yes, sir"

Isaiah looked as if he wished to say something but was at a loss forwords. The Sunday cloth was spread upon the table while he was stillhunting for them. 

"And now, " said Mary-'Gusta, "if you're sure you don't need me any morejust now I guess I'd like to go up and see the store. May I?"

Site found the store of Hamilton and Company an exceedingly interestingplace. Zoeth and his partner greeted her cordially and she sat down upona box at the end of the counter and inspected the establishment. It wasnot very large, but there was an amazing variety in its stock. Muslin, tape, calico, tacks, groceries, cases of shoes, a rack with spools ofthread, another containing a few pocket knives, barrels, half a dozensalt codfish swinging from nails overhead, some suits of oilskinshanging beside them, a tumbled heap of children's caps and hats, even aglass-covered case containing boxes of candy with placards "1 c. Each"or "3 for 1 c. " displayed above them. 

"Like candy, do you?" asked Mr. Hamilton, noticing her scrutiny of thecase and its contents. 

"Yes, sir, " said Mary-'Gusta. 

"How about sassafras lozengers? Like them?"

"Yes, sir. "

She was supplied with a roll of the lozenges and munched them gravely. Captain Shad, who had been waiting on a customer, regarded her with anamused twinkle. 

"Sassafras lozengers are good enough for anybody, eh?" he observed. 

"Yes, sir, " replied Mary-'Gusta. Then she added, politely: "Only I guessthese are wintergreen. "

She stayed at the store until noon. Then she walked home with theCaptain whose turn it was to dine first that day. The hiring of Annabelhad been an unusual break in the business routine. Ordinarily but one ofthe partners left that store at a time. 

"Well, " inquired the Captain, as they walked down the lane, "what doyou think of it? Pretty good store for a place like South Harniss, ain'tit?"

"Yes, sir. "

"I bet you! Different from the Ostable stores, eh?"

"Yes, sir; I--I guess it is. "

"Um-hm. Well, how different?"

Mary-'Gusta took her usual interval for consideration. 

"I guess there's more--more things in it with separate smells to 'em, "she said. 

Captain Shad had no remark to make for a moment. Mary-'Gusta, however, was anxious to please. 

"They're nice smells, " she hastened to add. "I like 'em; only I neversmelled 'em all at the same time before. And I like the lozengers VERYmuch. "

The two or three days which Captain Shad had set as the limit of thechild's visit passed; as did the next two or three. She was busy and, apparently, enjoying herself. She helped Isaiah with the housework, andalthough he found the help not altogether unwelcome, he was inclined togrumble a little at what he called her "pesterin' around. "

"I never see such a young-one, " he told his employers. "I don't ask herto do dishes nor fill pitchers nor nothin'; she just does it on her ownhook. "

"Humph!" grunted Captain Shadrach. "So I judged from what I see. Does itpretty well, too, don't she?"

"Um-hm. Well enough, I guess. Yes, " with a burst of candor, "for herage, she does it mighty well. "

"Then what are you kickin' about?"

"I ain't kickin'. Who said I was kickin'? Only--well, all I say is lether do dishes and such, if she wants to, only--only--"

"Only what?"

"Only I ain't goin' to have her heavin' out hints about what I oughtto do. There's two skippers aboard this craft now and that's enough. By time!" with another burst, "that kid's a reg'lar born mother. Shemothers that cat and them dolls and the hens already, and I swan toman I believe she'd like to adopt me. I ain't goin' to be mothered andhinted at to do this and that and put to bed and tucked in by no kid. I'll heave up my job first. "

He had been on the point of heaving up his job ever since the days whenhe sailed as cook aboard Captain Shadrach's schooner. When the Captainretired from the sea for the last time, and became partner and fellowshopkeeper with Zoeth, Isaiah had retired with him and was engaged tokeep house for the two men. The Captain had balked at the idea of afemale housekeeper. 

"Women aboard ship are a dum nuisance, " he declared. "I've carried 'emcabin passage and I know. Isaiah Chase is a good cook, and, besides, ifthe biscuits are more fit for cod sinkers than they are for grub, Ican tell him so in the right kind of language. We don't want no womansteward, Zoeth; you hear ME!"

Zoeth, although the Captain's seafaring language was a trial to hisgentle, churchly soul, agreed with his partner on the main point. Hisexperience with the other sex had not been such as to warrant furtherexperiment. So Isaiah was hired and had been cook and steward at theSouth Harniss home for many years. But he made it a practice to asserthis independence at frequent intervals, although, as a matter of fact, he would no more have dreamed of really leaving than his friends andemployers would of discharging him. Mr. Chase was as permanent a fixturein that house as the ship's chronometer in the dining-room; and that wasscrewed to the wall. 

And, in spite of his grumbling, he and Mary-'Gusta were rapidly becomingfast friends. Shadrach and Zoeth also were beginning to enjoy hercompany, her unexpected questions, her interest in the house and thestore, and shrewd, old-fashioned comments on persons and things. She wasa "queer young-one"; they, like the people of Ostable, agreed on thatpoint, but Mr. Hamilton was inclined to think her ways "sort of takin'"and the Captain admitted that maybe they were. What he would not admitwas that the girl's visit, although already prolonged for a fortnight, was anything but a visit. 

"I presume likely, " hinted Zoeth, "you and me'll have to give the Judgesome sort of an answer pretty soon, won't we? He'll be wantin' to knowafore long. "

"Know? Know what?"

"Why--why whether we're goin' to say yes or no to what Marcellus askedus in that letter. "

"He does know. Fur's I'm consarned, he knows. I spoke my mind plainenough to pound through anybody's skull, I should think. "

"Yes--yes, I know you did. But, Shadrach, if she don't stay here forgood where will she stay? She ain't got anybody else to go to. "

"She is stayin', ain't she? She--she's makin' us a visit, same as I saidshe could. What more do you want? Jumpin' fire! This fix is your doin'anyway. 'Tain't mine. If you had paid attention to what I said, thechild wouldn't have been here at all. "

"Now, Shadrach! You know you was the one that would fetch her over thatvery day. "

"Oh, blame it onto me, of course!"

"I ain't blamin' anybody. But she's here and we've got to decide whetherto send her away or not. Shall we?"

They were interrupted by Mary-'Gusta herself, who entered the barn, where the discussion took place, a doll under one arm and a very seriousexpression on her face. 

"Hello!" hailed Zoeth. "What's the matter?"

Mary-'Gusta seated herself upon an empty cranberry crate. The partnershad a joint interest in a small cranberry bog and the crate was one ofseveral unused the previous fall. 

"There's nothin' the matter, " she said, solemnly. "I've been thinkin', that's all. "

"Want to know!" observed the Captain. "Well, what made you do anythingas risky as that?"

Mary-'Gusta's forehead puckered. 

"I was playin' with Jimmie Bacheldor yesterday, " she said, "and he mademe think. "

Abner Bacheldor was the nearest neighbor. His ramshackle dwelling was aneighth of a mile from the Gould-Hamilton place. Abner had the reputationof being the meanest man in town; also he had a large family, of whichJimmie, eight years old, was the youngest. 

"Humph!" sniffed Captain Shad. "So Jimmie Bacheldor made you think, eh?I never should have expected it from one of that tribe. How'd he do it?"

"He asked me about my relations, " said Mary-'Gusta, "and when I said Ihadn't got any he was awful surprised. He has ever so many, sisters andbrothers and aunts and cousins and--Oh, everything. He thought 'twasdreadful funny my not havin' any. I think I'd ought to have some, don'tyou?"

The partners, looking rather foolish, said nothing for a moment. ThenZoeth muttered that he didn't know but she had. 

"Yes, " said Mary-'Gusta, "I--I think so. You see I'm--I mean I was astepchild 'long as father was here. Now he's dead and I ain't eventhat. And I ain't anybody's cousin nor nephew nor niece. I justain't anything. I'm different from everybody I know. And--and--" verysolemnly--"I don't like to be so different. "

Her lip quivered as she said it. Sitting there on the cranberry crate, hugging her dolls, she was a pathetic little figure. Again the partnersfound it hard to answer. Mr. Hamilton looked at the Captain and thelatter, his fingers fidgeting with his watchchain, avoided the look. Thegirl went on. 

"I was thinking, " she said, "how nice 'twould have been if I'd had a--abrother or somebody of my very own. I've got children, of course, butthey're only dolls and a cat. They're nice, but they ain't real folks. I wish I had some real folks. Do you suppose if--if I have to go tothe--the orphans' home, there'd be anybody there that would be myrelation? I didn't know but there might be another orphan there whodidn't have anybody, same as me, and then we could make believe wewas--was cousins or somethin'. That would be better than nothin', wouldn't it?"

Zoeth stepped forward and, bending over, kissed her cheek. "Never youmind, Mary-'Gusta, " he said. "You ain't gone there yet and afore you domaybe Cap'n Shad and I can think up some relations for you. "

"Real relations?" asked Mary-'Gusta, eagerly. 

"Well, no, not real ones; I'm afraid we couldn't do that. But whenit comes to make-believe, that might be different. " He hesitated aninstant, glanced at the Captain, and then added: "I tell you whatyou do: you just pretend I'm your relation, a--well, an uncle, that'sbetter'n nothin'. You just call me 'Uncle Zoeth. ' That'll be a start, anyhow. Think you'd like to call me 'Uncle Zoeth'?"

Mary-'Gusta's eyes shone. "Oh, yes!" she cried. "Then I could tell thatJimmie Bacheldor I had one relation, anyhow. And shall I call Cap'nGould 'Uncle Shadrach'?"

Zoeth turned to his companion. "Shall she, Shadrach?" he asked, with amischievous smile. 

If it had not been for that smile the Captain's reply might have beendifferent. But the smile irritated him. He strode to the door. 

"Zoeth Hamilton, " he snapped, "how long are you goin' to set here? Ifyou ain't got anything else to attend to, I have. I'm goin' up to thestore. It's pretty nigh eight o'clock in the mornin' and that storeain't open yet. "

"Want to come along, Mary-'Gusta?" asked Zoeth. "She can come, can'tshe, Shad?"

"Yes, yes, course she can, " more genially. "Cal'late there's some ofthose sassafras--checkerberry lozengers left yet. Come on, Mary-'Gusta, if you want to. "

But the child shook her head. She looked wistful and a trifledisappointed. 

"I--I guess maybe I'd better stay here, " she said. "I ought to see toMinnehaha's sore throat. I'm goin' to put some red flannel 'round it;Mr. Chase says he cal'lates he knows where there is some. Good-by, UncleZoeth. Good-by--er--Cap'n Gould. "

The partners did not converse on the way to the store. Zoeth made anattempt, but Shadrach refused to answer. He was silent and, for him, grumpy all the forenoon. Another fortnight passed before the subjectof the decision which must, sooner or later, be given Judge Baxter wasmentioned by either of the pair. 

CHAPTER VI

Mary-'Gusta was growing accustomed to the life in the South Harnisshome. She found it a great improvement over that which she had knownon Phinney's Hill at Ostable. There was no Mrs. Hobbs to nag and findfault, there were no lonely meals, no scoldings when stockings weretorn or face and hands soiled. And as a playground the beach was awonderland. 

She and Jimmie Bacheldor picked up shells, built sand forts, skippedflat stones along the surface of the water at high tide, and picked upscallops and an occasional quahaug at low water. Jimmie was, generallyspeaking, a satisfactory playmate, although he usually insisted uponhaving his own way and, when they got into trouble because of thisinsistence, did not permit adherence to the truth to obstruct the pathto a complete alibi. Mary-'Gusta, who had been taught by the belovedMrs. Bailey to consider lying a deadly sin, regarded her companion'slapses with alarmed disapproval, but she was too loyal to contradict andmore than once endured reproof when the fault was not hers. She had hadfew playmates in her short life and this one, though far from perfect, was a joy. 

They explored the house together and found in the big attic and thestuffy, shut-up best parlor the most fascinating of treasure hordes. Theformer, with its rows of old trunks and sea chests under the low eaves, the queer garments and discarded hats hanging on the nails, the duskycorners where the light from the little windows scarcely penetrated evenon a sunny May afternoon, was the girl's especial Paradise. Here shecame to play by herself on rainy days or when she did not care forcompany. Her love of make-believe and romance had free scope here andwith no Jimmie to laugh and make fun of her imaginings she pretended toher heart's content. Different parts of that garret gradually, in hermind, came to have names of their own. In the bright spot, under thenorth window, was Home, where she and the dolls and David--when thecat could be coaxed from prowlings and mouse hunts to quiet andslumber--lived and dined and entertained and were ill or well or happyor frightened, according to the day's imaginative happenings. SometimesHome was a castle, sometimes a Swiss Family Robinson cave, sometimesa store which transacted business after the fashion of Hamilton andCompany. And in other more or less fixed spots and corners were Europe, to which the family voyaged occasionally; Niagara Falls--Mrs. Bailey'shoneymoon had been spent at the real Niagara; the King's palace; the denof the wicked witch; Sherwood Forest; and Jordan, Marsh and Company'sstore in Boston. 

Jimmie Bacheldor liked the garret well enough, but imagination was nothis strongest quality and the best parlor had more charms for him. In that parlor were the trophies of Captain Shadrach's seafaringdays--whales' teeth, polished and with pictures of ships upon them; themodel of a Chinese junk; a sea-turtle shell, flippers, head and all, exactly like a real turtle except, as Mary-'Gusta said, 'it didn't haveany works'; a glass bottle with a model of the bark Treasure Seekerinside; an Eskimo lance with a bone handle and an ivory point; acocoanut carved to look like the head and face of a funny old man; aCuban machete; and a set of ivory chessmen with Chinese knights andkings and queens, all complete and set out under a glass cover. 

The junk and the lance and the machete and the rest had a fascinationfor Jimmie, as they would have had for most boys, but for him theparlor's strongest temptation lay in the fact that the children wereforbidden to play there. Zoeth and the Captain, having been brought upin New England families of the old-fashioned kind, revered their parloras a place too precious for use. They, themselves, entered it notoftener than three times a year, and Isaiah went there only when hefelt inclined to dust, which was not often. Shadrach had exhibited itstreasures to the children one Sunday morning when Zoeth was at church, but he cautioned them against going there by themselves. "You'd beliable to break somethin', " he told them, "and some of them things inthere you couldn't buy with money. They've been brought from pretty mucheverywheres in creation, those things have. "

But, in spite of the warning, or because of it, Jimmie was, as Isaiahwould have said, "possessed" to visit that parlor. He coaxed and teasedand dared Mary-'Gusta to take advantage of the steward's stepping out ofthe house or being busy in the kitchen to open that parlor door and goin with him and peep at and handle the treasures. Mary-'Gusta protested, but young Bacheldor called her a coward and declared he wouldn't playwith cowards and 'fraid-cats, so rather than be one of those detestablecreatures she usually swallowed her scruples and followed the tempter. It was a risk, of course, but a real adventure; and, like manyadventurers, the pair came to grief. They took David into the parlor andthe cat wriggled from its owner's arms, jumped upon the table, knockedthe case containing the chessmen to the floor, and not only broke theglass but decapitated one of the white knights. 

Even the mild Mr. Hamilton was incensed when Isaiah told the newsat supper time. And Captain Shad, who had bought those chessmen atSingapore from the savings of a second mate's wages, lost patienceentirely. 

"Didn't I tell you young-ones not to go into that parlor?" he demanded. 

"Yes, sir, " admitted Mary-'Gusta, contritely. 

"Yes, by fire, I did! And you went just the same. "

"Yes, sir. "

"And you fetched that everlastin'--er--Goliath in there, too. Don't youknow you've been a bad girl?"

"Ye--yes, sir. "

Zoeth protested. "She ain't a bad girl, Shadrach, " he said. "You knowshe ain't. "

"Well--er--maybe she ain't, generally speakin'. I cal'late 'twas thatBacheldor brat that was responsible; but just the same I ain't goin'to have it happen any more. Mary-'Gusta, if you and thatconsarned--what's-his-name--Jimmie--go into that parlor again, unlessIsaiah or one of us are with you, I--I--by the jumpin' Judas, me andZoeth won't let you go to the Sunday school picnic. There! I mean thatand so does Zoeth. Shut up, Zoeth! You do mean it, too. You know mightywell either your dad or mine would have skinned us alive if we'd donesuch a thing when we was young-ones. And, " turning to the culprit, "ifyou fetch that cat in there, I'll--I'll--I don't know what I'll do. "

The Sunday school picnic was to be held on the second Saturday inJune and Mary-'Gusta wished to attend it. She had never been to a realpicnic, though the other children in Ostable had described such outingsin glowing colors. Now, although she, a visitor, was not a regularmember of the South Harniss Methodist Sunday school, the superintendentpersonally had invited her to go and Zoeth and the Captain had giventheir consent. Not to go would be a heart-breaking calamity. She finallyresolved to be very, very good and obedient from that time on. 

But good resolutions are broken occasionally, even by grown-ups, and inchildhood much can be forgotten in nine days. So, on the afternoon ofthe tenth day, which was the day before the picnic, Mary-'Gusta walkingalone in the field which separated the Gould-Hamilton property from thatof Abner Bacheldor, Jimmie's father--Mary-'Gusta, walking in that field, was depressed and melancholy. Her state of mind was indicated by thefact that she had left all her dolls, even Rose and Rosette, at home. She felt guilty and wicked and conscience-stricken. She had been a badgirl; only one other knew how bad she had been and he, being guiltylikewise, would not betray her. But at home Isaiah Chase was, as hesaid, "heatin' himself to a bile" baking apple turnovers for her totake to the picnic. And Captain Shadrach had announced his intentionof bringing her, from the store, candy and bananas to go into the lunchbasket with the turnovers and sandwiches and cake. And the Captain hadthat very day called her a good girl. If he only knew!

There had been a flurry of excitement in the kitchen just after dinner. Mr. Bacheldor had appeared at the door with the request that he might"borrer the loan of Cap'n Gould's shotgun. " The day before, at a quarterafter four--Mr. Bacheldor was certain as to the time because he had been"layin' down two or three minutes on the sofy afore goin' out to look atsome wood there was to cut in the shed, and I'd just got up and lookedat the clock afore I looked out of the settin'-room winder"--looking outof that window he had seen a cat running from his henyard with one ofhis recently hatched Plymouth Rock chickens in its mouth. 

"If I'd had a gun then, " declared Abner, "I could have blowed thecritter to thunder-and-gone. But I'll get him next time. Let me have thegun, will you, Isaiah? I know Shad'll say it's all right when you tellhim. "

That shotgun was a precious arm. It had been given to the Captain yearsbefore by the officers of a sinking schooner, whom Shadrach's boat'screw, led by Shadrach himself, had rescued at a big risk off the GreatSouth School. It had the Captain's name, with an inscription and date, on a silver plate fastened to the stock. Isaiah was not too willing tolend it, but chicken stealing is a capital offense in South Harniss, as it is in most rural communities, and the cat caught in the act issummarily executed. 

So Mr. Chase went to the Captain's room and returned with the gun. 

"There you be, Ab, " he said. "Hope you get the critter. "

"Oh, I'll get him all right, don't you fret. Say, Isaiah--er--er--" Mr. Bacheldor hesitated. "Say, " he went on, "you couldn't let me have two orthree cartridges, could you? I ain't got none in the house. "

Isaiah looked more doubtful than ever, but he brought the cartridges. After making sure, by inquiry and inspection, that they were loaded, theborrower started to go. 

"Oh, I say, Ab, " Mr. Chase called after him; "know whose cat 'twas?"

Mr. Bacheldor did not appear to hear, so the question was repeated. Abner answered without turning. 

"I know, " he declared. "I know all right, " and hurried on. Isaiah lookedafter him and sniffed disdainfully. 

"Anybody on earth but that feller, " he said, "would have been ashamedto beg cartridges after beggin' the gun, but not Ab Bacheldor, no sir!Wonder he didn't want to borrer my Sunday hat to practice shootin' at. "

Mary-'Gusta considered shooting a cat the height of cruelty anddreadfulness but she was aware of the universal condemnation of chickenstealing and kept her thought to herself. Besides, she had her ownwickedness to consider. 

She walked slowly on across the field, bound nowhere in particular, thinking hard and feeling very wretched and miserable. The pleasure ofthe next day, the day she had been anticipating, was spoiled alreadyfor her. If she went to that picnic without making a full and freeconfession she knew she would feel as mean and miserable as she wasfeeling now. And if she did confess, why then--

Her meditations were interrupted in a startling manner. She was midwayof the field, upon the other side of which was a tumbledown stone wall, and a cluster of wild cherry trees and bayberry bushes marking theboundary of the Bacheldor land. From behind the wall and bushes soundedthe loud report of a gun; then the tramp of running feet and an excitedshouting:

"You missed him, " screamed a voice. "You never hit him at all. There hegoes! There he goes! Give him t'other barrel quick!"

Mary-'Gusta, who had been startled nearly out of her senses by the shotand the shouting, stood perfectly still, too surprised and frightenedeven to run. And then out of the bushes before her darted a scaredtortoise-shell cat, frantically rushing in her direction. The cat wasDavid. 

"He's hidin' in them bushes, " shouted the voice again. "Stay where yoube, Pop. I'll scare him out and then you give it to him. "

Mary-'Gusta stood still no longer. The sight of her idolized pet runningfor his life was enough to make her forget fright and everything else. She too ran, but not toward home. 

"David!" she screamed. "Oh, David! Come here! David!"

David may have recognized the voice, but if so the recognition made nodifference. The cat kept straight on. The girl ran across its path. It dodged and darted into a beachplum thicket, a cul-de-sac of tangledbranches and thick grass. Before the animal could extricate itselfMary-'Gusta had seized it in her arms. It struggled and fought forfreedom but the child held it tight. 

"David!" she panted. "Oh, don't, David! Please be still! They shan'thurt you; I won't let 'em. Please!"

Through the bushes above the wall appeared the freckled face ofCon--christened Cornelius--Bacheldor. Con was Jimmie's elder brother. 

"He must have got through, " he shouted. "He--no, there he is. She's gothim, Pop. Make her put him down. "

Mr. Abner Bacheldor crashed through to his son's side. He was carrying agun. 

"You put that cat down, " screamed Con, threateningly. 

Mary-'Gusta said nothing. Her heart was beating wildly but she held thestruggling David fast. 

"It's that kid over to Shad Gould's, " declared Con. "Make her give you ashot, Pop. "

Mr. Abner Bacheldor took command of the situation. 

"Here, you!" he ordered. "Fetch that critter here. I want him. "

Still Mary-'Gusta did not answer. She was pale and her small kneesshook, but she neither spoke nor moved from where she stood. And hergrip upon the cat tightened. 

"Fetch that cat here, " repeated Abner. "We're goin' to shoot him; he'sbeen stealin' our chickens. "

At this accusation and the awful threat accompanying it, Mary-'Gustaforgot her terror of the Bacheldors, of the gun, forgot everythingexcept her pet and its danger. 

"I shan't!" she cried frantically. "I shan't! He ain't! He's my cat andhe don't steal chickens. "

"Yes, he does, too, " roared Con. "Pop and I see him doin' it. "

"You didn't! I don't believe it! When did you see him?"

"Yesterday afternoon. We see him, didn't we, Pop?"

"You bet your life we did, " growled Abner. "And he was on my land againjust now; comin' to steal more, I cal'late. Fetch him here. "

"I--I shan't! He shan't be shot, even if he did steal 'em. And I knowhe didn't. If you shoot him I'll--I'll tell Uncle Zoeth and--and Cap'nGould. And I won't let you have him anyhow. I won't, " with savagedefiance. "If you shoot him you'll have to shoot me, too. "

Con climbed over the wall. "You just wait, Pop, " he said. "I'll take himaway from her. "

But his father hesitated. There were certain reasons why he thought itbest not to be too arbitrary. 

"Hold on, Con, " he said. "Look here, sis, I'm sorry to have to kill yourcat, but I've got to. He steals chickens and them kind of cats has to beshot. I see him myself yesterday afternoon. I told Isaiah Chase myselfthat . . . Why, you was there and heard me! You heard me tell how I waslookin' out of the winder at quartet past four and see that cat--"

Mary-'Gusta interrupted. Her expression changed. She was stilldreadfully frightened but in her tone was a note of relief, of confidenttriumph. 

"You didn't see him, " she cried. "It wasn't David; it wasn't this catyou saw. I KNOW it wasn't. "

"Well, I know it was. Now don't argue no more. You fetch that cat hereor I'll have Con take him away from you. Hurry up!"

"I know it wasn't David, " began Mary-'Gusta. Then, as Con started in herdirection, she turned and ran, ran as hard as she could, bearing Davidin her arms. Con ran after her. 

It was the cat that saved the situation and its life at the same time. Mary-'Gusta was near the edge of the pine grove and Con was close at herheels. David gave one more convulsive, desperate wriggle, slid from thegirl's arms and disappeared through the pines like a gray projectile. 

Mary-'Gusta collapsed on the grass and burst into frightened, hystericalsobs. Con took one or two steps after the flying cat and gave up thechase. Mr. Bacheldor, from behind the wall, swore emphatically and atlength. 

"Come here, Con, you fool, " he yelled, when the expression of his truefeelings had reached a temporary end. "Come here! let the kid alone. We'll get into trouble if we don't. As for that dummed cat, we'll gethim next time. He'll see his finish. Come on, I tell you. "

Con reluctantly rejoined his parent and the pair departed, mutteringthreats. Mary-'Gusta, the tears running down her cheeks, ran home tofind David and plead with Mr. Chase for her pet's safety and protectionfrom its persecutors. But Isaiah had gone up to the store on an errand. David, however, was crouching, a trembling heap, under the kitchenstove. The girl pulled him out, fled with him to the garret, and there, with the door locked, sat shivering and sobbing until Captain Shad camehome for supper that night. 

The Captain's first question when he arrived was concerningMary-'Gusta's whereabouts. Isaiah said he had not seen her for two hoursor more. And just then the child herself appeared, entering the kitchenfrom the door leading to the back stairs. 

"Hello, Mary-'Gusta!" hailed Shadrach. "Thought you was lost. Supper'sabout ready to put on the table. Why, what's the matter? Been cryin', ain't you?"

Mary-'Gusta went straight to him and clutched his hand. "Please, Cap'nGould, " she begged, "will you come into the sittin'-room a minute? I--Iwant to ask you somethin'. I want you to do somethin' for me, will you?"

"Sartin sure I will. What is it?"

Mary-'Gusta glanced at Isaiah's face. "I'd--I'd rather tell you, justyou alone, " she said. "Please come into the sittin'-room. "

She tugged at his hand. Much puzzled, he followed her through thedining-room and into the sitting-room. 

"Well, Mary-'Gusta, " he said, kindly, "now what is it? What's the bigsecret?"

Mary-'Gusta closed the door. She was very solemn and her lip quiveredbut she did not hesitate. 

"It's about David, " she said. "Somethin's happened to David. I--I'mgoin' to tell you about it, Cap'n Gould. "

She told of her adventure and of David's peril. Shadrach listened. Whenhe heard of the accusation which was the cause of the affair he shookhis head. 

"My, my!" he exclaimed. "That's pretty bad, that is. I'd hate to haveyour cat killed, Mary-'Gusta, land knows I would. But if the critter's achicken thief--"

"But he ain't! I KNOW he ain't!"

"Humph! You can't always tell, you know cats are cats and--"

"But I know David wasn't the cat that did it. I KNOW he wasn't"

"Oh, you know, do you. Hm! you do seem pretty sartin, that's a fact. Howdo you know?"

The girl looked at him. "Please, Cap'n Gould, " she said, "I--I'd rathertell you over to Mr. Bacheldor's. That's what I wanted to ask you; won'tyou please go right over to Mr. Bacheldor's with me? I--I'll tell youhow I know when we're there. "

Captain Shadrach was more puzzled than ever. "You want me to go to AbBacheldor's with you?" he repeated. "You want to tell me somethin' overthere? Why not tell me here?"

"'Cause--'cause Mr. Bacheldor thinks David did it and he'll kill him. He said he would. I want HIM to know David wasn't the one. And if, ifyou're there when he knows, he'll know YOU know he knows and he won'tdast shoot at David any more. Please come, Cap'n Gould. Please, rightaway. "

Shadrach tugged at his beard. "Humph!" he muttered. "There's more'knows' in that than there is knots in a snarled fish line. You want meas a witness, nigh's I can make out. Is that it?"

"Yes, sir. Will you go with me right off?"

"Right off, eh? Can't it wait till after supper?"

"I--I don't want any supper. PLEASE!"

So supper was postponed, in spite of Isaiah's grumblings, and theCaptain and Mary-'Gusta started forthwith for the home of their nearestneighbor. Mr. Chase, his curiosity aroused, would have asked a dozenquestions, but Mary-'Gusta would neither answer nor permit Shadrach todo so. 

The Bacheldor family were at supper when the callers arrived. Abnerhimself opened the door and he looked rather embarrassed when he saw thepair on the steps. Captain Shad did not wait for an invitation to enter;he walked in and Mary-'Gusta followed him. 

"Now then, Ab, " said the Captain, briskly, "what's this about our catstealin' your chickens?"

Mr. Bacheldor and Con, separately and together, burst into a tirade ofinvective against the offending David. 

"That's all right, that's all right, " broke in the Captain, crisply. "Ifthat cat stole your chicken it ought to be shot. But are you sure of thecat? Do you know ours did it? This girl here says 'twasn't ours at all. "

"I know a dum sight better, " began Abner, savagely. But this time it wasMary-'Gusta who interrupted. 

"Cap'n Gould, " she said, "please ask him what time it was yesterdayafternoon when he saw the cat run off with the chicken. "

Bacheldor did not wait to be asked. 

"'Twas quarter-past four yesterday afternoon, " he declared. "I know thetime. "

"I don't see what the time's got to do with it, " put in Shadrach. 

"But it's got everything to do with it, " urged Mary-'Gusta. "Honesttruly it has. "

"Oh, it has, eh? Why?"

"'Cause--'cause--Ask him if he's sure?"

Again Abner did not wait. "Course I'm sure, " he replied. "I told IsaiahChase--yes, and I told that young-one, too--that I looked at the clockjust afore I looked out of the window and see the critter in the veryact. Yes, and Con see him too. "

Mary-'Gusta stamped her foot in triumph. "Then it wasn't David, "she said. "It wasn't David at all. 'Twas somebody else's cat, Mr. Bacheldor. "

"Somebody else's nothin'! Don't you suppose I know--"

"Hold on! Heave to, Ab. Mary-'Gusta, how do you know 'twasn't our cat?"

"'Cause--'cause David was with me from four o'clock till most five;that's how. He was in the--in our house with me. So, " triumphantly, "hecouldn't have been anywhere else, could he?"

Con and his father both began a protest, but Shadrach cut it short. 

"Keep still, for mercy sakes, " he ordered. "This ain't Shoutin'Methodist camp meetin'. Let's get soundin's here. Now, Mary-'Gusta, yousay the cat was with you from four till five; you're sure of that?"

"Yes, sir. I know because Mr. Chase had gone out and we knew he wouldn'tbe back until five 'cause he said he wouldn't. So we looked at the clockbefore we went in. "

"Went in? Went in where?"

The girl hung her head. It was evident that the answer to this questionwas one she dreaded to make. But she made it, nevertheless. 

"Before we went into--into the parlor, " she said, faintly. 

Captain Shad was the only one of her hearers who grasped the fullsignificance of this confession. No, there was one other, and he turnedred and then white. 

"The parlor?" repeated the Captain, slowly. "The best parlor?"

"Ye-yes, sir. "

"Do you mean you went into the best parlor over to our house and--ANDTOOK THAT CAT IN WITH YOU?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Well, I swan to man! Did you forget what I told you would happen if youwent into that parlor again? And especially if you lugged that cat in?Did you forget that?"

"N-no, sir. I didn't forget it. You--you said I couldn't go to thepicnic. "

Shadrach shook his head. "Well, " he groaned, "if this don't beat thenation! What under the sun did you do it for?"

"'Cause--'cause we wanted to play pirates with--with the swords andthings, " faltered Mary-'Gusta. "And we took David 'cause he was goin' tobe one of the passengers on the ship we took. But, " with a sudden returnto the main point at issue, "that proves David wasn't the cat he saw, the one that stole his chicken. "

The Captain looked at her. "By fire, it does, that's right, " hemuttered. Abner Bacheldor roared in indignation. 

"It don't prove nothin', " he cried. "All it proves is that the kid's aliar. She's lyin' so's to save that dummed thief of a cat. All kids'lllie when they think they can make somethin' out of it. "

Shadrach grunted. "Maybe so, " he said, "but I ain't caught this one ina lie so far. And I doubt if she's lyin' now. Now, Mary-'Gusta, isthere any way you can prove you was in that parlor, and--what's hisname--David was there at the time you say? Is there?"

Again Mary-'Gusta hesitated. Her eyes wandered about the faces in theroom, until their gaze rested upon the face of Jimmie Bacheldor. AndJimmie looked white and scared. 

"N-no, sir, I--I guess not, " she faltered. 

"I guess not, too, " declared Con, with a sarcastic laugh. 

But the Captain was suspicious. He had seen the child's look. 

"Hold on, " he commanded. "There's more to this than a blind man couldsee through a board fence. Mary-'Gusta, was there anybody else exceptDavid in that parlor along with you? Was there?"

Mary-'Gusta looked at the floor. 

"Yes, sir, " she faltered. 

"So? I kind of had an idea there might be. Who was it?"

Again the look and then: "I--I ain't goin' to tell. "

Con laughed once more. "You bet she ain't, " he exclaimed. "She can't. The whole yarn's a lie. Don't pay no attention to it, Pop. "

Shadrach turned sharply in his direction. "I'M payin' attention to it, "he snapped, "and that's enough. So you ain't goin' to tell, Mary-'Gusta, eh? Remember now, if you do tell it'll prove your story's true andDavid'll come out on top. Think it over. "

Evidently Mary-'Gusta was thinking it over. Her eyes filled with tears, but she shook her head. 

The Captain looked down at her. "Keepin' mum, eh?" he said. "Well, that's all right. I cal'late we're pretty good guessers, some of us, anyway. Jim, " with a sudden look straight at the youngest member ofhis neighbor's family, who was fidgeting with his spoon and actingremarkably nervous, "what have you got to say? Have a good time in thatparlor playin' pirates, did you?"

Jimmie gasped. The suddenness of the attack knocked his defenses flat. He gurgled, stammered, and then broke into a wail of distress. 

"I--I didn't mean to, " he sobbed, wildly. "'Twas her. She said do it; Inever. I--I--"

"Why, Jimmie Bacheldor!" exclaimed Mary-'Gusta, shocked into protest byher fellow culprit's distortion of the truth. "How can you say so! Whata story! You know--"

"I guess he knows, " broke in Shadrach. "And I cal'late I know, too. Now then, Jim, what time was it when you looked at the clock? Shut up, Abner, let the boy answer. Tell us, Jim; nobody'll hurt you. "

"It--it was four o'clock, " hollered Jimmie, in agony. "I--I never doneit a purpose. I won't do so no more. "

"No, I don't cal'late you will. Cal'late you won't have a chance. Well, Ab, I guess we've proved our client's case. Next time you go out catshootin' you better be sure you're gunnin' for the right one. Come on, Mary-'Gusta. "

Con Bacheldor sprang to his feet. 

"Pop, " he shouted, "be you goin' to let 'em go this way? And that catstealin' our chickens right along. Ain't you goin' to tell 'em you'llkill the critter next time he comes on our land?"

Abner was silent. He seemed oddly anxious to see the last of hisvisitors. It was the Captain who spoke. 

"No, Con, " he said, crisply, "he ain't goin' to tell me that. And youlisten while I tell YOU somethin'. If that cat of ours gets hurt ordon't show up some time I'll know who's responsible. And then--well, then maybe I'LL go gunnin'. Good night, all hands. "

All the way back across the fields and through the grove the Captain wassilent. Mary-'Gusta clinging to his hand was silent too, dreading whatshe knew was sure to follow. When they entered the kitchen Shadrachturned to her:

"Well, Mary-'Gusta, " he said, "I'm glad your cat's turned out to be nochicken thief, but--but that don't alter what you did, does it?"

"No, sir, " stammered the girl. 

"No, I'm afraid it don't. I told you what would happen if you went intothat parlor, and you went just the same. I cal'late you know what toexpect, don't you?"

"Ye-yes, sir, " in a low tone. "You mean I can't go to the Sunday schoolpicnic. "

Shadrach cleared his throat. He was not enjoying this episode, as amatter of fact his unhappiness was almost as keen as the child's. But asa boy he had been reared in the old-fashioned way, and he felt that hehad a duty to perform. 

"I'm afraid that's what I mean, " he said, gravely. "Now set down andhave your supper. "

Mary-'Gusta tried hard to be brave, but the disappointment was toogreat. The tears streamed down her cheeks and she ran from the room. Shadrach strode after her. 

"Here!" he called. "Mary-'Gusta, where are you goin'? Come back and haveyour supper. "

But Mary-'Gusta did not come back. She was already on the stairs. 

"I--I don't want any supper, " she sobbed. "Please, oh, PLEASE don't makeme eat it. "

The Captain hesitated, turned back, and jerked his own chair to thetable. 

"Well, " he demanded brusquely, "the supper's here and somebody's got toeat it, I cal'late. Fetch it on, Isaiah! What are you starin' at me likethat for, you dumbhead?"

Isaiah brought in the supper. Then he demanded to know what the fuss wasall about. Shadrach told him. Isaiah's chief interest seemed to centeron the attempted shooting. 

"Why the son of a swab!" he cried, excitedly. "Of all the cheek I everheard of in my life that Abner Bacheldor's got the heft! To borrer aman's own gun--yes, and cartridges, too--to kill that man's own catwith! Of all the solid brass! He never told me 'twas our cat. All hewanted to know was could he borrer your gun and somethin' to load itwith. If I'd known--"

His employer interrupted him. "WHAT?" he roared. "Do you mean to saythat Ab Bacheldor came here and borrowed MY gun to--to do what he donewith?"

"Sartin sure he did. And only this very afternoon, too. "

"And did he know whose cat 'twas?"

"He said he did. Mary-'Gusta was here 'long with me when he come. Isays: 'Know whose cat 'tis?' and says he, 'I know all right!' I thoughthe acted kind of sheepish and funny. I--Here! where you goin'?"

The Captain was on his feet and his cap was in his hand. 

"Goin'!" he snarled. "I'm going to make another call on Abner. And, "with his hand on the latch, "if you hear somebody bein' murdered over inthat direction you needn't call the constable, neither. "

"But--but, hold on, Cap'n Shad! You ain't finished your own supper yetand Zoeth's waiting up to the store for you to come back so's he cancome down and get his. "

The reply was emphatic and, in its way, conclusive. 

"To the blue brimstone with the supper!" roared Shadrach. "It can waitand so can Zoeth. If he can't he can do the next best. "

He was absent for half an hour. When he returned Mr. Hamilton was in thedining-room. Shadrach entered, bearing the precious shotgun. He stood itcarefully in the corner. There was a satisfied look in his eye. 

"For goodness' sake, Shadrach!" exclaimed Zoeth, "what have you beenthinkin' of? There I was waitin' and waitin' and hankerin' and hankerin'and no you nor no supper. I had to lock up the store finally. 'Twaseither that or starve. I ain't a fault-finder, generally speakin', but Ihave to eat, same as other folks. "

His partner paid not the least attention. His first remark was in theform of a question addressed to Mr. Chase. 

"Look here, Isaiah, " he demanded, "did I understand you to say thatMary-'Gusta was with you when that sculpin come to borrow my gun?"

"Yup. She was here. "

"And she knew that he was goin' to shoot a cat with it?"

"Sartin, she heard him say so. "

Shadrach strode to the mantel, took from it a hand-lamp, lighted thelamp and with it in his hand walked from the room and ascended thestairs. Zoeth called after him, but he did not answer. 

He entered Mary-'Gusta's room. The child was in bed, the dolls besideher. She was not asleep, however. The tear stains on her cheeks and thedampness of the pillow showed how she had spent the time since leavingthe dining-room. 

Shadrach put the lamp upon the washstand, pulled a chair beside the bedand sat down. He took her hand in his. 

"Mary-'Gusta, " he said, gently, "you knew 'twas my gun that Ab Bacheldorwas tryin' to shoot David with?"

Mary-'Gusta moved her head up and down on the pillow. 

"Yes, sir, " she said. 

"You was here when he borrowed it?"

"Yes, sir. And then I knew it was yours when he had it there in thefield. I saw the silver name thing on the handle. It kind of shined inthe sun. "

"Um-hm. Yes, yes. I see. You knew it, of course. But you didn't tell me. Why on earth didn't you? Didn't you know that if I'd realized that swabhad borrered my gun to kill my cat that would have been enough? If thecritter had stole a million chickens 'twouldn't have made any differenceif I'd known THAT. The cheeky lubber! Well, he won't shoot at anythingof ours for one spell, I'll bet. But why didn't you tell me?"

Mary-'Gusta's answer was promptly given. 

"Why, 'cause, " she said, "that was just it. I knew if you knew that youwouldn't care whether David stole the chicken or not. And I wanted youto know he didn't. "

"Um, I see. But if you had told me you wouldn't have had to tell aboutthe parlor. I'D never asked a single question. "

"Ye-yes, sir; but I wanted you to know David doesn't steal chickens. "

Shadrach swallowed hard. "I see, " he said. "Yes, yes, I see. So just toclear that cat you was willin' to give up the picnic and everything. "

Mary-'Gusta sobbed: "I--I did want to go so, " she moaned. 

The Captain lifted her from the pillow and put his arm about her. 

"You ARE goin', " he declared, emphatically, "you just bet you're goin'. "

"Oh! Oh, am I? Am I really? I--I know I hadn't ought to. I was a badgirl. "

"You! You're a dummed good girl! The best and squarest--yes, and thespunkiest little girl I ever saw. You're a brick. "

"I'm awful sorry I went into the parlor, Cap'n Gould. "

"Blast the parlor! I don't care if you stay in there a week and smasheverything in it. And--and, see here, Mary-'Gusta, don't you call me'Cap'n Gould' any more. Call me 'Uncle Shad, ' will you?"

Just before bedtime that night Mr. Hamilton broached a subject which hadtroubled him all day. 

"Shadrach, " he said, timidly. "I--I guess I ought to tell you somethin'. I know you won't want to talk about it, but seems 's if I must tell you. I had a letter this morning from Judge Baxter. He says he can't waitmuch longer for an answer from us about Marcellus's girl. He's got toknow what we've decided to do with her. "

Shadrach, who was smoking, took his pipe from his mouth. 

"Well, give him the answer then, " he said, shortly. "You know what 'tis, well as I do. "

Zoeth looked troubled. 

"I know you don't want to keep her, " he said, "but--"

"Who said I didn't?"

"Who? Why, Shadrach Gould! You said--"

"I said a good many things maybe; but that's nothin'. You knew what Imeant as well as I did. "

"Why, Shadrach! You--you don't mean you ARE willin' to keep her--here, with us, for good? You don't mean THAT?"

The Captain snorted impatiently. "Don't be so foolish, Zoeth, " heprotested. "You knew plaguey well I never meant anything else. "

CHAPTER VII

The next day Captain Shadrach drove to Ostable and spent several hoursin consultation with Judge Baxter. Adjusting matters by correspondenceis a slow process at best, and the Captain, having surrenderedunconditionally, was not the man to delay. 

"I can settle more in ten minutes' talk, " he told his partner, "than thethree of us could in a month's letter-writin', especially if I had towrite any of the letters. I never was any hand to write letters; youknow that, Zoeth. And when I do write one the feller I send it to isliable to come around and ask me to read it 'cause he can't. Like as notI can't either, if it's had time to get cold, and there we are, rightwhere we started. No, I'll go and see the Judge and when I fetch porttonight there'll have been somethin' done. "

This prophecy was fulfilled. Before the Captain left Ostable for thehomeward drive a good deal had been done. Judge Baxter, in his capacityas administrator, had already been looking into the affairs of his lateclient and, as he had expected, those affairs were badly tangled. Whenthe outstanding debts were paid there would be little left, a thousandor two, perhaps, but certainly no more. 

"So there you are, Shadrach, " he said. "I'm mighty glad you and Zoethhave decided to keep the girl, but I'm afraid she'll come to you withvery little property of her own. If she is to have the good educationand all the rest that Marcellus wanted her to have I guess it'll be yourmoney that pays for it. That's the honest truth, and I think you oughtto know it. "

The Captain nodded. "That's all right, " he said. "I expected just aboutthat, account of what you said the day of the funeral. Me and Zoeth areabout, as fur from bein' rich as the ship's cat is from bein' skipper, but we've put by a little and the store fetches us in a decent livin'. We'll take the young-one and do our best by her. Land knows what thatbest'll be, " he added, with a dubious shake of the head. "Speakin' formyself, I feel that I'm about as competent to bring up a child as a clamis to fly. "

Baxter laughed. "Marcellus seemed confident that you and Hamilton wereperfectly suited to the job, " he said. 

"Um; yes, I know; Marcellus had confidence in a good many things, thestock market included. However, what is to be will be and we all have totake chances, as the feller that was just married said when he tackledhis wife's first mince pie. You get those guardian papers, whateverthey are, made out, and Zoeth and me'll sign 'em. As for the competentpart--well, " with a chuckle, "that child's pretty competent herself. I have a notion that, take it five or six years from now, it'll be herthat'll be bringin' us up in the way we should go. I feel a good deal asif I was signin' on for a long voyage with the chances that I'd finishmate instead of skipper. "

"Say, Judge, " he added, just before leaving for home, "there's onething more I'd like to say. 'Most everybody thinks Marcellus left hisstepdaughter a consider'ble sight of money, don't they?"

"Why, yes; I suppose they do. "

"All right, let 'em think so. 'Twill give 'em somethin' to talk about. They'll be guessin' how rich the child is instead of markin' off in thealmanac the days afore Zoeth and me head for the poorhouse. "

"Humph! I see. You don't care to have it known that you and your partnerare adopting and supporting her purely from motives of kindness andgenerosity. "

"Pooh! pooh! No generosity about it. Besides, Marcellus was kind andgenerous enough to us in the old days. Pity if we couldn't take ourtrick at the wheel now. "

The Judge smiled. "You're a good deal more willing to take that trickthan you were when I saw you last, Captain Shad, " he observed. "You seemto have changed your mind completely. "

The Captain grinned. "Well, yes, I have, " he admitted. "Maybe 'tain'tso big a change as you think; I have a habit of blowin' up a squall whenI'm gettin' ready to calm down. But, anyway, that young-one would changeanybody's mind. She's different from any girl of her age ever I saw. She's pretty as a little picture and sweet and wholesome as a--as asummer sweet apple. She don't pester, and she don't tease, and she don'tlie--no, sir, not even when I'd consider layin' the course a p'int ortwo from the truth a justifiable proceedin'. She's got inside my vest, somehow or 'nother, and I did think I was consider'ble of a hard-shell. She's all right, Mary-'Gusta is. I'm about ready to say 'Thank you' toMarcellus. "

And so it was settled, and Mary-'Gusta Lathrop was no longer a visitor, but a permanent member of the odd household at South Harniss. She wasdelighted when she heard the news, although, characteristically, shesaid very little beyond confiding to her two "uncles" that she wasgoing to be a good girl and not take David into the parlor again. Theremainder of her "things" and belongings were sent over by the Judgeand, in due time, the guardianship papers were signed. 

"There!" exclaimed Zoeth, laying down the pen. "That settles it, Ical'late. Now, Mary-'Gusta, you're our little girl, mine and your UncleShad's, for good and all. "

"Not quite so long as that, Zoeth, " put in the smiling Shadrach. "We'llhang on to her for a spell, I shouldn't wonder; but one of these days, a hundred years from now or such matter, there's liable to be agood-lookin' young feller sparkin' 'round here and he'll want to marryher and take her somewheres else. What'll you say when it comes to that, Mary-'Gusta?"

Mary-'Gusta thought it over. "If 'twas a hundred years from now, " shesaid, "I guess he wouldn't want me. "

The Captain laughed uproariously. "Well, maybe we can discount thathundred some for cash, " he admitted. "Make it twelve or fifteen years. Then suppose somebody--er--er--" with a wink at Zoeth--"suppose JimmieBacheldor, we'll say, comes and wants us to put you in his hands, what'll you say then?"

The answer was prompt enough this time. 

"I'll say no, " asserted Mary-'Gusta, with decision. "Jimmie Bacheldorhates to wash his hands; he told me so. "

All that summer she played about the house or at the store or on thebeach and, when the fall term began, the partners sent her to school. They were happy and proud men when Miss Dobson, the primary teacher, said the girl was too far advanced for the first class and entered herin the second. "Just natural smartness, " Captain Shadrach declared. "Natural smartness and nothin' else. She ain't had a mite of advantages, but up she goes just the same. Why, Teacher told me she considered her areg'lar parachute. "

"A parachute's somethin' that comes down, ain't it, " suggested Zoeth, remembering the balloon ascension he had seen at the county fair. 

"Humph! So 'tis. Seems as if 'twasn't parachute she said. 'Twas--'twas--"

"Parasol?" suggested Isaiah, who was an interested listener. 

"No, no; nor paralysis neither. Paragon, that's what 'twas. Teacher saidthat child was a paragon. "

"What's a paragon?" asked Mr. Chase. 

"I don't know. But it's what she is, anyway. "

The paragon continued to progress in her studies. Also she continued, more and more, to take an interest in the housework and the affairs ofher adopted uncles and Isaiah Chase. Little by little changes camein the life of the family. On one memorable Sunday Captain Shadrachattended church. It was the first time in a good many years and whetherthe congregation or Zoeth or the Captain himself was the more astonishedat the latter's being there is a question. Mary-'Gusta was not greatlyastonished. It was the result of careful planning on her part, planningwhich had as its object the relieving of Mr. Hamilton's mind. Zoethnever missed a Sunday service or a Friday night prayer meeting. And, being sincerely religious, he was greatly troubled because his friendand partner took little interest in such things. 

Shadrach's aversion to churches dated back to a sermon preached by aformer minister. The subject of that sermon was Jonah and the whale. TheCaptain, having been on several whaling voyages in his younger days, hadhis own opinion concerning the prophet's famous adventure. 

If the minister had been a younger and more tactful man the argumentwhich followed might have ended pleasantly and the break have beenavoided. But the clergyman was elderly, as set in his ways as theCaptain was in his, and the disagreement was absolute and final. 

"The feller is a regular wooden-head, " declared Shadrach, hotly. "I waswillin' to be reasonable; I was willin' to give in that this Jonah manmight have been out of his head and, after he was hove overboard andcast ashore, thought he'd been swallowed by a whale or somethin' or'nother. I picked up a sailor once who'd drifted around in a boat for aweek and he couldn't remember nothin' of what happened after the firstday or so. If you'd told him he'd been swallowed by a mackerel hewouldn't have said no. But I've helped kill a good many whales--yes, andI've helped cut 'em up, too--and I know what they look like inside. Noman, whether his name was Jonah or Jehoshaphat, could have lived threedays in a whale's stomach. How'd he breathe in there, eh? Cal'late thewhale had ventilators and a skylight in his main deck? How'd the whalelive all that time with a man hoppin' 'round inside him? Think I'd liveif I--if I swallowed a live mouse or somethin'? No, sir-ee! Eitherthat mouse would die or I would, I bet you! I've seen a whole parcelof things took out of a whale's insides and some of the things had beenalive once, too; but they wasn't alive then; they was in chunks and partdigested. Jonah wasn't digested, was he? And the whale wasn't deadof dyspepsy neither. That's what I told that minister. 'You try ityourself, ' I says to him. 'There's whales enough back of the Crab Ledge, twenty mile off Orham, ' said I. 'You're liable to run in sight of 'emmost any fair day in summer. You go off there and jump overboard sometime and see what happens. First place, no whale would swallow you; nextplace, if it did 'twould chew you or sift you fine first; and, thirdplace, if you was whole and alive that whale would be dead inside often minutes. You try it and see. ' Good fair offer, wasn't it? But didhe take it up? Not much. Said I was a scoffer and an infidel and didn'tknow anything about Scripture! 'I know about whales, anyhow, ' I toldhim. And he slammed off and wouldn't speak to me again. Don't talk toME! I'll never go inside that meetin'-house again. "

And he never had until Mary-'Gusta coaxed him into it. She was a regularattendant at Sunday school, but on Sunday mornings in pleasant weathershe had been accustomed to take a walk with Shadrach. These walks theyboth enjoyed hugely, but one bright morning she announced that she wasnot going for a walk, but was going to church with Uncle Zoeth. Shadrachwas disappointed and astonished. 

"Land sakes! What's this mean?" he demanded. "Thought you liked to walkwith me. "

"I do. I like it very much. But I don't think it's fair for me to do itevery Sunday. Uncle Zoeth ALWAYS goes to church and he feels real bad'cause you don't go. He told me so. He says the church folks think youwon't go to Heaven when you die and that makes him feel dreadful. He'sgoin' to Heaven, you know. "

"Oh, he is, eh?"

"Of course. He couldn't help it, he's so good. Don't you think he'll goto Heaven, Uncle Shad?"

"Who? Zoeth? Sartin I do. If he don't, nobody will. "

"Wouldn't it make you feel bad if you was afraid he wouldn't go there?"

"Humph! Maybe so, but I ain't afraid. "

"I know, but he is afraid YOU won't. He thinks an awful lot of you; asmuch as you do of him, you know. Uncle Shad, I'm goin' to meetin' withUncle Zoeth this mornin', and I want you to go with us; will you?"

The Captain pulled his beard. 

"Look here, Mary-'Gusta, " he said. "What's all this about, anyway? Youdon't cal'late I'd take you walkin' Sundays if I thought 'twas wicked, do you?"

"No, sir; but Uncle Zoeth thinks not goin' to church is wicked. If youand I went to church with him 'twould please him ever so much. "

"Maybe so, but 'twould please you and me if he went walkin' with us. I've asked him times enough. Why can't he do what I want as well as mydoin' what he wants?"

"'Cause he thinks it's wrong. You don't think goin' to church is wrong, do you, Uncle Shad?"

Shadrach shook his head. "By fire!" he exclaimed. "You're a regularyoung lawyer, you are, Mary-'Gusta. Judge Baxter hasn't got you beatwhen it comes to makin' out a case. Look here, now; be honest; hadn'tyou rather go to walk with me than go to that meetin'-house?"

"Yes, sir, " frankly; "I'd rather. "

"Oh, you had, eh? But all the same you want us to give up our walk andgo to church every Sunday just to please Zoeth. Is that it?"

Mary-'Gusta took his hand. "No, sir, " she said shyly, "but I thoughtperhaps we could divide up. You and I could go with him one Sunday andto walk the next Sunday. That would be fair. I'm his little girl same asI am yours, Uncle Shad, ain't I?"

Shadrach was stumped, and he went to church that Sunday morning. Thesermon had nothing to do with Jonah or the whale, so his feelingswere not ruffled. Zoeth was mightily pleased and Mary-'Gusta was happybecause he was. The plan of alternate Sundays was adopted. It was butone instance of the "managing" quality which the girl possessed. Isaiahdeclared that she wound all hands around her little finger, but even heseemed to enjoy the winding. 

As she grew older Mary-'Gusta learned more and more concerning heruncles, their habits, their contrasting temperaments and their pasthistory. She learned a little of Hall and Company, the prosperous firmof which they had been partners, with Marcellus Hall, her stepfather, as the head. Isaiah told her a little concerning the firm: "No bigger onCape Cod, " he declared. She asked why it had not continued in business. Mr. Chase brusquely answered that it hadn't, that's all, and would notgive any particulars. She questioned the steward concerning Shadrachand Zoeth. The former had never married; that was funny; why hadn't he?Isaiah said he did not know. Hadn't Uncle Zoeth ever married, either?Yes, Zoeth had married. 

"Who did--" began Mary-'Gusta, but Isaiah cut short the catechizing. 

"You mustn't ask such questions, " he declared. 

"Why mustn't I?"

"'Cause you mustn't. Your uncles wouldn't like it a mite if they knewyou was pryin' into their affairs. You mustn't ever say a word aboutyour Uncle Zoeth's gettin' married. "

"Wouldn't he like me any more if I did?"

"No, you bet he wouldn't; he'd--I don't know's he wouldn't come to hateyou. And you mustn't say it to Cap'n Shad neither. "

The idea of being hated by Uncle Zoeth was a dreadful one andMary-'Gusta avoided the tabooed subject. But she thought about it a gooddeal. She noticed that in neither of the two lots in the cemetery, onewhere the Goulds were buried and the other the Hamiltons, was a stoneerected to the memory of the "beloved wife of Zoeth Hamilton, " althoughother beloved wives of the former generations were commemorated. Thisseemed odd. As her education progressed she read more and more and fromher reading she built up several imaginative romances with Zoeth as thehero, and as the heroines beautiful creatures who had died young, inshipwreck, probably, and whose names were not to be mentioned because. . . . She could not find a satisfactory solution of the because. Shipwreck or burial at sea she deduced from the fact of there being nograve in the cemetery. Mothers and fathers of several of her schoolmateshad been buried at sea. Perhaps the late Mrs. Hamilton had been soburied. But Zoeth had never been a seafaring man. 

One Saturday afternoon--she was about ten years old at the time--shewas in the garret. The garret had taken the place of the old surrey atOstable, and thither she retired when she wished to be alone to read, orplay, or study. This afternoon she was rummaging through the old trunksand sea chests in search of a costume for Rose. It was to be a masculinecostume, of course, for there was no feminine apparel in that garret, but in the games which the girl played when alone with her dolls, Rose, the largest of the family, was frequently obliged to change her sex withher raiment. 

Mary-'Gusta had ransacked these trunks and chests pretty thoroughly onprevious occasions, but this time she made a discovery. In an old trunkwhich had obviously belonged to Captain Shadrach she found a sort ofpocket on the under side of the lid, a pocket closing with a flap and acatch. In this pocket were some papers, old receipts and the like, and aphotograph. The photograph interested her exceedingly. It was yellow andfaded but still perfectly distinct. 

There was a large building standing on posts fixed in the sand, andbeyond it were wharves and a glimpse of schooners and the sea. Barrels, a good many barrels, were piled upon the wharves and at the end of thebuilding. Over the door was the sign, "Hall and Company, Wholesale FishDealers. "

This sign of itself was interesting enough. Evidently here was theplace where her stepfather and Captain Gould and Mr. Hamilton had donebusiness years before. But more interesting still was the group of menstanding on the platform under the sign. There were four of these men, dressed in clothes and hats which--especially the hats--looked queer andold-fashioned now. Two of the men Mary-'Gusta recognized, or thoughtshe did. They were Captain Shadrach and Mr. Hamilton. Much younger theylooked, of course; their hair was not gray and Zoeth wore a beard, whileShadrach had only a mustache. But, in spite of these things and theodd clothes they wore, she was sure she recognized them. And, havingrecognized them, she also recognized the man in the center of the groupas her stepfather, Captain Marcellus Hall. The fourth man, evidentlyyounger than the others, a handsome, square-shouldered chap in hisshirtsleeves, she did not know. 

She turned the photograph over. On its back was written:

 Firm of Hall and Company. Taken August 19th, 1877. Marcellus Hall Zoeth J. Hamilton Edgar S. Farmer Shadrach B. Gould. 

The names were in differing handwritings. Evidently each man had signedthe photograph. 

Mary-'Gusta scrutinized the photograph again. Then, with it in her hand, she descended to the kitchen. Isaiah was sitting in a chair by the stovereading a newspaper. 

"Mr. Chase, " said Mary-'Gusta, "who was Edgar S. Farmer?"

If that kitchen chair had been the never-to-be-forgotten piece offurniture with the music box beneath it and that box had started toplay, Isaiah could not have risen more promptly. He literally jumpedto his feet and the paper flew from his hands. He whirled upon thequestioner. 

"What?" he demanded. "What's that you said?"

He was pale, actually pale. Mary-'Gusta was frightened. 

"Why--why, I just asked--" she faltered, "I just asked who--who--WhatCAN be the matter, Mr. Chase?"

Isaiah waved his hand. "WHAT did you ask?" he demanded. 

"I asked--I asked who Edgar S. Farmer was, that's all. I didn't mean--Ididn't know--"

"Be still! Be still, for mercy sakes! What do you know about Ed Farmer?Who told you about him?"

The girl was more frightened than ever. Isaiah's next move did not tendto reassure her. He strode to the door, looked up the lane, and closedand locked the door before she could find words to answer. 

"Now, then, " he said, coming close to her and looking her straight inthe face, "who told you about Ed Farmer?"

"Nobody told me. Honest, they didn't. "

"Somebody must have told you; else how did you know?"

Mary-'Gusta hesitatingly held up the photograph. "It's written on this, "she said. 

Mr. Chase snatched it from her hand. He looked at the picture and thenat her. 

"It's written on the back, " went on the girl. 

Isaiah turned the photograph over. 

"Humph!" he said suspiciously. "I see. Who gave this to you?"

"Nobody gave it to me. I found it in an old trunk up in the attic. "

"Humph! You did, eh? Well, I swan to man! Have you showed it to anybodyelse but me?"

"No, sir. Honest, I haven't. I just found it this minute. "

"Well, I swan, that's lucky. 'Twas in a trunk, eh? Whose trunk?"

"One of Uncle Shad's, I guess. "

"Humph! I presume likely. Well, what made you ask about--about the oneyou did ask about?"

"I knew who the others were. I knew my father and Uncle Zoeth and UncleShad. But I didn't know who the Farmer one was. It says 'Firm of Halland Company, ' and all those names are signed. So I thought maybe Mr. Farmer was--"

"Never you mind who he was. He was a darned blackguard and his name ain'tmentioned in this house. That's all I can tell you and you mustn't askany more questions. Why, if your Uncle Zoeth--yes, or your Uncle Shadeither--was to hear you askin' about him--they'd--I don't know whatthey'd do. I'm goin' to tear this thing up. "

He would have torn the photograph across, but the girl seized his hands. 

"Oh, no, you mustn't, " she cried. "Please don't. It isn't mine. Itbelongs to Uncle Shad. You mustn't tear it--give it to me. "

Isaiah hesitated. "Give it to you?" he repeated. "What'll you do withit?"

"I'll put it right back where I found it. Truly, I will. I will, honest, Mr. Chase. "

Isaiah reflected. Then, and with considerable reluctance, he handed herthe photograph. 

"All right, " he said, "only be sure you do it. And look here, Mary-'Gusta, don't you ever touch it again and don't you ever telleither of your uncles or anybody else that you found it. You hear?"

Mary-'Gusta said that she heard. She ran to the garret and replaced thephotograph in the pocket of the trunk. She did not mention it again nordid Isaiah, but thereafter when her active imagination constructed alife romance with Mr. Zoeth Hamilton as its hero, that romance containeda villain also, and the villain's name was Edgar S. Farmer. And the firmof Hall and Company, her father's firm, had a fourth and most mysteriouspartner who was a blackguard. 

CHAPTER VIII

The summers and winters came and went and Mary-'Gusta's birthdayscame and went with them. She grew taller and more mature. Her place asassistant housekeeper was recognized now and even Isaiah consulted heron matters of household management. As for her uncles, she managed themwhether consulted or not. They took the place of the discarded dolls;she was too old for dolls now, although David was still mothered andpetted as much as ever. But when Uncle Zoeth had a cold it was she whoinsisted upon his wrapping up and saw that the wraps were ready, and ifUncle Shad was caught wearing socks with holes in them he was scoldedand supplied with fresh ones. She selected the clothes they should wearand insisted that they black their boots on Sunday. She helped them inthe store and it became occasionally possible for them to leave thatplace of business at the same time without engaging the services ofAnnabel. At first the partners, Captain Shadrach especially, protestedagainst the supervision and the innovations, but Mary-'Gusta tactfullyand diplomatically carried each point, and, after a time, the Captainceased to protest and accepted the inevitable almost with meekness. 

"No use, Zoeth, " he said on one occasion; "I've talked and talked butI'm wearin' the necktie just the same. I told her 'twas too good to wearweekdays and it ought to be saved for Sunday, but it ain't Sunday andI've got it on. She said 'twas becomin' and the one I've been wearin'wasn't and that she crocheted it for me and I don't know what all. Sohere I am. Got so I ain't even boss of my own neck. "

"Well, 'tis becomin', " observed Zoeth. "And she did crochet it for you. I noticed you didn't stop her tyin' it on you even while you was vowin'you wouldn't wear it. "

Shadrach sighed. "To think, " he groaned, "that I, Cap'n Shad Gould, aman that's handled as many fo'mast hands as I have, should come to beled around by the nose by a slip of a girl! By fire, I--I can't hardlybelieve it. It's disgraceful. "

Zoeth smiled. "Oh, be still, Shadrach, " he said. "You bear up under thedisgrace as well as anybody ever I saw. You know perfectly well you wastickled to death to have her tie that necktie on you. You was grinnin'like a Chessy cat all the time. "

"I wasn't, neither. I was chokin', not grinnin'. You don't know a grinfrom a choke. "

Zoeth changed the subject. "It's a mighty pretty necktie, " he declared. "There ain't anybody in this town, unless it's Philander Bearse's wife, that can crochet any better'n that girl of ours. "

Shadrach snorted. "What are you talkin' about?" he demanded. "EttaBearse never saw the day she could crochet like that. No, nor doanything else so well, either. Look at the way our candy trade haspicked up since Mary-'Gusta fixed up the showcase. You cal'lated 'twasall right the way 'twas afore and thought 'twas foolish to change, butshe changed it and--well, we've sold a third again as much candy. "

Zoeth's smile broadened. "Seems as if I remember your sayin' a fewthings about that showcase, " he remarked. "You gave me fits for lettin'her fuss with it. Annabel was in t'other day and she said folks thought'twas queer enough our lettin' a thirteen-year-old child run our storefor us. "

"She did, eh? She's jealous, that's what ails her. And to think of HERsayin' it. That Annabel's all brass, like a ship's spyglass. By thejumpin' Judas! I'm proud of that showcase and I'm proud of Mary-'Gusta. She don't make many mistakes: I can't remember of her makin' any. "

"Neither can I, not even in neckties. There, there, Shadrach! I knowyou. You talk about disgrace and such, but you're as crazy aboutMary-'Gusta as--as--"

"As you are, eh? Well, maybe I am, Zoeth. When she was first willed tous, as you might say, I used to wonder how we'd ever get along with her;now I wonder how we got along without her. If she should be--er--tookaway from us, I don't know--"

"Sshh, shh, Shadrach! Don't talk about anything like that. "

Mary-'Gusta was making good progress at school. At fourteen shegraduated from the grammar school and in the fall was to enter thehigh school. She was popular among her mates, although she never soughtpopularity. 

At picnics and church sociables she had always a small circle abouther and the South Harniss boys were prominent in that circle. ButMary-'Gusta, although she liked boys and girls well enough, never showeda liking for one more than the other and she was too busy at the houseand in the store to have her young friends hanging about. They botheredher, she said. As for having a particular friend of the other sex, which some of the girls in her class no older than she seemed to thinka necessary proof of being in their teens, she laughed at the idea. Shehad her adopted uncles and Isaiah to take care of and boy beaux weresilly. Talking about them as these girls did was sillier still. 

That summer--the summer preceding Mary-'Gusta's fifteenth birthday--wasthe liveliest South Harniss had known. The village was beginning to feelthe first symptoms of its later boom as a summer resort. A number ofcottages had been built for people from Boston and New York and Chicago, and there was talk of a new hotel. Also there was talk of several newstores, but Hamilton and Company were inclined to believe this merelytalk and did not worry about it. Their trade was unusually brisk and thedemand for Mary-'Gusta's services as salesgirl interfered considerablywith her duties as assistant housekeeper. 

One fine, clear July morning she came up to the store early in orderthat the partners might go down to the house for breakfast. They hadgone and she had just finished placing on the counters and in otherlikely spots about the store sheets of sticky fly paper. Flies are anuisance in South Harniss in midsummer and Captain Shad detested them. Just as the last sheet was laid in place, a young fellow and a girlcame in. Mary-'Gusta recognized them both. The girl was theseventeen-year-old daughter of a wealthy summer resident, a Mr. Keithfrom Chicago. The Keiths had a fine cottage on the bluff at the otherend of the village. The young chap with her was, so gossip reported, a college friend of her brother. His surname was prosaic enough, beingSmith, but his first name was Crawford and his home was somewhere in theFar West. He was big and good-looking, and the Boston papers mentionedhim as one of the most promising backs on the Harvard Freshman eleven. Next year, so the sporting writers opined, he would almost certainlymake the Varsity team. Most of Mary-'Gusta's feminine friends andacquaintances rated him "perfectly splendid" and regarded Edna Keithwith envious eyes. 

This morning both he and the Keith girl were arrayed in the gayest ofsummer regalia. Young Smith's white flannel trousers were carefullycreased, his blue serge coat was without a wrinkle, his tie and sockswere a perfect match, and his cap was of a style which the youth ofSouth Harniss might be wearing the following summer, but not this one. Take him "by and large, " as Captain Shadrach would have said, CrawfordSmith was an immaculate and beautiful exhibit; of which fact he, beingeighteen years of age, was doubtless quite aware. 

He and the Keith girl were, so Mary-'Gusta learned, a committee of twoselected to purchase certain supplies for a beach picnic, a combinationclambake and marshmallow toast, which was to take place over at SetuckitPoint that day. Sam Keith, Edna's brother, and the other members of theparty had gone on to Jabez Hedges' residence, where Jabez had promisedto meet them with the clams and other things for the bake. Edna and herescort, having made their purchases at Hamilton and Company's, were tojoin them at the "clam-man's. " Then the whole party was to go down tothe wharf and the sailboat. 

Miss Edna, who was a talkative damsel, informed Mary-'Gusta of thesefacts at once. Also she announced that they must hurry like everything. 

"You see, " she said, "we told Sam and the rest we'd be at the clam-man'sin ten minutes, and, if we're not there, Sam will be awfully cross. Hehates to wait for people. And we've been too long already. It's all yourfault, Crawford; you would stop to hear that fruit man talk. I told youyou mustn't. "

The "fruit man" was Mr. Gaius Small, and, although he stammered, he loved the sound of his own voice. The demand for a dozen orangesfurnished Gaius with subject sufficient for a lengthy monologue--"fortydrawls and ten stutters to every orange, " quoting Captain Shad again. 

"I told you you mustn't get him started, " went on Miss Keith, gushingly. "He'll talk forever if he has a chance. But you would do it. Asking himif he kept pomegranates and bread-fruit! The idea! I'm sure he doesn'tknow what a pomegranate is. You were SO solemn and he was SO ridiculous!I thought I should DIE. You really are the drollest person, CrawfordSmith! I don't know what I shall do with you. "

It was evident that her opinion of young Smith was not different fromthat of other young ladies of her age. Also that Crawford himself wasnot entirely unconscious of that opinion. At eighteen, to be set upona pedestal and worshiped, to have one's feeblest joke hailed as amasterpiece of wit, is dangerous for the idol; the effort of sustainingthe elevated position entails the risk of a fall. Crawford was buteighteen and a good fellow, but he had been worshiped a good deal. Hewas quite as sensible as other young chaps of his age, which statementmeans exactly that and no more. 

"Well, " he said, with a complacent grin, "we learned how to pronounce'pomegranate' at any rate. You begin with a pup-pup-pup, as if you werecalling a dog, and you finish with a grunt like a pig. I wish I hadasked him for a persimmon; then he'd have made a noise like a cat. "

Miss Keith, when she recovered from her spasm of merriment, declared hercompanion "perfectly killing. "

"But we must hurry, " she said. "We really must Crawford, you buy thethings. I should think of that fruit man and laugh all the time, I knowI should. "

She remained by the door and the young gentleman strolled to thecounter. He cast an amused glance about the store; its display of stockwas, thanks to Mary-'Gusta's recent efforts at tidiness, not quite theconglomerate mass it had been when the partners were solely responsible, but the variety was still strikingly obvious. 

"Humph!" observed Crawford; "I've forgotten what we came to buy, but I'msure it is here, whatever it is. Some emporium, this! Introduce me tothe proprietor, will you, Edna?"

Edna giggled. 

"She isn't the proprietor, " she said. "She is just the clerk, that'sall. Her name is--I've forgotten your name, dear. What is it?"

"Mary Lathrop, " replied Mary-'Gusta, shortly. She objected to beingaddressed as "dear" and she strongly objected to the patronizing tone inwhich it was uttered. Edna Keith was older than she, but not old enoughto patronize. 

"Oh, yes, so it is, " said the young lady. "But that isn't what everyonecalls you. They call you something else--something funny--Oh, I know!Mary-'Gusta, that's it. I knew it was funny. Mary-'Gusta, this is Mr. Smith. He wants to buy some things. And he's in a GREAT hurry. "

"Charmed, Mary-'Gusta, " said Mr. Smith. Mary-'Gusta did not appearcharmed. She asked him what he wanted. 

"Search ME, " said the young gentleman, cheerfully. "There was a list, wasn't there, Edna? You have it, I think. "

Edna produced the list, scrawled in pencil on the back of an envelope. Crawford looked it over. 

"Sam's writing isn't exactly print, " he observed, "but I can guess atit. Let's see--a pound of butter. Where's the butter department of thisBon Marche, Edna?"

Edna, after another convulsion, declared she didn't know. 

"No doubt Miss--er--Mary Jane knows, " went on her companion. "Why, yes, of course she does. Right there, behind the oilskin jacket. Removejacket, open door--behold, the icebox and the butter. Neat, compact, andconvenient. One pound only, Elizabeth Eliza. Thank you. "

"Her name isn't Elizabeth Eliza, " giggled Miss Keith. "Isn't he awful, Mary-'Gusta! You mustn't mind him. "

"I don't, " said Mary-'Gusta, promptly. "What else do you want?"

Crawford consulted the list. "The next item, " he said, "appears to bea--er--certain kind of ham. I blush to mention it, but I must. It isdeviled ham. Have you that kind of ham, Mary-'Gusta?"

Mary-'Gusta took the can of deviled ham from the shelf. Crawford shookhis head. 

"To think that one so young should be so familiar with ham of thatkind!" he said. "She didn't speak its name, though. Suppose I had askedyou what kind of ham you had, Miss--er--'Gusta how would you have gotaround it?"

Mary-'Gusta did not answer. She was very angry, but she was determinedthat her tormentor should not know it. 

"A young lady of few words, " commented Mr. Smith. "Next item appears tobe six boxes of marshmallows. Where is the marshmallow department, MaryJane?"

Mary-'Gusta hesitated. The tin boxes of marshmallows were on theshelf behind the counter under the candy case. But there was a freshassortment in an unopened packing box in the back room, a box which hadjust come from the wholesale confectioner's in Boston. Her Uncle Zoethhad expressed a fear that those beneath the counter were rather stale. 

Miss Keith fidgeted. "Oh, dear!" she exclaimed. "This is SO slow. I knowSam and the rest won't wait for us at the clam-man's much longer. "

Her companion whistled. "Is the word 'hurry' in the South Harnissdictionary, Edna?" he inquired. "How about it, Mary Jane?"

Mary-'Gusta was determined not to hurry. This superior young man wishedher to do so and that was reason sufficient for delay. 

Young Smith sighed resignedly. "Edna, " he said, "suppose we sit down. The word is NOT in the dictionary. "

There was but one chair, except those behind the counters, in the store. Miss Keith took that with an exclamation of impatience. Crawford Smith, whistling a mournful dirge, sauntered to the end of the counter and satdown upon a nail keg. 

Mary-'Gusta also uttered an exclamation. It is well to look before oneleaps, also, occasionally, before one sits. That keg had, spread acrossits top, a sheet of the fresh and very sticky fly paper. Before shecould have protested, even if she had wished to do so, the younggentleman's spotless white flannels and the fly paper came in contact, close and clinging contact. 

Mary-'Gusta put a hand to her mouth. Crawford looked at her, caught thedirection of her look, and looked in that direction himself. His whistlestopped in the middle of a note and his face immediately became a matchfor his socks and tie, a beautiful rich crimson, the chosen color of hisUniversity. 

Miss Keith, from her seat by the door, could not see beyond the end ofthe counter. Consequently she was unaware of the mishap to the whiteflannels. But Mary-'Gusta saw and knew; also she could see that Mr. Smith knew. 

"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Edna, impatiently. "We are dreadfully late now. We'll never get there on time. Sam won't wait for us; I know he won't. Where are those marshmallows? Can't you please hurry, Mary-'Gusta?"

Mary-'Gusta's eyes were sparkling. Her manner was provokinglydeliberate. She took a box of marshmallows from beneath the counter. 

"There are some here, " she said, "but I'm afraid they aren't very fresh. The fresh ones, those that have just come, are in a box in the backroom. That box hasn't been opened yet. If you can wait I'll open it foryou. "

Young Smith said nothing. Miss Keith, however, spoke her mind. 

"Of course we can't wait, " she declared. "I'm sure these will do. Theywill do, won't they, Crawford?"

And still Crawford remained silent. Mary-'Gusta, who was enjoying thisportion of the interview as much as she had disliked its beginning, offered a suggestion. 

"If you will just come here and look at these, " she said, withmischievous gravity, addressing the young gentleman on the nail keg, "perhaps you can tell whether they're fresh enough. "

The young gentleman did not rise. His face retained its brilliant colorand his lips moved, but his answer was not audible. At his age the dreadof appearing ridiculous, especially in the presence of a youthful andcharming female, is above all others hateful. And Edna Keith was not theonly girl in the picnic party; there were others. She would be certainto tell them. Crawford Smith foresaw a horrible day, a day of disgraceand humiliation, one in which he was destined to furnish amusementwithout sharing the fun. And Sam Keith, who had remarked upon thesplendor of his friend's attire, would gloat--not only here in SouthHarniss, but elsewhere--in Cambridge, for instance. An older man wouldhave risen, laughed whether he felt like laughing or not--and haveexpressed his opinion of fly paper. Crawford was not yet a man; he wasin the transition stage, a boy fondly hoping that other people mightthink him a man. So he sat still until it was too late to rise, and thenwished he had risen in the first place. 

"My goodness!" exclaimed the fidgety Miss Keith, "why don't you look atthem, Crawford? What are you waiting for?"

Mary-'Gusta, the box of marshmallows in her hand, regarded the boy onthe nail keg. His eyes met hers and in them was a look of such uttermisery that the girl relented. Her feeling of satisfied resentmentchanged to one almost of pity. She had been made to feel ridiculousherself at various times in her short life and she remembered thesensation. Mary-'Gusta, as has been mentioned before in this history, was old for her years. 

She considered a moment. Then she thrust the box beneath the counter. 

"I guess I'd better not sell you those, anyway, " she said with decision. "Uncle Zoeth said they weren't fresh. I'll open the case in the backroom. "

Edna stamped her foot. 

"We can't wait for that, " she declared. "We must go without them, I suppose. Oh, dear! And they depended on us to get them. It's soprovoking. Now we can't have any toast at all and it would have beensuch fun. "

Mary-'Gusta glanced once more at the occupant of the keg. 

"I was thinking, " she said, slowly, "that you needn't both wait unlessyou wanted to. Perhaps Miss Keith might go on and tell the othersand--er--Mr. Smith could stay here until I opened the box. Then he couldmeet you at the boat. "

Edna hesitated. "Shall I, Crawford?" she asked. 

Her companion did not hesitate. "I think perhaps you'd better, Edna, " hesaid. "I--I guess I won't be long. "

Miss Keith hurried out. Mary-'Gusta turned her attention to theremaining visitor. 

"You can get up now, " she said. "Some of it will tear off, anyway, and if you hurry you will have time to run home and change your--yourclothes. "

Crawford was evidently much surprised, also his embarrassment was notlessened; but he rose. 

"Then--then you knew?" he stammered. 

"Of course I knew. I saw you sit down on it, didn't I? If I'd known whatyou were going to do I'd have told you to look out. But you did it soquick I couldn't. Now tear off as much as you can. "

The young gentleman obeyed orders. "Does it show much?" he queried. "Ican't see. Is there much left?"

Mary-'Gusta smiled. His contortions were as violent as they were vain. "There's enough, " she said simply. "Here are the things you bought. Nowgo out of the back door and cut across the fields. It's the shortest wayhome. "

Mr. Smith took his various parcels, including the six boxes ofmarshmallows which Mary-'Gusta produced from beneath the counter. "Ithought you said these were stale, " he observed, wonderingly. 

"I said they weren't real fresh, but they're fresh enough for a toast. I said that so that the Keith girl wouldn't wait. I didn't think youwanted her to. "

"You bet your life I didn't! So that's why you said you would have toopen the other box? Just--just to help me out?"

"Yes. Now don't stop any longer. You'll have to run, you know. Go outthe back way. "

Crawford started for the door of the back room, but at that door hepaused. 

"Say, " he said, feelingly, "this is mighty white of you, do you know it?And after the way I guyed you when I first came in! I guess I was ratherfresh, wasn't I?"

"Yes, you were. "

"Yes, yes, I guess I was. I thought you were just a country kid, youknow, and I--say, by George, you WERE white. If I'd been you I'd havegot square. You had the chance; 'twould have served me right for playingthe smart Aleck. I beg your pardon. You're all RIGHT! And I'm awfullysorry I was such a chump. "

It was a straightforward, honest apology and confession of fault. Mary-'Gusta was pleased, but she did not show it. He had referred to heras a kid and she did not like that. 

"If you don't hurry--yes, and run like everything, " she said, "you won'thave time to get home and change and meet the others at the boat. Andsomebody else will see you, too. You'd better go. "

The young man went without further delay. Mary-'Gusta watching from theback door saw him racing across the fields in the direction of the Keithcottage. When her uncles returned she said nothing of the occurrence. She considered it funny, but she knew Crawford Smith did not, and shewas sure he would prefer to have the secret kept. 

The following afternoon the partners of Hamilton and Company entertaineda caller at the store. That evening Shadrach spoke of the call toMary-'Gusta. 

"That young Smith feller that's been visitin' the Keiths was in today, "said the Captain. "Didn't want to buy nothin'; said he just happenedin, that's all. Asked where you was, he did. I didn't know he knew you, Mary-'Gusta. "

Mary-'Gusta, who was busy clearing the supper table, answered withoutlooking round. "He and Edna Keith bought some things at the storeyesterday, " she said. 

"Yes, so he said. He said tell you everything was all right and he hada fine time at the picnic. Seemed to cal'late you was a pretty brightgirl. We knew that afore, of course, but it was nice of him to say so. He's leavin' on tomorrow mornin's train. Goin' way out West, he is, toNevada; that's where he and his dad live. His ma's dead, so he told us. Must be tough to live so fur off from salt water: I couldn't stand it, I know that. Funny thing about that young feller, too; his face lookedsort of familiar to me and Zoeth. Seemed as if he looked like somebodywe knew, but of course we didn't know any of his folks; we don't knowany Smiths from way off there. "

The subject was dropped for the time, but two days later the expressmanbrought a package to the house. The package was addressed to MissMary Augusta Lathrop and contained a five-pound basket of expensivechocolates and bonbons. There was a note with it which read as follows:

Hope you'll like these. They are fresh, at least Huyler's people swearthey are, but I don't believe they are as good as those marshmallows. And I KNOW they are not as fresh as a certain person was at a certaintime. Please eat them and forget the other freshness. 

C. S. 

You were a perfect little brick not to tell. 

Mary-'Gusta was obliged to tell then, but she made her uncles and Isaiahpromise not to do so. She, with the able assistance of the other membersof the household, ate the contents of the basket in due time. The basketitself was taken to the parlor, where it was given a place beside theother curiosities. As for the note, that disappeared. And yet, if onehad investigated the contents of the small drawer of Mary-'Gusta'sbureau, where she kept her most intimate treasures, the mystery of itsdisappearance might have been solved. 

It was the only epistle of its kind the girl had yet received; and, after all, good-looking young college men are what they are. AndMary-'Gusta, in spite of her queerness, was feminine--and human. 

CHAPTER IX

When Mary-'Gusta was seventeen a great event took place. The happeningwhich led to it was trivial enough, but the results were important andfar-reaching. They led to the second great change in her life, a changeas important as that brought about by her memorable "visit" to SouthHarniss. 

She was a girl in years still, but tall for her age, and in thought andmanner almost a young woman. Her management of her uncles and Isaiah wasnow complete. They no longer protested, even to each other, against themanagement and, in fact, gloried in it. The cook and steward acceptedher orders concerning the daily marketing and he and she audited themonthly bills. The white house by the shore was a different placealtogether now and "chicken-pox tablecloths" and tarnished silver werethings of the forgotten past. At the store she had become almost asilent partner, and Hamilton and Company's "emporium" was, thanks to herjudgment and tact, if not yet an up-to-date establishment, at least ashop where commodities to be sold were in places where they might beseen by prospective purchasers and readily located by the proprietors. 

She spent a good deal of her time, except in school hours, at the storeand much of the buying as well as the selling was done by her. Thedrummers representing New York and Boston wholesale houses knew her andcherished keen respect for her abilities as a selector and purchaser ofgoods. 

"Say, " said one of these gentlemen, after a lengthy session duringwhich his attempts to work off several "stickers" had been frustrated byMary-'Gusta's common sense and discernment--"Say, that girl of yours isa wonder, do you know it? She's the sharpest buyer I ever run across onmy trips down here. I don't take a back seat for anybody when it comesto selling goods, and there's mighty little I can't sell; but I can'tbluff her. She knows what's what, you hear me!"

Shadrach, to whom this remark was made, chuckled. "You bet you!" hedeclared, with enthusiasm. "Anybody that gets ahead of our Mary-'Gustahas got to turn out afore the mornin' watch. She's smart. Zoeth and meain't aboard the same craft with her. "

"I should say not. And you can't get gay with her, either. Most girls ofher age and as good a looker as she is don't object to a little ragging:they're used to it and they like it--but not her. She isn't fishing forboxes of candy or invitations to dances. That line of talk means good-byand no sale where she is. Business and just business, that's all thereis to her. How long are you goin' to keep her here?"

"How long? Why, forever, I hope. What are you talkin' about?"

The drummer winked. "That's all right, " he observed. "You want to keepher, I don't doubt: but one of these days somebody else'll be wantingher more than you do. Mr. Right'll be coming along here some time andthen--good night! She's young yet, but in a couple of years she'll be aqueen and then--well, then maybe I'll stand a better chance of unloadingthose last summer caps the house has got in stock. Girls like her don'tstay single and keep store; there's too much demand and not enoughcompetition. Gad! If I wasn't an antique and married already I don'tknow but I'd be getting into line. That's what!"

Captain Shadrach was inclined to be angry, but, although he wouldnot have admitted it, he realized the truth of this frank statement. Mary-'Gusta was pretty, she was more than that, and the line was alreadyforming. Jimmie Bacheldor had long ago ceased to be a competitor; thatfriendship had ended abruptly at the time of David's narrow escape; butthere were others, plenty of them. Daniel Higgins, son of Mr. SolomonHiggins, the local lumber dealer and undertaker, was severely smitten. Dan was at work in Boston, where he was engaged in the cheerful andremunerative business of selling coffins for the American CasketCompany. He was diligent and active and his future promised to bebright, at least so his proud father boasted. He came home for holidaysand vacations and his raiment was anything but funereal, but Mary-'Gustawas not impressed either by the raiment or the personality beneath it. She treated the persistent Daniel as a boy and a former schoolmate. When he assumed manly airs she laughed at him and when he invited her toaccompany him to the Cattle Show at Ostable she refused and said she wasgoing with Uncle Zoeth. 

Dan Higgins was not the only young fellow who found the store ofHamilton and Company an attractive lounging place. Some of the younggentlemen not permanent residents of South Harniss also appeared toconsider it a pleasant place to visit on Summer afternoons. They came tobuy, of course, but they remained to chat. Mary-'Gusta might have sailedor picknicked a good deal and in the best of company, socially speaking, if she had cared to do so. She did not so care. 

"They don't want me, Uncle Shad, " she said. "And I don't want to go. "

"Course they want you, " declared Shadrach, stoutly. "If they didn't wantyou they wouldn't ask you, 'tain't likely. And I heard that young Keithfeller askin' you to go out sailin' with him this very afternoon. "

"You didn't hear his sister ask me, did you? There, there, Uncle Shad, don't worry about me. I'm having a good time; a very much better timethan if I went sailing with the Keiths. "

"What's the matter with the Keiths? They're as nice folks as come toSouth Harniss. "

"Of course they are. "

"Well, then! And you're as good as they are, ain't you?"

"I hope so. Uncle Shad, why don't you wear a white flannel suit in hotweather? Mr. Keith, Sam's father, wore one at the church garden partythe other day. "

The Captain stared at her. "Why don't I wear--what?" he stammered. 

"A white flannel suit. You're as good as Mr. Keith, aren't you?"

"I guess I am. I don't know why I ain't. But what kind of a question'sthat? I'd look like a plain fool tagged out in one of them things:anyway, I'd feel like one. I don't belong in a white flannel suit. Iain't no imitation dude. "

"And I don't belong in Sam Keith's yacht. At least Mr. Keith and Ednawould feel that I didn't. I don't want to be considered an imitation, either. "

Shadrach shook his head. "You ain't like anybody else, " he said. "You'rea funny girl, Mary-'Gusta. "

"I suppose I am; but I'm not as funny as I should be if I tried to BEsomebody else. No, Uncle Shad, you'll just have to bear with me as I am, funniness and all. "

A few days after this Keith, senior, came into the store. He was notarrayed in the white flannels but was wearing a rather shabby but verycomfortable tweed jacket and trousers and a white canvas hat of the kindwhich Hamilton and Company sold for fifty cents. His shirt was of thesoft-collared variety and his shoes were what South Harniss called"sneakers. "

John Keith's visits to Cape Cod were neither very frequent nor lengthy. His wife and family came in June and remained until late September, buthis sojourns were seldom longer than a week at a time and there wereintervals of a month or more between them. In Chicago he was the headof a large business and that business demanded close attention. When heleft it he left his cares with it and enjoyed himself in his own way. That way included old clothes, golf, a boat, and just as few tea andgarden parties as his wife would permit. 

He was planning a fishing trip and had stopped at the store to buysome tobacco. The partners had gone home for dinner and Mary-'Gustawas tending shop. At that moment she was busy with the travelingrepresentative of Messrs. Bernstein, Goldberg and Baun, of Providence, wholesale dealers in stationery, cards and novelties. The time wasAugust, but Mr. Kron, the drummer, was already booking orders for theChristmas season. His samples were displayed upon the counter and he andMary-'Gusta were deep in conversation. 

"That's what you ought to have, " declared Mr. Kron, with enthusiasm. "Believe me, there's goin' to be some call for that line of stuff thisyear. The house can't turn 'em out fast enough. "

"But what is it?" asked Mary-'Gusta. "What's it for?"

"It's a combination calendar and beauty-box, " explained Mr. Kron. "Hangit on the wall by your bureau--see? In the mornin' you can't rememberwhat day it is. All right, there's the calendar. Then you want to dollyourself up for--well, for the party you're goin' to--"

"The same morning?" interrupted Mary-'Gusta. 

Mr. Kron grinned. He was a young man and this was his first trip in thatsection. His clothes were neither modest nor retiring and he, himself, did not suffer from these failings. Also he prided himself on having away with the ladies, especially the younger ladies. And Mary-'Gusta wasdistinctly the most attractive young person he had met on this trip. 

He laughed in appreciation of the joke. 

"Say, " he observed, admiringly, "you're up to the minute, ain't you!You're some kidder, all right. Are there many more in this burg likeyou? If there are I'm goin' to move in and settle down. What?"

Mary-'Gusta did not laugh, nor did she answer. Instead, she turned tothe gentleman who had entered the store. 

"Good morning, Mr. Keith, " she said. "Was there anything you wanted?"

Keith smiled. "No hurry, " he said. "I've got a little time to kill andif you don't mind I'll kill it here. I'll sit down and wait, if I may. That boatman of mine will be along pretty soon. "

He took the chair by the door. Mr. Kron continued his exploitation ofthe combination calendar and beauty-box. 

"You are goin' to a party, " he went on, "either that night or thatafternoon or sometime. Sure you are! Girls like you ain't handed thego-by on many parties in this neck of the woods--am I right? Well, then, when the time comes, you pull down the flap. There's your beauty-box, lookin'-glass, powder puff and powder, all complete. Now a novelty likethat will sell--"

"We couldn't use it, " interrupted Mary-'Gusta. "Show me something else. "

Mr. Kron, disappointed but far from discouraged, showed her somethingelse--many somethings. Concerning each he was enthusiastic, slangy, andfamiliar. Mary-'Gusta paid little attention to slang or enthusiasm; thefamiliarity she ignored utterly. She selected several of the novelties, a rather extensive line of Christmas cards, and in the matters ofprice and cash discounts was keen and businesslike. Keith watched andlistened, at first with amusement, then with growing admiration for thegirl's simplicity and good sense. 

Mr. Kron's admiration was outspoken. 

"Say, " he said, as he repacked his samples, "you're a mighty cleverbuyer, do you know it? That line of stuff you've ordered is the cream, that's what it is. You made a mistake in not layin' in a dozen or two ofthose combination beauty-boxes, but that's all right. Here, have one foryourself. Take it with my compliments. "

Mary-'Gusta declined. "No, thank you, " she said. 

"Why not? It don't come out of my pocket. The firm expects me to handout little keepsakes like that. I've been plantin' 'em with the girlsall the way down. "

"No, thank you, " she replied. 

Mr. Kron, having finished his business as representative of Messrs. Bernstein, Goldberg and Baun, attempted a stroke of his own. 

"Say, " he said, "I've got a little spare time on my hands this evenin';I shan't make the next town until tomorrow. There's a new movie theaterjust opened over to Orham. They tell me it's all to the mustard. I canhire a rig here and you and me might drive over tonight and take it in. What do you say, Kid?"

"No, thank you, " said Mary-'Gusta again. 

"But--"

"No, thank you. Good day. "

She turned away to enter the order she had just given in a book onthe desk. Mr. Kron tried again, but she did not appear to hear him. Hegrinned, observed "Oh, very well!" and, with a wink at Mr. Keith, wentout, a suitcase in each hand. 

Keith rose from the chair and, walking over to the counter, requested tobe supplied with the tobacco he had come to buy. Mary-'Gusta gave itto him. Her cheeks were red and Keith was surprised to notice that shelooked almost as if she would like to cry. He guessed the reason. 

"That young man will get himself thoroughly kicked some day, " heobserved; "I'm not sure that I oughtn't to have done it myself just now. He annoyed you, I'm afraid. "

Mary-'Gusta answered without looking at him. 

"That's all right, " she said. "I'm foolish, I guess. He meant to benice, perhaps. Some girls may like that sort of niceness; I don't. "

"Why didn't you tell him to get out?"

"I wanted to see his samples. It is time for us to buy our Christmasthings and I had rather choose them myself, that's all. "

"Oh! But Mr. Hamilton or the Captain--I should think--"

"Oh, they might have bought some that we couldn't sell. "

"The beauty-boxes, for instance?"

Mary-'Gusta smiled. "Why, yes, " she admitted; "perhaps. "

"I see. But it was rather an ordeal for you. Do you have to endure muchof that sort of thing?"

"No more than any girl who keeps store, I guess. "

At the dinner table that evening Keith referred to his experience aslistener in Hamilton and Company's shop. 

"That girl with the queer name, " he said, "a niece of those two oldchaps who run the place, I believe she is. Do you know anything abouther, Gertrude?"

Before Mrs. Keith could reply, Edna spoke:

"Ask Sam, Dad, " she said, mischievously. "Sam knows about her. He justadores that store; he spends half his time there. "

"Nonsense, Edna!" protested Sam, turning red. "I don't do any suchthing. "

"Oh, yes, you do. And you know about Mary-'Gusta too. He says she's apeach, Daddy. "

"Humph!" grunted her brother, indignantly. "Well, she is one. She'sgot every girl in your set skinned a mile for looks. But I don't knowanything about her, of course. "

Mrs. Keith broke in. "Skinned a mile!" she repeated, with a shudder. "Sam, what language you do use! Yes, John, " she added, addressing herhusband. "I know the girl well. She's pretty and she is sensible. Fora girl who has had no opportunities and has lived all her life here inSouth Harniss she is really quite remarkable. Why do you speak of her, John?"

Mr. Keith related a part of the conversation between Mary-'Gusta and Mr. Kron. 

"She handled the fellow splendidly, " he said. "She talked business withhim and she wouldn't let him talk anything else. But it was plain enoughto see that she felt insulted and angry. It seems a pity that a girllike that should have to put up with that sort of thing. I wonder if heruncles, old Mr. Hamilton and Captain Shadrach, realize what happens whenthey're not about? How would they take it, do you think, if I dropped ahint?"

Edna laughed. "You would have to be very careful, Daddy, " she said. "Mr. Hamilton and the Captain idolize Mary-'Gusta and she just worships them. Besides, she isn't really their niece, you know. She is a young lady ofindependent means--at least, so everybody says. "

Her father was surprised. He asked what she meant by "independentmeans. " Mrs. Keith answered. 

"The means are not very extensive, I imagine, " she said. "The story isthat this Mary-'Gusta--why they persist in calling her by that dreadfulname I can't understand--is the daughter of a former friend and partner. Mr. Hamilton and Captain Gould adopted her and she has lived with themever since. She has money of her own, though no two of the townspeopleagree as to how much. I've heard it estimated all the way from five tofifty thousand. She never speaks of it and those queer old uncles ofhers keep their affairs very much to themselves. But I agree with you, John; it is a shame that she should have to spend her life here in SouthHarniss. I think we ought to do something for her, if we can. I shallthink it over. "

Mrs. Keith was always doing something for somebody. At home in Chicagoshe was president of her women's club and identified with goodness knowshow many charitable societies. In South Harniss she was active in churchand sewing circles. Her enthusiasm was always great, but her tact wassometimes lacking. South Harniss people, some of them, were inclinedto consider her as a self-appointed boss interfering where she had nobusiness. 

Her husband looked a trifle dubious. 

"Be careful, Gertrude, " he cautioned. "Look out you don't offend. These Cape Codders are self-respecting and touchy, you know. Anyoneinterfering with their private affairs is likely to get into trouble. "

His wife resented the warning. "Don't throw cold water on everything, John, " she said. "I know more about Cape Codders than you do. You onlymeet them for a few weeks each summer. I flatter myself that I know themand that they know and trust me. Of COURSE I shall be careful. And Ishall think the Mary-'Gusta matter over. "

She did think it over and a week later she came to her husbandoverflowing with the excitement of a brilliant idea. A cousin of hers, a maiden lady of sixty or thereabouts, wealthy and a semi-invalid whocherished her ill-health, was in need of a female companion. Mrs. Keithwas certain that Mary-'Gusta would be just the person to fill that need. 

Mr. Keith was by no means so certain. He raised some objections. 

"Humph, " he said. "Well, Gertrude, to be frank, I don't think muchof the scheme. Cousin Clara has had one companion after the other forthirty years. None of them has stayed with her very long. She requiresa sort of combination friend and lady's maid and secretary and waitress, and I don't think our Mary-'Gusta would enjoy that sort of job. Icertainly shouldn't--with Clara. "

His wife was indignant. "I might have known you would be ready with thecold water, " she declared. "Clara is--well, cranky, and particular andall that, but the opportunity is wonderful. The girl would travel andmeet the best people--"

"She might remove their wraps, I admit. "

"Nonsense! And if Clara took a fancy to her she might leave her a goodsum of money when she died. "

"Perhaps, providing the girl didn't die first. No, Gertrude, I'msorry to disappoint you, but I don't think much of your idea. Anyway, according to my belief, you're approaching this thing from the wrongend. It isn't the girl herself you should try to influence, but heruncles, or guardians, or whatever they are. If I know her, and I've beenmaking some inquiries, she won't leave them. She will consider that theyneed her at the house and store and she'll stay. They are the ones toinfluence. If the matter of her welfare and future was put to them inthe right light they might--well, they might sacrifice themselves tobenefit her. "

"Rubbish! I know I'm right. She'll jump at the opportunity. I shall tellher about it this very afternoon. "

"She won't accept; I'll bet on it. "

His principal reason for non-belief in Mary-'Gusta's acceptance was hisknowledge of his wife's lack of tact. The girl did not consider herself, nor was she, a subject of charity. And the position of combinationfriend and servant would not appeal to her. John Keith had an idea ofhis own concerning Mary-'Gusta, but it could wait until his wife's hadfailed. 

It failed, of course, and Mrs. Keith, that evening, was indignant andangry. 

"I never was so treated in my life, " she declared. "That girl didn'tknow her place at all. I'm through. I wash my hands of the wholematter. "

"Wasn't she polite?" inquired Keith. 

"Oh, she was polite enough, as far as that goes, but she wouldn't evenconsider my proposal. Wouldn't even hear me through. She said she had nothought of leaving South Harniss. She was quite satisfied and contentedwhere she was. One would think I had come to ask a favor instead ofconferring one. Why, she seemed to think my plan almost ridiculous. "

"Did she say so?"

"No, of course she didn't. She thanked me and all that; but she snubbedme just the same. I'm disgusted. I'm through--absolutely and completelythrough trying to help that girl!"

Keith did not say, "I told you so"; in fact, he said little or nothingmore at the time. But a day or two afterwards he called at the store. Zoeth and Captain Shadrach were alone there, their niece having gonedown to the house, a fact of which the caller was aware. 

The partners liked John Keith. They considered him, as Captain Shadsaid, "a first-rate, everyday sort of feller, " who did not patronize norput on airs, even though he was a "summer man" and rich. When he talkedwith them it was of things they understood, local affairs, the cranberrycrop, fishing, and the doings of the Board of Selectmen. He was willingto listen as well as talk and he did not refer to permanent residents as"natives, " a habit of his wife's which irritated the Captain extremely. 

"Jumpin' fire!" said the latter on one occasion, "every time that womancalls us town folks 'natives' I feel as if she cal'lated I lived up atree and chucked coconuts at folks. I don't wonder some of the South SeaIslands heathen eat missionaries. If I ATE that woman she might agreewith me; she don't as 'tis. Every time I say yes she says no, and thatmakes me think yes harder'n ever. "

So Mrs. Keith was not popular with the South Harniss natives, perhapsbecause she tried so hard to be; her husband, who apparently did not tryto be, was. He and his opinions were liked and respected. When he cameinto the store, therefore, on this occasion, Zoeth and Shad welcomedhim, asked him to sit down, and the conversation began with theastonishing rise in the price of sea-front property and drifted fromthat to other timely and general topics. 

Just how it drifted to Mary-'Gusta and her future neither of thepartners could have told--however, drift there it did, and they foundthemselves chanting her praises to their caller, who seemed muchinterested. 

"She is a remarkably capable girl, " observed Mr. Keith. "And before werealize it she will be a young woman. Are you planning that she shallkeep store and keep house for you the rest of her life, or the rest ofyours?"

Zoeth shook his head. "Why, " he said, mildly, "I don't know's we'veplanned much about it so fur. Those things sort of take care ofthemselves, always seemed to me. Or the Almighty takes care of 'em forus. "

Their visitor smiled. "Someone else will be willing and anxious to takecare of her before many years, or I miss my guess, " he said. "She islikely to marry, you know. There must be some promising young fellowsdown here. "

Shadrach sniffed. It was a subject he never discussed with his partnerand did not like even to think about. The remark of the hat and capdrummer concerning the coming of a "Mr. Right" had troubled him not alittle. 

"Ugh!" he grunted; "there's promisin' ones enough. Most of those thatare contented to stay here in South Harniss are nothin' BUT promise;they ain't so strong on makin' good. 'Tain't like 'twas when Zoeth andme were young ourselves. Now all the smart, ambitious boys go up to thecity to work. "

"Some of the girls go up there, too, don't they? To school, or college?Didn't I hear that Christopher Mullet's daughter was at school inBridgewater?"

"Ugh!" grunted Shadrach again. "I cal'late you did hear. If you didn'tyou're the only one in town that ain't. Becky Mullet--yes, and Chris, too--ain't done anything but brag about their Irene's goin' off to whatthey call 'finishin' school. ' Judas! I see HER finish. She ain't got--Iswan that girl ain't got anything in her head but gas, and every timeshe opens her mouth she loses enough of that to keep a lighthouse lit upall night. "

"Shadrach, " murmured Zoeth, "don't say such unlikely things about folks. Be charitable as you can. "

"Judas! I am--as much as I can. If I wasn't charitable to that Mulletgirl I'd be talkin' yet. I hove to afore I'd got scarcely under way. "

Keith put in a word. "Finishing schools are not all bad, by any means, "he said. "There are various kinds and grades, of course, but a goodprivate school for girls is a fine thing. It teaches them to meet andjudge people of all kinds, and that fine feathers don't always make finebirds. Then, too, a girl at a good school of that sort is under strictdiscipline and her acquaintances, male acquaintances especially, arechosen with care. Sixteen to eighteen is a dangerous age for the averagegirl. 

"By the way, " he added, "did your niece tell you of her experience withthat traveling salesman the other day, the fellow selling Christmasnovelties? No? Well, I happened to be here at the time. It was ratherinteresting. "

He told of Mary-'Gusta's session with Mr. Kron. The partners listenedwith growing indignation. 

"Well, by the jumpin'!" exclaimed Captain Shad. "Did you ever hear suchbrassy talk in your life! I wish to thunder I'd been here. There'd havebeen one mighty sick patient ready for the doctor and he wouldn't havebeen a South Harniss native either. But Mary-'Gusta didn't take none ofhis sauce, I tell you; that girl of ours is all right!"

"Yes, she is all right. But she didn't enjoy the experience, that wasplain enough, and, so far as I can see, she is likely to have a goodmany others of the same kind. Now it isn't my business, I know that; youcan tell me to shut up and clear out any time you like, of course; butdo you think it is just fair to a girl like your niece to condemn herto a life of storekeeping or the alternative of marrying one of thepromising young men you've been talking about? Don't you think such agirl as she is deserves a chance; every chance you can give her?"

The two partners stared at him open-mouthed. Shadrach, as usual, spokefirst. 

"Condemn her?" he repeated. "Condemn Mary-'Gusta? A chance? Why--"

"Hush, Shadrach, " interrupted Zoeth. "Mr. Keith ain't done yet. He'sgoin' to tell us what he means. Go on, Mr. Keith, what do you mean?"

Keith, having broken the ice, and found the water not so chilly as hehad feared it might be, plunged in. 

"Well, I mean this, " he said. "I confess frankly that I have been veryfavorably impressed by your niece. She is an unusual girl--unusuallypretty, of course, but much more than that. She is simple and brave andsensible and frank. If she were my daughter I should be very proud ofher. I know you are. She should have, it seems to me, the opportunity tomake the most of her qualities and personality. I've been thinking abouther a great deal ever since my call at the store here the other day. NowI've got a suggestion to make. You can take it or leave it, but I assureyou it is made with the best of intentions and solely in her interest asI see it; and I hope you'll take it after you've thought it over. Hereit is. "

He went on to impart the suggestion. His hearers listened, Zoethsilently and Shadrach with occasional mutterings and exclamations. 

"So there you are, " said Keith in conclusion. "The school is a goodone, one of the best in Boston. Two years there will do worlds for yourniece. It has done worlds for other girls I have known. It is ratherexpensive, of course, but, as I understand it, Mary has money of herown of which you, as her guardians, have charge. She couldn't spend aportion of that money to better advantage. "

Zoeth said nothing, but he looked at the Captain and the Captain lookedat him. 

"She HAS money of her own, hasn't she?" inquired Mr. Keith. "I have beentold she was left an independent fortune by her father. "

There was another interval of silence. The partners were quite aware ofthe general belief in Mary-'Gusta's independent fortune. They had notdiscouraged that belief. It was no one's business but theirs and theirrespect and affection for Marcellus Hall had prevented the disclosure ofthe latter's poverty. That secret not even Mary-'Gusta knew; she, too, believed that the money which paid for her clothes and board and all therest was her own. Her uncles had helped her to think so. 

So when their visitor asked the pointed question Zoeth looked atShadrach and the latter shook his head. 

"Yup, " he answered, brusquely, "it's true enough, I cal'late. Marcellusleft her all he had. But--but look here, Mr. Keith. Do I understand youto advise us to send Mary-'Gusta away--to school--for two years? Jumpin'fire! How--how could we? She--why, what would we do without her?"

"It would be harder for you here in the store, of course. "

"The store! 'Tain't the store I'm thinkin' about; it's me and Zoeth. What'll WE do without her? Why, she--why, no daughter could mean more tous than that girl does, and if Zoeth and me was her own--er--mother andfather we couldn't think more of her. We'd be adrift and out of sightof land if Mary-'Gusta went away. No, no, we couldn't think of such athing. "

"Not even for her sake? She's worth a pretty big sacrifice, a girl likethat. "

A long discussion followed, a discussion interrupted by the arrival ofoccasional customers but resumed as soon as each of these individualsdeparted. Zoeth asked a question. 

"This--this Miss--er--What's-her-name's school you're talkin' about, " heasked, "a reg'lar boardin' school, is it?"

"Yes, but there are day pupils. It was my idea, provided you two werewilling to listen to my suggestion at all, to suggest that Mary attendas a day pupil. She might live near the school instead of at it. Thatwould be much less expensive. "

"Um-hm, " mused Shadrach, "but--but she'd have to live somewheres, andI for one would want to be mighty particular what sort of a place shelived at. "

"Naturally. Well, I have thought of that, too, and here is suggestionnumber three: I have a cousin--a cousin of my first wife's--who lives onPinckney Street, which is not far from the Misses Cabot's school. Thiscousin--Mrs. Wyeth is her name--is a widow and she hasn't too muchmoney. She doesn't keep a boarding house exactly, but she has been knownto take a few of what she calls 'paying guests. ' She's very Bostonianand very particular concerning the references and family connections ofthose guests, but I think I could manage that. If your niece were placedin her care she would have a real home and meet only the sort of peopleyou would wish her to meet. "

He might have added that Mrs. Wyeth, being under many obligations, pecuniary and otherwise, to her wealthy Chicago relative, would needonly a hint from him to give Mary-'Gusta the care and attention of aparent, a very particular, Boston first-family parent. But, unlike hispresent wife, he was not in the habit of referring to his charities, sohe kept this information to himself. 

Zoeth sighed. "I declare, " he said, "you're mighty kind in all this, Mr. Keith. I know that you're sartin this goin' away to school would doMary-'Gusta a sight of good. But--but I swan I--I can't hardly bear tothink of our lettin' her go away from us. "

"I don't wonder at that. Just think it over and we'll have another talklater. "

CHAPTER X

Mr. Keith and the Captain had that later talk--several talks, infact--and a week after their first one Captain Shadrach suddenlyannounced that he was cal'latin' to run up to Boston just for a day onbusiness and that Mary-'Gusta had better go along with him for company. Zoeth could tend store and get along all right until they returned. Thegirl was not so certain of the getting along all right, but Mr. Hamiltonas well as the Captain insisted, so she consented at last. The Bostontrip was not exactly a novelty to her--she had visited the city a numberof times during the past few years--but a holiday with Uncle Shad wasalways good fun. 

They took the early morning train and reached Boston about ten o'clock. Shadrach's business in the city seemed to be of a rather vague naturethis time. They called at the offices of two or three of his oldfriends--ship-chandlers and marine outfitters on Commercial Street andAtlantic Avenue--and then the Captain, looking at his watch, announcedthat it was pretty nigh noontime and he cal'lated they had betterbe cruisin' up towards Pinckney Street. "Got an errand up in thatlatitude, " he added. 

Pinckney Street was on the hill in the rear of the Common and the StateHouse and was narrow and crooked and old-fashioned. 

"What in the world are we doing up here?" queried Mary-'Gusta. "Therearen't any wholesale houses here, I'm sure. Haven't you made a mistake, Uncle Shad?" Shadrach, who had been consulting a page of his pocketmemorandum book, replied that he cal'lated he'd got his bearin's, and, to the girl's astonishment, stopped before a brick dwelling with acolonial doorway and a white stone step which actually shone fromscrubbing, and rang the bell. 

The maid who answered the bell wore a white apron which crackled withstarch. She looked as if she too had, like the step, been scrubbed a fewminutes before. 

"This is No. --, ain't it?" inquired the Captain. "Humph! I thought so. I ain't so much of a wreck yet but that I can navigate Boston without apilot. Is Mr. Keith in?"

The maid, who had received the pilot statement with uncomprehendingastonishment, looked relieved. 

"Yes, sir, " she said. "Mr. Keith's here. Are you the ones he'sexpectin'? Walk in, please. "

They entered the house. It was as spotlessly tidy within as without. The maid ushered them into a parlor where old mahogany and old familyportraits in oil were very much in evidence. 

"Sit down, please, " she said. "I'll tell Mr. Keith you're here. "

She left the room. Mary-'Gusta turned to the Captain in amazedagitation. 

"Uncle Shad, " she demanded, "why on earth did you come HERE to see Mr. Keith? Couldn't you have seen him at South Harniss?"

Shadrach shook his head. "Not today I couldn't, " he said. "He's up heretoday. "

"But what do you want to see him for?"

"Business, business, Mary-'Gusta. Mr. Keith and me are tryin' to do alittle stroke of business together. We've got a hen on, as the fellersaid. Say, this is kind of a swell house, ain't it? And clean--my soul!Judas! did I move this chair out of place? I didn't mean to. Looks as ifit had set right in that one spot for a hundred years. "

Keith entered at that moment, followed by an elderly lady whose gown wasalmost as old-fashioned as the furniture. She was a rather thin personbut her face, although sharp, was not unkind in expression and herplainly arranged hair was white. Mary-'Gusta liked her looks; sheguessed that she might be very nice indeed to people she knew andfancied; also that she would make certain of knowing them first. 

"Hello, Captain Gould, " hailed Keith. "Glad to see you. Found the placeall right, I see. "

"Yes--yes, I found it, Mr. Keith. "

"I thought you wouldn't have any difficulty. Mary, how do you do?"

Mary-'Gusta and Mr. Keith shook hands. 

"Captain, " said Keith, "I want to introduce you to my cousin, Mrs. Wyeth. "

Mrs. Wyeth bowed with dignity. 

"How do you do, Captain Gould, " she said. 

"Why--why, I'm pretty smart, thank you, ma'am, " stammered Shadrach, rather embarrassed at all this ceremony. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am. "

"And this young lady, " went on Keith, "is Miss Mary Lathrop. MissLathrop, this lady is Mrs. Wyeth, my cousin. "

Mary-'Gusta, with the uneasy feeling that Mrs. Wyeth's gaze had beenfixed upon her since she entered the room, bowed but said nothing. 

"And now, " said Mr. Keith, heartily, "we'll have luncheon. You're justin time and Mrs. Wyeth has been expecting you. "

The Captain's embarrassment reached its height at this invitation. 

"No, no, " he stammered, "we--we can't do that. Couldn't think of it, you know. We--we ain't a mite hungry. Had breakfast afore we left home, didn't we, Mary-'Gusta?"

Keith laughed. "Yes, I know, " he said; "and you left home abouthalf-past five. I've taken that early train myself. If you're not hungryyou ought to be and luncheon is ready. Emily--Mrs. Wyeth--has beenexpecting you. She will be disappointed if you refuse. "

Mrs. Wyeth herself put in a word here. "Of course they won't refuse, John, " she said with decision. "They must be famished. Refuse! The idea!Captain Gould, Mr. Keith will look out for you; your niece will comewith me. Luncheon will be ready in five minutes. Come, Mary. That's yourname--Mary--isn't it? I'm glad to hear it. It's plain and it's sensibleand I like it. The employment bureau sent me a maid a week ago and whenshe told me her name I sent her back again. It was Florina. That wasenough. Mercy! All I could think of was a breakfast food. Come, Mary. Now, John, do be prompt. "

That luncheon took its place in Mary-'Gusta's memory beside that of herfirst supper in the house at South Harniss. They were both memorablemeals, although alike in no other respects. Mrs. Wyeth presided, ofcourse, and she asked the blessing and poured the tea with dignity andbusinesslike dispatch. The cups and saucers were of thin, transparentChina, with pictures of mandarins and pagodas upon them. They lookedold-fashioned and they were; Mrs. Wyeth's grandfather had bought themhimself in Hongkong in the days when he commanded a clipper shipand made voyages to the Far East. The teaspoons were queer littlefiddle-patterned affairs; they were made by an ancestor who was asilversmith with a shop on Cornhill before General Gage's army wasquartered in Boston. And cups and spoons and napkins were so clean thatit seemed almost sacrilegious to soil them by use. 

Captain Shadrach did not soil his to any great extent at first. TheCaptain was plainly overawed by the genteel elegance of his surroundingand the manner of his hostess. But Mr. Keith was very much at ease andfull of fun and, after a time, a little of Shadrach's self-consciousnessdisappeared. When he learned that grandfather Wyeth had been a seafaringman he came out of his shell sufficiently to narrate, at Keith'srequest, one of his own experiences in Hongkong, but even in the midstof his yarn he never forgot to address his hostess as "ma'am" and he didnot say "Jumpin Judas" once. 

After luncheon Mr. Keith and the Captain left the house together. "Goin' to attend to that little mite of business I spoke to you about, Mary-'Gusta, " explained Shadrach, confidentially. "We'll be back prettysoon. I cal'late maybe you'd better wait here, that is, " with a glanceat Mrs. Wyeth, "if it'll be all right for you to. "

"Of course it will be all right, " declared Mrs. Wyeth promptly. "I shallbe glad to have her. "

"Thank you, ma'am. If she won't be in the way I--"

"If she were likely to be in the way I should say so. She won't be. "

"Yes--er--yes, ma'am, " stammered Shadrach. "Thank you, ma'am. "

When he and Mr. Keith were out of the house he drew a long breath. 

"Judas!" he observed, feelingly. "Say, that cousin of yours don't wasteany words, does she? When it comes to speakin' what's in her mind shedon't fool around none. She's as right up and down as a schooner'sfo'mast. "

Keith laughed heartily. "Emily is blunt and outspoken, " he said. "Sheprides herself on that. But she is as square as a brick. She never saysone thing to your face and another behind your back. "

"No, I--I judge that's so. Well, that's all right; I ain't got anyobjections to that way of talkin' myself. But say, if every woman waslike her there wouldn't be many sewin' circles, would there? The averagesewin' circle meetin' is one part sew and three parts what So-and-sosaid. "

When the little mite of business had been transacted and the pairreturned to the Wyeth house they found Mrs. Wyeth and Mary-'Gustaawaiting them in the parlor. The girl had the feeling that she hadbeen undergoing a rather vigorous cross-examination. Mrs. Wyeth had nottalked a great deal herself and her manner, though brusque and matterof fact, was kind; but she had asked questions about Mary-'Gusta's homelife, about Captain Gould and Mr. Hamilton, about school and friends andacquaintances. And her comments, when she made any, were direct and tothe point. 

She and Mr. Keith exchanged looks when the latter entered the room. Keith raised his eyebrows inquiringly. She nodded as if giving emphaticassent to his unspoken question. 

Shadrach and Mary-'Gusta left the house soon afterward. While theCaptain and Mr. Keith were whispering together in the hall, Mrs. Wyethbade the girl good-by. 

"I like you, my dear, " said the lady. "You seem to be a sweet, sensiblegirl, and I don't meet as many of that kind nowadays as I could wish. Iam sure we shall be good friends. "

"And WHAT did she mean by that?" demanded Mary-'Gusta, as she and theCaptain walked along Pinckney Street together. "Why should we be goodfriends? Probably I'll never meet her again. "

Shadrach smiled. "Oh, you can't always tell, " he said. "Sometimes youmeet folks oftener'n you think in this world. "

Mary-'Gusta looked at him. "Uncle Shad, " she said, "what does all thismean, anyway? Why did you go to her house? And what was the mysteriousbusiness of yours with Mr. Keith?"

The Captain shook his head. "We've got a hen on, same as I told you, "he declared. "When it's time for the critter to come off the nest you'llsee what's been hatched same as the rest of us. How'd you like that Mrs. Wyeth? Had a pretty sharp edge on her tongue, didn't she?"

Mary-'Gusta considered. "Yes, " she answered; "she was outspoken andblunt, of course. But she is a lady--a real lady, I think--and I'm sureI should like her very much when I knew her better. I think, though, that she would expect a person to behave--behave in her way, I mean. "

"Judas! I should say so. Don't talk! I ain't felt so much as if I waskeepin' my toes on a chalk mark since I went to school. I don't knowwhat her husband died of, but I'll bet 'twasn't curvature of the spine. If he didn't stand up straight 'twasn't his wife's fault. "

Mary-'Gusta's curiosity concerning the mysterious business which hadbrought them to the city became greater than ever before it was time totake the train for home. Apparently all of that business, whatever itmight be, had been transacted when her uncle and Mr. Keith took theirshort walk together after luncheon. Captain Shadrach seemed to considerhis Boston errand done and the pair spent half of the hour before traintime wandering along Tremont and Washington Streets looking into shopwindows, and the other half in the waiting room of the South Station. 

Great and growing as was her curiosity, the girl asked no morequestions. She was determined not to ask them. And the Captain, neitherwhile in the city nor during the homeward journey, referred to the "hen"in which he and his friend from Chicago were mutually interested. Itwas not until nine o'clock that evening, when supper was over and Zoeth, having locked up the store, was with them in the sitting-room, that thehitherto secretive fowl came off the nest. 

Then Shadrach, having given his partner a look and received one inreturn, cleared his throat and spoke. 

"Mary-'Gusta, " he said, "me and your Uncle Zoeth have got some news foryou. I cal'late you've been wonderin' a little mite what that businessof Mr. Keith's and mine was, ain't you?"

Mary-'Gusta smiled. "I have wondered--just a little, " she observed, withmild sarcasm. 

"Yes--yes, I ain't surprised. Well, the business is done and it'ssettled, and it's about you. "

"About me? Why, Uncle Shad! How can it be about me?"

"'Cause it can and it is, that's why. Mary-'Gusta, me and Zoeth havebeen thinkin' about you a good deal lately and we've come to theconclusion that we ain't treated you just right. "

"Haven't treated me right? YOU?"

"Yes, us. You're a good girl and a smart girl--the smartest and bestgirl there is in this town. A girl like that ought to do somethin'better'n than stay here in South Harniss and keep store. Keepin' store'sall right for old hulks like Zoeth Hamilton and Shad Gould, but youain't an old hulk; you're a young craft right off the ways and you oughtto have a chance to cruise in the best water there is. "

"Uncle Shad, what are you talking about? Cruise in the best water?"

"That's what I said. You ought to mix with the best folks and get a fineeducation and meet somebody besides drummers and--and Sol Higgins's son. Selling coffins may be a good job, I don't say 'tain't; somebody's gotto do it and we'll all have to invest in that kind of--er--furnituresometime or 'nother. And Dan Higgins is a good enough boy, too. But heain't your kind. "

"My kind! Uncle Shad, what in the world have I got to do with DanHiggins and coffins--and all the rest of it?"

"Nothin', nothin' at all. That's what I'm tryin' to tell you if you'llgive me a chance. Mary-'Gusta, your Uncle Zoeth and I have decided thatyou must go to school up to Boston, at the Misses Cabot's school there. You'll board along with that Mrs. Wyeth, the one we met today. She'sa good woman, I cal'late, though she is so everlastin' straight up anddown. You'll board there and you'll go to school to those Cabot women. And--"

But Mary-'Gusta interrupted. The hen was off the nest now, there was nodoubt of that, and of all unexpected and impossible hatchings herswas the most complete. The absurdity of the idea, to the girl's mind, overshadowed even the surprise of it. 

"What?" she said. "Uncle Shad, what--? Do you mean that you and UncleZoeth have been in conspiracy to send me away to school? To send me awayto Boston?"

Shadrach nodded. 

"No conspiracy about it, " he declared. "Me and Zoeth and Mr. Keith, we--"

"Mr. Keith? Yes, yes, I see. It was Mr. Keith who put the idea in yourhead. How perfectly silly!"

"Silly? Why is it silly?"

"Because it is. It's ridiculous. "

"No, it ain't, it's common sense. Other girls go to city finishin'schools, don't they? That Irene Mullet's just gone, for one. Don't youthink we figger to do as much for our girl as Becky Mullet can do forhers? Jumpin' fire! If you ain't worth a hogshead of girls like IreneMullet then I miss my guess. "

"Hush, Uncle Shad; what difference does that make?"

And now Zoeth put in a word. "Mary-'Gusta, " he said, "you know what agood school like the one Shad's been speakin' of can do for a girl. Iknow you know it. Now, be right down honest; wouldn't you like to have acouple of years, say, at a school like that, if you could have 'em justas well as not? Didn't you say not more'n a fortni't ago that you wasglad Irene Mullet was goin' to have such a chance to improve herself?"

Mary-'Gusta had said that very thing; she could not truthfully deny it. 

"Of course I did, " she answered. "And I am glad. But Irene's case andmine are different. Irene isn't needed at home. I am, and--"

Shadrach broke in. "Ah, ha! Ah, ha! Zoeth, " he crowed, triumphantly. "Didn't I tell you she'd say that? I knew she'd say she wouldn't go'cause she'd think she'd ought to stay here and look out for us. Well, Mary-'Gusta, you listen to me. Zoeth and I are your guardians, lawfullyappointed. We're your bosses, young lady, for a spell yet. And you'regoin' to do as we say. "

"But--"

"There ain't any 'buts. ' The 'buts' are all past and gone. Mr. Keithhas arranged for you to board and room along with Mrs. Wyeth and I'vearranged for your schoolin' at the Cabot place. Yes, and I've donemore'n that: I paid for your first year's schoolin' this very afternoon. So there! THAT'S ended. "

It was not ended, of course. Mary-'Gusta went to her room that nightdeclaring she would not leave her uncles to attend any finishing school. They went to theirs vowing that she should. The real end came the nextday when Zoeth put the subject before her in a new light by saying:

"Look here, Mary-'Gusta; just listen to me a minute and think. Supposethe boot was on t'other foot: suppose you wanted us to do somethin' toplease you, you'd expect us to do it, wouldn't you? Anyhow, you knowmighty well we WOULD do it. Now we want you to do this to please us. We've set our hearts on it. "

Mary-'Gusta was silent for a minute or more. The partners watched heranxiously. Then she asked an unusual question, one concerning her ownfinancial status. 

"Can I afford it?" she asked. "Have I money enough of my own?"

Zoeth looked troubled. Shadrach, however, answered promptly anddiplomatically. 

"Haven't I told you, " he said, "that Zoeth and me are your guardians?And didn't I say we'd gone into the thing careful and deliberate? Anddidn't I pay your first year's schoolin' yesterday? Don't that aloneshow what we think about the money. Be still, Zoeth; that's enough. Well, Mary-'Gusta?"

Mary-'Gusta considered a moment longer. Then she rose and, crossing theroom, gave them each a kiss. 

"I'll go, " she said, simply. "I'll go because I think you mean it andthat it will please you. For that reason and no other I'll go. "

CHAPTER XI

The Misses Cabot's school was to open on the fifteenth of September and, on the morning of the fourteenth, Mary-'Gusta bade her guardians good-byon the platform of the South Harniss railway station. Shadrach hadintended going to Boston with her, but she had firmly insisted on goingalone. 

"I must get used to being away from you both, " she said, "and you mustget used to having me go. It will be best for all of us to say good-byhere. It won't be for VERY long; I'll be home at Christmas, you know. "

The three weeks prior to the fateful fourteenth had been crowded withactivities. Twice the girl and Captain Shadrach had journeyed to Boston, where in company with Mrs. Wyeth, whose services had been volunteeredin a crisp but kindly note, they visited shops and selected andpurchased--that is, the feminine members of the party selected and theCaptain paid for--a suit and waists and hats and other things which itappeared were necessary for the wardrobe of a young lady at finishingschool. Shadrach would have bought lavishly, but Mrs. Wyeth's commonsense guided the selections and Mary-'Gusta was very particular as toprice. Shadrach, at the beginning, made a few suggestions concerningcolors and styles, but the suggestions were disregarded. The Captain'staste in colors was not limited; he fancied almost any hue, providedit was bright enough. His ward would have looked like an animated crazyquilt if he had had his way. 

He grumbled a little as they journeyed back to South Harniss. 

"She may be all right, that Wyeth woman, " he said, "but she's tooeverlastin' sober-sided to suit me. Take that hat you and she bought;why, 'twas as plain, and hadn't no more fuss and feathers than aminister's wife's bonnet. You ain't an old maid; no, nor a Bostonfirst-family widow, neither. Now, the hat I liked--the yellow and blueone--had some get-up-and-git. If you wore that out on Tremont Streetfolks would turn around and look at you. "

Mary-'Gusta laughed and squeezed his hand. "You silly Uncle Shad, " shesaid, "don't you know that is exactly what I don't want them to do?"

Shadrach turned his gaze in her direction. She was at the end of thecar seat next to the window and against the light of the setting sun herface and head were silhouetted in dainty profile. The Captain sighed. 

"Well, " he said, philosophically, "I don't know's we need to argue. Ical'late they'll look some as 'tis. "

Her parting instructions to her uncles were many and diversified. Zoethmust be sure and change to his heavy flannels on the first of October. He must not forget rubbers when the ground was damp, and an umbrellawhen it rained. If he caught cold there was the medicine Doctor Harleyhad prescribed. He must not sit up after ten o'clock; he must not tryto read the paper without first hunting for his spectacles. These were afew of his orders. Shadrach's list was even longer. It included goingto church every other Sunday: keeping his Sunday shoes blacked: notforgetting to change his collar every morning: to get his hair cutat least once in six weeks: not to eat pie just before going to bed, "because you know if you do, you always have the nightmare and groanand moan and wake up everyone but yourself": not to say "Jumpin'" or"Creepin' Judas" any oftener than he could help: to be sure and notcut prices in the store just because a customer asked him to do so--andgoodness knows how much more. 

As for Isaiah Chase, his list was so lengthy and varied that theresponsibility quite overwhelmed him. 

"Gosh t'mighty!" exclaimed Isaiah, desperately. "I'll never be able tolive up to all them sailin' orders and I know it. I've put some of 'emdown on a piece of paper, but I ain't even got them straight, and as forthe million or two others--whew! I'm to dust every day, and sweep everyother day, and change the tablecloth, and see that the washin' goes whenit ought to, and feed the horse the cat--no, no, feed the cat oats--Oh, consarn it! Feed the cat and the horse and the hens their reg'larvittles at reg'lar times and--and--Oh, my soul! Yes, and let alone myown self and all that's laid onto me, I must keep an eye on Captain Shadand Zoeth and see that they do what's been laid onto THEM. I swan toman! I'm a hard-workin', painstakin' feller of my age, but I ain't asyoung as I used to be, and I'm human and not a walkin' steam-engyne. I'll do the best I can, but--but first thing you know I'll be drove intoheavin' up my job. THEN this craft'll be on its beam ends, I bet you!They'll appreciate me then, when it's too late. "

The farewells at the railway station were brief. They were very hard tosay and neither the partners nor Mary-'Gusta could trust themselves totalk more than was necessary. The train drew up beside the platform;then it moved on. A hand waved from the car window; Shadrach and Zoethwaved in return. The rear car disappeared around the curve by SolomonHiggins' cranberry shanty. 

Mr. Hamilton sighed heavily. 

"She's gone, Shadrach, " he said. "Mary-'Gusta's gone. "

Shadrach echoed the sigh. 

"Yes, she's gone, " he agreed. "I feel as if the best part of you and mehad gone along with her. Well, t'other parts have got to go back to thestore and wait on customers, I presume likely. Heave ahead and let's doit. Ah, hum! I cal'late we'd ought to be thankful we've got work to do, Zoeth. It'll help take up our minds. There are goin' to be lonesome daysfor you and me, shipmate. "

There were lonely days for Mary-'Gusta also, those of that first monthat Mrs. Wyeth's and at the Misses Cabot's school. For the first time inher life she realized what it meant to be homesick. But in the letterswhich she wrote to her uncles not a trace of the homesickness waspermitted to show and little by little its keenest pangs wore away. She, too, was thankful for work, for the study which kept her from thinkingof other things. 

The Misses Cabot--their Christian names were Priscilla and Hortense--shefound to be middle-aged maiden ladies, eminently prim and proper, and the educational establishment over which they presided a sort ofProtestant nunnery ruled according to the precepts of the CongregationalChurch and the New England aristocracy. Miss Priscilla was tall and thinand her favorite author was Emerson; she quoted Emerson extensively andwas certain that real literature died when he did. Miss Hortensewas younger, plumper, and more romantic. She quoted Longfellow andoccasionally Oliver Wendell Holmes, although she admitted she consideredthe latter rather too frivolous at times. Both sisters were learned, dignified, and strict disciplinarians. Also, in the eyes of both a maleperson younger than forty-five was labeled "Danger--Keep Away. " Butone creature of the masculine gender taught in their school; he waswhite-haired Doctor Barnes, professor of the dead languages. It was theprevailing opinion among the scholars that Doctor Barnes, when at home, occupied an apartment in the Greek Antiquity section of the Art Museum, where he slept and ate surrounded by the statues and busts of hiscontemporaries. 

As for the scholars themselves, there were about forty of them, girls--or young ladies: the Misses Cabot invariably referred toand addressed them as "young ladies"--from Boston and New York andPhiladelphia, even from Chicago and as far south as Baltimore. Almostall were the daughters of well-to-do parents, almost all had their homesin cities. There were very few who, like Mary-'Gusta, had lived alltheir lives in the country. Some were pretty, some were not; some weregiddy and giggly, some solemn and studious, some either according tomood; some were inclined to be snobbish, others simple and "everyday. "In short, the school was like almost any school of its kind. 

Mary-'Gusta entered this school and, doing so, ceased to be Mary-'Gusta, becoming Miss Lathrop to her instructors and Mary to her intimates amongthe scholars. And at Mrs. Wyeth's she was Mary or Miss Lathrop or MissMary, according to the age, length of acquaintance, or station of theperson addressing her. But she always thought of herself as Mary-'Gustaand her letters written to Uncle Shad or Uncle Zoeth were so signed. 

She found, after the hard work of beginning, that she could keep abreastof her class in studies without undue exertion. Also she found that, thesnobs excepted, the girls at the Misses Cabot's school were inclined tobe sociable and friendly. She made no bid for their friendship, being aself-respecting young person whose dislike of imitation was as strong asever, but, perhaps because she did not bid or imitate but continuedto be simply and sincerely herself, friends came to her. Most of thesefriends received monthly allowances far greater than hers, and most ofthem wore more expensive gowns and in greater variety, but she showedno envy nor offered apologies, and if she sometimes wished, being human, that her wardrobe was a trifle more extensive she kept that wish toherself. 

Her liking for Mrs. Wyeth grew into a real affection. And the prim andpractical matron grew more and more fond of her. The girl came to beconsidered, and almost to consider herself, one of the family. The"family" consisted of Mrs. Wyeth, Mary, Miss Pease, the other "payingguest, " and Maggie, the maid, and Nora, the cook. Miss Pease was anelderly spinster without near relatives, possessed of an income and alove of travel which she gratified by occasional European trips. Sheand her closest friend, Mrs. Wyeth, disagreed on many subjects, butthey united in the belief that Boston was a suburb of Paradise and thatWilliam Ellery Channing was the greatest of religious leaders. Theyat-tended the Arlington Street Unitarian Church, and Mary oftenaccompanied them there for Sunday morning or afternoon service. 

The conviction of the Misses Cabot that youthful manhood was dangerousand to be shunned like the plague Mary soon discovered was not sharedby the majority of the young ladies. If Miss Priscilla and Miss Hortensehad had their way Harvard University and the Institute of Technologywould have been moved forthwith to some remote spot like the North Poleor San Francisco. There were altogether too many "cousins" or "sonsof old family friends" calling at the school to deliver messages fromparents or guardians or the said friends. These messengers, younggentlemen with budding mustaches and full-blown raiment, were rigidlyinspected and their visits carefully chaperoned: but letters came andwere treasured and the cheerful inanity of their contents imparted, instrict secrecy, to bosom friends of the recipients. 

Mary received no such letters. No cousins or family friends called todeliver messages to her. No photographs of young fellows in letteredsweaters were hidden among her belongings. Her friends in the schoolthought this state of affairs very odd and they sometimes asked pointedquestions. 

Miss Barbara Howe, whose home was in Brookline and whose father was thesenior partner of an old and well-known firm of downtown merchants, wasthe leading questioner. She liked Mary and the latter liked her. Barbarawas pretty and full of spirits and, although she was the only child, anda rather spoiled one, in a wealthy family, there was no snobbishness inher make-up. 

"But I can't see, " she declared, "what you have been doing all the time. Where have you been keeping yourself? Don't you know ANYBODY?"

Mary smiled. "Oh, yes, " she replied, "I know a good many people. "

"You know what I mean. Don't you know any of the fellows at Harvard, orTech, or Yale, or anywhere? I know dozens. And you must know some. Youknow Sam Keith; you said you did. "

Mary admitted that she knew Sam slightly. 

"Isn't he fun! Sam and I are great chums. Doesn't he dance divinely!"

"I don't know. I never saw him dance. "

"Then you've missed something. Do you know his friend, the one on thefootball team--Crawford Smith, his name is--do you know him?"

Mary nodded. "I--I've met him, " she said. 

"You HAVE? Don't you think he is perfectly splendid?"

"I don't know. Is he?"

"Of course he is. Haven't you read about him in the papers? He made thatlong run for a touchdown in the Yale game. Oh, you should have seen it!I couldn't speak for two days after that game. He was just as cool andcalm. All the Yale men were trying to get him and he dodged--I never sawanyone so cool and who kept his head so well. "

"I thought the papers spoke most of the way he kept his feet. "

"Then you did read about it! Of course you did! I'm just dying to knowhim. All the girls are crazy about him. Where did you meet him? Tellme!"

Mary smiled. On the occasion of her only meeting with Crawford Smiththat young fellow had been anything but cool. 

"I met him in my uncle's store at South Harniss, " she said. "It wasthree years ago. "

"And you haven't seen him since? He is a great friend of Sam's. AndSam's people have a summer home at the Cape. Perhaps you'll meet himthere again. "

"Perhaps. "

"Goodness! One would think you didn't want to. "

"Why, I don't know that I do, particularly. Why should I?"

"Why should you! Mary Lathrop, I do think you are the queerest girl. Youdon't talk like a girl at all. Sometimes I think you are as old as--asPrissy. " "Prissy" was the disrespectful nickname by which the youngladies referred, behind her back, to Miss Priscilla Cabot. 

Mary laughed. "Not quite, I hope, " she said. "But I don't see why Ishould be so very anxious to meet Crawford Smith. And I'm sure he isn'tanxious to meet me. If all the other girls are crazy about him, thatought to be enough, I should think. "

This astonishing profession of indifference to the fascination of thefootball hero, indifference which Miss Barbara declared to be onlymake-believe, was made on a Saturday. The next day, as Mrs. Wyethand Mary were on their way home from church, the former made anannouncement. 

"We are to have a guest, perhaps guests, at dinner this noon, " shesaid. Sunday dinner at Mrs. Wyeth's was served, according to New Englandcustom, at one o'clock. 

"Samuel, Mr. John Keith's son, is to dine with us, " continued Mrs. Wyeth. "He may bring a college friend with him. You have met Samuel, haven't you, Mary?"

Mary said that she had. She was a trifle embarrassed at the prospect ofmeeting Sam Keith in her new surroundings. At home, in South Harniss, they had met many times, but always at the store. He was pleasantand jolly and she liked him well enough, although she had refused hisinvitations to go on sailing parties and the like. She knew perfectlywell that his mother and sister would not have approved of theseinvitations, for in the feminine Keith mind there was a great gulf fixedbetween the summer resident and the native. The latter was to be helpedand improved but not encouraged socially beyond a certain point. Marysought neither help nor improvement of that kind. Sam, it is true, hadnever condescended or patronized, but he had never called at her homenor had she been asked to visit his. 

And now she was to meet him in a house where she was considered one ofthe family. His father had been influential in bringing her there. DidSam know this and, if he did, what influence would the knowledge haveupon his manner toward her? Would he be lofty and condescending or, onthe other hand, would he pretend a familiar acquaintanceship which didnot exist? Alone in her room she considered these questions and then putthem from her mind. Whatever his manner might be, hers, she determined, should be what it had always been. And if any embarrassment was evidentto others at this meeting it should not be on her part. 

When she came downstairs, Mrs. Wyeth called to her to come into theparlor. As she entered the room two young men rose from the chairsbeside the mahogany center table. One of these young men was Sam Keith;she had expected to see Sam, of course. But the other--the other was thevery individual in whose daring deeds and glorified personality she hadexpressed a complete lack of interest only the day before, the youngfellow whom she had last seen racing madly across the fields in the rearof Hamilton and Company's store with the larger portion of a sheet ofsticky fly paper attached to his white flannels. Mr. Crawford Smith wastaller and broader than on that memorable occasion but she recognizedhim instantly. 

It was evident that he did not recognize her. Mrs. Wyeth came to meether. 

"Mary, " she said, "you know Samuel, I think. You and he have met before. Samuel, will you introduce your friend?"

Sam was staring at Mary with eyes which expressed a variety of emotions, intense surprise the most prominent. He was in a state which BarbaraHowe would have described as "fussed, " one most unusual for him. He hadknown of Mary's presence in the house; after the affair was settled JohnKeith told his family what he had done, facing with serene philosophyhis wife's displeasure and prophecies of certain regrets. Sam had vividand pleasing recollections of the pretty country girl in the SouthHarniss store. He had not told his college friend that they were to meether that day, one reason being that he was not certain they would meet, and the other a secret misgiving that it might be well to wait andinspect and listen before boasting of previous acquaintanceship. Sam'smother had lectured him on the subject before he left home. "Don't betoo familiar, Sam, " was her warning. "You may be sorry if you do. Thegirl is well enough here in South Harniss, where she is accustomedto her surroundings, but in Boston she may be quite out of place andimpossible. I have told your father so, but he won't listen, of course. Don't YOU be foolish, for my sake. "

But here was no green country girl. The self-possessed young woman whostood before him looked no more out of place and impossible in Mrs. Wyeth's dignified and aristocratic parlor than she had in the storewhere he had last seen her. Her gown was simple and inexpensive butit was stylish and becoming. And her manner--well, her manner wasdistinctly more at ease than his at that moment. Mary had been but eightweeks among the Misses Cabot's young ladies, but she had used her eyesand her brain during that time; she was adaptable and had learned otherthings than those in the curriculum. Also, she was prepared for thismeeting and had made up her mind to show no embarrassment. 

So the usually blase Samuel was the embarrassed party. He looked andstammered. Mrs. Wyeth was surprised and shocked. 

"Samuel, " she said sharply, "what is the matter with you? Why don't youspeak and not stand there staring?"

Sam, with an effort, recovered some of his self-possession. 

"Was I staring?" he said. "I beg your pardon, Cousin Emily. Er--How doyou do, Miss Lathrop?"

Mrs. Wyeth sniffed. 

"Mercy!" she exclaimed. "Is your acquaintance as formal as that? Ithought you knew each other. The boys and girls of this generation arebeyond me. 'Miss Lathrop, ' indeed!"

Mary smiled. "Perhaps he didn't expect to see me here, Mrs. Wyeth, " shesaid. "How do you do, Sam?"

She and Sam shook hands. Mrs. Wyeth asked another question. 

"Didn't you know Mary was with me, Samuel?" she asked. 

"Oh, yes, Cousin Emily, I knew. I knew she was here, of course. But--butI didn't--by George!" with a sudden outburst of his real feelings, "Ihardly knew her, though. Really, I didn't. "

Mary laughed. "Have I grown so much older in two months?" she asked. 

"Oh, you haven't changed that way. I--I--" The young man, realizing thathe was getting into deep water, seized an opportunity to scramble out. "Oh, I forgot!" he exclaimed. "Sorry, Crawford. Mary--Miss Lathrop, Iwant to present my friend, Crawford Smith. He's my roommate at college. "

Mary and Crawford shook hands. 

"I have met Mr. Smith, too, before, " she said. 

The young gentlemen, both of them, looked astonished. 

"Have you?" cried Sam. "Oh, I say! I didn't know that. When was it?"

His friend, too, was plainly puzzled. "I hardly think so, " he said. "Idon't believe I should have forgotten it. I don't remember--"

"Don't you remember coming into my uncles' store at South Harnisswith Miss Keith, Sam's sister? You bought some"--with a mischievoustwinkle--"some marshmallows, among other things. I sold them to you. "

"You? Great Scott! Are you--why that girl's name was--what was it?"

"It was the same as mine, Mary Augusta Lathrop. But in South Harnissthey call me Mary-'Gusta. "

"That was it! And you are Mary-'Gusta? Yes, of course you are! Well, I ought to be ashamed, I suppose, but I didn't recognize you. I AMashamed. I was awfully obliged to you that day. You helped me out of ascrape. "

Sam, who had been listening with increasing curiosity, broke in. 

"Say, what's all this?" he demanded. "When was this, Crawford? Whatscrape? You never told me. "

"And you didn't tell me that Miss Lathrop was here. You didn't say aword about her. "

"Eh? Didn't I? I must have forgotten to mention it. She--she IS here, you know. " Mrs. Wyeth shook her head. 

"Samuel, you're perfectly idiotic today, " she declared. "Of course sheis here; anyone with eyes can see she is. She is--ahem--visiting meand she is attending the Misses Cabot's school. There! Now, Mr. Smithunderstands, I hope. And dinner is ready. Don't any of you say anotherword until we are at the table. My father used to say that lukewarm soupwas the worst sort of cold reception and I agree with him. "

During dinner Sam was tremendously curious to discover how and where hisfriend and Mary had met and what the scrape might be to which Crawfordhad referred. But his curiosity was unsatisfied. Mr. Smith refused totell and Mary only smiled and shook her head when questioned. 

The young people furnished most of the conversation during the meal. The recent football season and its triumphant ending were discussed, ofcourse, and the prospects of the hockey team came in for its share. Sam, it appeared, was out for a place on the hockey squad. 

"You must see some of the games, Mary, " he said. "I'll get tickets foryou and Cousin Emily. You're crazy about sports, aren't you, CousinEmily. "

Mrs. Wyeth regarded him through her eyeglasses. 

"I imagine, " she observed, "that that remark is intended as a joke. Isaw one football game and the spectacle of those boys trampling eachother to death before my eyes, and of you, Samuel Keith, hopping up anddown shrieking, 'Tear 'em up' and 'Smash 'em' was the nearest approachto insanity I ever experienced. Since that time I have regarded DoctorEliot as President Emeritus of an asylum and NOT a university. "

Sam was hugely delighted. "That's football, " he declared. "I will admitthat no one but lunatics like Crawford here play football. Hockey, now, is different. I play hockey. "

Crawford seemed surprised. 

"Do you?" he asked, with eager interest. "No one has ever guessed it, not even the coach. You shouldn't keep it a secret from HIM, Sam. "

Miss Pease, having been invited out that day, was not present at dinner. After the coffee was served the irrepressible Sam proposed a walk. 

"You won't care to go, Cousin Emily, " he said, "but I'm sure Mary will. It is a fine afternoon and she needs the air. Crawford isn't much of awalker; he can stay and keep Cousin Emily company. We won't be long. "

Before Mary could decline this disinterested invitation Mrs. Wyeth savedher the trouble. 

"Thank you, Samuel, " she said, crisply. "Your kindness is appreciated, particularly by Mr. Smith and myself. I can see that he is delightedwith the idea. But Mary and I are going to the afternoon service at theArlington Street church. So you will have to excuse us. "

This should have been a squelcher, but it was not. Sam announced that heand Crawford would go with them. "We were thinking of going to church, weren't we, Crawford? It is just what I suggested, you remember. "

Mrs. Wyeth said "Humph, " and that was all. She and Mary went to theirrooms to get ready. Sam, surprised at the unexpected success of hissudden inspiration and immensely tickled, chuckled in triumph. But hisjoy was materially lessened when the quartette left the house. 

"These sidewalks are too narrow for four, " declared Mrs. Wyeth. "Samuel, you may walk with me. Mary, you and Mr. Smith must keep close at ourheels and walk fast. I never permit myself or my guests to be late atchurch. "

During the walk Crawford asked a number of questions. How long had hiscompanion been in the city? How long did she intend staying? Did sheplan returning to the school for another year? Where would she spend theChristmas vacation? Mary said she was going home, to South Harniss, forthe holidays. 

"It's a bully old place, Cape Cod, " declared Crawford. "I never had abetter time than I did on that visit at Sam's. Wish I were going thereagain some day. "

"Why don't you?" asked Mary. 

The young man shook his head. "Orders from home, " he said. "Fatherinsists on my coming home to him the moment the term closes. I made thatvisit to Sam's on my own responsibility and I got fits for doing it. Dadseems to have a prejudice against the East. He won't come here himselfand he doesn't like to have me stay any longer than is absolutelynecessary. When I wrote him I was at South Harniss he telegraphed me tocome home in a hurry. He is Eastern born himself, lived somewherethis way when he was young, but he doesn't talk about it and has moreprejudices against Eastern ways and Eastern people than if he'd livedall his life in Carson City. Won't even come on to see me play football. I doubt if he comes to Commencement next spring; and I graduate, too. "

"I wonder he permitted you to go to Harvard, " said Mary. 

"He had to permit it. I've always been for Harvard ever since I thoughtabout college. Dad was all for a Western university, but I sat back inthe stirrups and pulled for Harvard and finally he gave in. He generallygives in if I buck hard enough. He's a bully old Dad and we're greatpals, more like brothers than father and son. The only point where wedisagree is his confounded sectional prejudice. He thinks the sun notonly sets in the West but rises there. "

The girl learned that he intended entering the Harvard Medical School inthe fall. 

"I had to fight for that, too, " he said, with a laugh. "I've alwayswanted to be a doctor but Dad wouldn't give in for ever so long. He isinterested in mining properties there at home and it was his idea that Ishould come in with him when I finished school. But I couldn't see it. I wanted to study medicine. Dad says there are almost as many starvingdoctors as there are down-at-the-heel lawyers; if I go in with him, hesays, I shall have what is practically a sure thing and a soft snap forthe rest of my days. That doesn't suit me. I want to work; I expect to. I want to paddle my own canoe. I may be the poorest M. D. That ever putup a sign, but I'm going to put that sign up just the same. And if Istarve I shan't ask him or anyone else to feed me. "

He laughed again as he said it, but there was a determined ring in hisvoice and a square set to his chin which Mary noticed and liked. Hemeant what he said, that was evident. 

"I think a doctor's profession is one of the noblest and finest in theworld, " she said. 

"Do you? Good for you! So do I. It doesn't bring in the dollars as fastas some others, but it does seem a man's job to me. The big specialistsmake a lot of money too, but that isn't exactly what I mean. Some of thebest men I've met were just country doctors, working night and day inall sorts of weather and getting paid or not, just as it happened. Thatold Doctor Harley down in your town is one of that kind, I think. I sawsomething of his work while I was there. "

"Did you? I shouldn't have thought you had time for that, with all thepicnics and sailing parties. "

"I did, though. I met him at Sam's. Mrs. Keith had a cold or a cough orsomething. He and I got to talking and he asked me to come and see him. I went, you bet! Went out with him on some of his drives while he madehis calls, you know. He told me a lot of things. He's a brick. "

"It's queer, " he went on, after a moment, "but I felt really at homedown there in that little place. Seemed as if I had been there beforeand--and--by George, almost as if I belonged there. It was my firstexperience on and around salt water, but that seemed natural, too. Andthe people--I mean the people that belong there, not the summer crowd--Iliked them immensely. Those two fine old cards that kept the store--Eh, I beg pardon; they are relatives of yours, aren't they? I forgot. "

"They are my uncles, " said Mary, simply. "I have lived with them almostall my life. They are the best men in the world. "

"They seemed like it. I'd like to know them better. Hello! here's thatconfounded church. I've enjoyed this walk ever so much. Guess I've doneall the talking, though. Hope I haven't bored you to death gassing aboutmy affairs. "

"No, you haven't. I enjoyed it. "

"Did you really? Yes, I guess you did or you wouldn't say so. You don'tact like a girl that pretends. By George! It's a relief to have someoneto talk to, someone that understands and appreciates what a fellow isthinking about. Most girls want to talk football and dancing and allthat. I like football immensely and dancing too, but there is somethingelse in life. Even Sam--he's as good as they make but he doesn't care tolisten to anything serious--that is, not long. "

Mary considered. "I enjoyed listening, " she said, "and I was glad tohear you liked South Harniss and my uncles. "

On the way home, after the service, it was Sam Keith who escorted Mary, while Mrs. Wyeth walked with Mr. Smith. Sam's conversation was notburdened with seriousness. Hockey, dances, and good times were thesubjects he dealt with. Was his companion fond of dancing? Would sheaccompany him to one of the club dances some time? They were great fun. Mrs. Wyeth could chaperon them, of course. 

Mary said she was afraid she would be too busy to accept. As a matterof fact, knowing what she did of his mother's feelings, she would haveaccepted no invitations from Sam Keith even if nothing else preventedher doing so. 

"My studies take a good deal of my time, " she said. 

Sam laughed. "You'll get over that, " he declared. "I studied like blueblazes my freshman year, but after that--I should worry. Say, I'mmighty glad I came over here today. I'm coming again. I'll be a regularboarder. "

The young men said good-by at the Wyeth door. Mrs. Wyeth did not askthem in, although the persistent Samuel threw out some pointed hints. 

Crawford Smith and Mary shook hands. 

"I've had an awfully good time, " declared the former. Then, turning toMrs. Wyeth, he asked: "May I call occasionally?"

Mrs. Wyeth's answer was, as usual, frank and unmistakable. 

"Yes, " she said. "I shall be very glad to see you--occasionally. "

Crawford turned to Mary. 

"May I?" he asked. 

Mary scarcely knew how to reply. There was no real reason why he shouldnot call; she liked him so far. His frankness and earnestness of purposeappealed to her. And yet she was not at all sure that it was wise tocontinue the acquaintance. In her mind this coming to Boston to schoolwas a very serious matter. Her uncles had sent her there to study; theyneeded her at home, but that need they had sacrificed in order thatshe might study and improve. Nothing else, friendships or good times oranything, must interfere with the purpose with which she had acceptedthe sacrifice. 

So she hesitated. 

"May I?" repeated Crawford. 

"Why, I don't know. I imagine I shall be very busy most of the time. "

"That's all right. If you're busy you can send word for me to vamoose. That will be part of the bargain. Good-by. "

Mrs. Wyeth's first remark, after entering, was concerning Sam's friend. 

"I rather like that young person, " she said. "Samuel idolizes him, ofcourse, but Samuel would worship a hyena if it played football. But thisSmith boy"--in Mrs. Wyeth's mind any male under thirty was a boy--"seemsto have some common sense and a mind of his own. I don't approve of hisname nor the howling wilderness he comes from, but he can't help thosedrawbacks, I suppose. However, if he is to call here we must knowsomething about him. I shall make inquiries. "

CHAPTER XII

The school term ended on a Saturday morning in mid-December. Mary'strunk was packed and ready, and she and it reached the South Stationlong before train time. She was going home, home for the holidays, andif she had been going on a trip around the world she could not have beenmore delighted at the prospect. And her delight and anticipations wereshared in South Harniss. Her uncles' letters for the past fortnight hadcontained little except joyful announcements of preparations for hercoming. 

We are counting the minutes [wrote Zoeth]. The first thing Shadrach doesevery morning is to scratch another day off the calendar. I never sawhim so worked up and excited and I calculate I ain't much differentmyself. I try not to set my heart on things of this world more than Iought to, but it does seem as if I couldn't think of much else but ourgirl's coming back to us. I am not going to worry the way Shadrach doesabout your getting here safe and sound. The Lord's been mighty good tous and I am sure He will fetch you to our door all right. I am contentedto trust you in His hands. 

P. S. One or both of us will meet you at the depot. 

Captain Shad's epistle was more worldly but not more coherent. 

Be sure and take the train that comes right on through [he wrote]. Don'ttake the one that goes to Woods Hole. Zoeth is so fidgety and nervousfor fear you will make a mistake that he keeps me on pins and needles. Isaiah ain't much better. He swept out the setting-room twice last weekand if he don't roast the cat instead of the chicken he is calculatingto kill, it will be a mercy. I am the only one aboard the ship thatkeeps his head and I tell them not to worry. Be sure you take thatthrough train. And look out for them electric cars, if you come to thedepot in one. Better settle on the one you are going to take and thentake the one ahead of it so as to be sure and not be late. Your trainleaves the dock at quarter-past four. The Woods Hole one is two minutesearlier. Look out and not take that. Zoeth is afraid you will make amistake, but I laugh at him. Don't take the wrong train. 

Mary laughed when she read these letters, but there was a choke in thelaugh. In spite of the perils of travel by the electrics and the NewHaven railroad, she reached South Harniss safe, sound, and reasonablyon time. The first person she saw on the platform of the station wasCaptain Shadrach. He had been pacing that platform for at least fortyminutes. 

He spied her at the same time and came rushing to greet her, both handsoutstretched. 

"And here you be!" he exclaimed with enthusiasm. 

Mary laughed happily. 

"Yes, Uncle Shad, here I am, " she said. "Are you glad to see me?"

Shadrach looked at her. 

"JUMPIN'!" was the only answer he made, but it was fervent andsufficient. 

They rode home together in the old buggy. As they reached the corner bythe store Mary expected the vehicle to be brought to a halt at the curb, but it was not. The Captain chirruped to the horse and drove straighton. 

"Why, Uncle Shad!" exclaimed the girl. "Aren't you going to stop?"

"Eh? Stop? What for?"

"Why, to see Uncle Zoeth, of course. He's at the store, isn't he?"

Shadrach shook his head. 

"No, he ain't, " he said. "He's to home. "

Mary was amazed and a trifle alarmed. One partner of Hamilton andCompany was there in the buggy with her. By all the rules of precedentand South Harniss business the other should have been at the store. Sheknew that her uncles had employed no clerk or assistant since she left. 

"But--but is Uncle Zoeth sick?" she asked. 

"Sick? No, no, course he ain't sick. If he didn't have no better sensethan to get sick the day you come home I'd--I'd--I don't know'sI wouldn't drown him. HE ain't sick--unless, " he added, as anafterthought, "he's got Saint Vitus dance from hoppin' up and down tolook out of the window, watchin' for us. "

"But if he isn't sick, why isn't he at the store? Who is there?"

The Captain chuckled. 

"Not a solitary soul, " he declared. "That store's shut up tight andit's goin' to stay that way this whole blessed evenin'. Zoeth and mewe talked it over. I didn't know but we'd better get Abel Snow's boy orthat pesky Annabel or somebody to stay while we was havin' supper. Yousee, we was both sot on eatin' supper with you tonight, no matter storeor not, and Isaiah, he was just as sot as we was. But all to once Zoethhad an idea. 'Shadrach, ' he says, 'in Scriptur' times when people wasreal happy, same as we are now, they used to make a sacrifice to theAlmighty to show how glad and grateful they was. Let's you and me make asacrifice; let's sacrifice this evenin's trade--let's shut up the storeon account of our girl's comin' home. ' 'Good idea!' says I, so we didit. "

Mary looked at him reproachfully. 

"Oh, Uncle Shad, " she said, "you shouldn't have done that. It was dearand sweet of you to think of it, but you shouldn't have done it. Itdidn't need any sacrifice to prove that you were glad to see me. "

Shadrach winked over his shoulder. 

"Don't let that sacrifice worry you any, " he observed. "The sacrifice ismainly in Zoeth's eye. Fur's I'm concerned--well, Jabez Hedges toldme yesterday that Rastus Young told him he cal'lated he'd have to bedroppin' in at the store some of these nights to buy some rubber bootsand new ileskins. We sold him the ones he's got four years ago and heain't paid for 'em yet. No, no, Mary-'Gusta, don't you worry about thatsacrifice. I can sacrifice Rastus Young's trade eight days in the weekand make money by it. Course I didn't tell Zoeth that; have to humorthese pious folks much as we can, you know. "

Mary smiled, but she shook her head. "It's no use your talking to me inthat way, Uncle Shad, " she said. "I know you too well. And right in theChristmas season, too!"

Zoeth's welcome was as hearty, if not as exuberant, as Captain Shad's. He met her at the door and after the first hug and kiss held her off atarm's length and looked her over. 

"My! my! my!" he exclaimed. "And this is our little Mary-'Gusta comeback again! It don't seem as if it could be, somehow. "

"But it is, Uncle Zoeth, " declared Mary, laughing. "And ISN'T it goodto be here! Well, Isaiah, " turning to Mr. Chase, who, aproned andshirtsleeved as usual, had been standing grinning in the background, "haven't you anything to say to me?"

Isaiah had something to say and he said it. 

"Glad to see you, " he announced. "Feelin' pretty smart? Got a new hat, ain't you? Supper's ready. "

During the meal Mary was kept busy answering questions concerning schooland her life at Mrs. Wyeth's. In her letters she had endeavored to tellevery possible item of news which might be interesting to her uncles, but now these items were one by one recalled, reviewed, and discussed. 

"'Twas kind of funny, that young Smith feller's turnin' up for dinnerthat time, " observed Mr. Hamilton. "Cal'late you was some surprised tosee him, wan't you?"

Mary smiled. "Why, yes, " she said, "but I think he was more surprised tosee me, Uncle Zoeth. "

Captain Shad laughed heartily. "Shouldn't wonder, " he admitted. "Didn'tbring any fly paper along with him, did he? No? Well, that was anoversight. Maybe he thought fly time was past and gone. He seemed to bea real nice kind of young feller when he was down here that summer. He'solder now; does he seem that way yet?"

"Why, yes, I think so. I only saw him for a little while. "

Isaiah seemed to think it time for him to put in a question. 

"Good lookin' as ever, I cal'late, ain't he?" he observed. 

Mary was much amused. "Why, I suppose he is, " she answered. "But why inthe world are you interested in his good looks, Isaiah?"

Mr. Chase did his best to assume an expression of deep cunning. Hewinked at his employers. 

"Oh, I ain't interested--not 'special, " he declared, "but I didn't knowbut SOME folks might be. Ho, ho!"

He roared at his own pleasantry. Captain Shadrach, however, did notlaugh. 

"Some folks?" he repeated, tartly. "What are you talkin' about? Whatfolks?"

"Oh, I ain't sayin' what folks. I'm just sayin' SOME folks. Ho, ho! Youknow what I mean, don't you, Mary-'Gusta?"

Before Mary could reply the Captain cut in again. 

"No, she don't know what you mean, neither, " he declared, with emphasis. "That's enough of that now, Isaiah. Don't be any bigger fool than youcan help. "

The self-satisfied grin faded from Isaiah's face and was succeeded by alook of surprised and righteous indignation. 

"Wha--what's that?" he stammered. "What's that you're callin' me?"

"I ain't callin' you nothin'. I'm givin' you some free advice, that'sall. Well, Mary-'Gusta, I cal'late, if you've had supper enough, you andme and Zoeth will go into the settin'-room, where we can all talk and Ican smoke. I can always talk better under a full head of steam. Come on, Zoeth, Isaiah wants to be clearin' the table. "

But Mr. Chase's thoughts were not concerned with table clearing justthen. He stepped between Captain Shadrach and the door leading to thesitting-room. 

"Cap'n Shad Gould, " he sputtered, "you--you said somethin' about a fool. Who's a fool? That's what I want to know--who's a fool?"

The Captain grunted. 

"Give it up, " he observed. "I never was any hand at riddles. Come, come, Isaiah! Get out of the channel and let us through. "

"You hold on, Cap'n Shad! You answer me afore you leave this room. Who'sa fool? I want to know who's a fool. "

Captain Shad grinned. 

"Well, go up to the post-office and ask some of the gang there, " hesuggested. "Tell 'em you'll give 'em three guesses. There, there!" headded, good-naturedly, pushing the irate Mr. Chase out of the "channel. ""Don't block the fairway any longer. It's all right, Isaiah. You andme have been shipmates too long to fight now. You riled me up a little, that's all. Come on, folks. "

Two hours later, after Mary had answered the last questions even CaptainShad could think of, had received answers to all her own, and hadgone to her room for the night, Mr. Hamilton turned to his partner andobserved mildly:

"Shadrach, what made you so dreadful peppery to Isaiah this evenin'? Ideclare, I thought you was goin' to take his head off. "

The Captain grunted. "I will take it off some time, " he declared, "if hedon't keep the lower end of it shut when he'd ought to. You heard whathe said, didn't you?"

"Yes, I heard. That about the Smith boy's good looks, you mean?"

"Sartin. And about Mary-'Gusta's noticin' how good-lookin' he was. Rubbish!"

"Yes--yes, I know, but Isaiah was only jokin'. "

"Jokin'! Well, he may LOOK like a comic almanac, but he needn't try tojoke like one while that girl of ours is around. Puttin' notions aboutfellers and good looks and keepin' company into her head! You mightexpect such stuff from them fool drummers that come to the store, but anold leather-skinned image like Isaiah Chase ought to have more sense. Wedon't want such notions put in her head, do we?"

Zoeth rubbed his chin. He did not speak and his silence seemed toirritate his partner. 

"Well, do we?" repeated the latter, sharply. 

Zoeth sighed. "No, Shadrach, " he admitted. "I guess likely we don't, but--"

"But what?"

"Well, we've got to realize that those kind of notions come--come sortof natural to young folks Mary-'Gusta's age. "

"Rubbish! I don't believe that girl's got a single one of 'em in hermind. "

"Maybe not, but they'll be there some day. Ah, well, " he added, "wemustn't be selfish, you and me, Shadrach. It'll be dreadful hard to giveher up to somebody else, but if that somebody is a good man, kind andstraight and honest, why, I for one will try not to complain. But, Oh, Shadrach! Suppose he should turn out to be the other thing. Suppose SHEmakes the mistake that I--"

His friend interrupted. 

"Shh! shh!" he broke in, quickly. "Don't talk so, Zoeth. Come on tobed, " he added, rising from his chair. "This very evenin' I was callin'Isaiah names for talkin' about 'fellers' and such, and here you and Ihave been sittin' talkin' nothin' else. If you hear me say 'fool' in mysleep tonight just understand I'm talkin' to myself, that's all. Come onaloft, Zoeth, and turn in. "

The following morning Mary astonished her uncles by announcing thatas soon as she had helped Isaiah with the breakfast dishes and the bedmaking she was going up to the store. 

"What for?" demanded Captain Shad. "Course we'll be mighty glad to haveyour company, but Zoeth and me presumed likely you'd be for goin' roundcallin' on some of the other girls today. "

"Well, I'm not. If they want to see me they can call on me here. I'mgoing up to the store with you and Uncle Zoeth. I want to help sellthose Christmas goods of ours. "

The partners looked at each other. Even Zoeth was moved to protest. 

"Now, Mary-'Gusta, " he said, "it ain't likely that your Uncle Shadrachand I are goin' to let you sell goods in that store. We won't hear ofit, will we, Shadrach?"

"Not by a thunderin' sight!" declared Shadrach, vehemently. "The idea!"

"Why not? I've sold a good many there. "

"I don't care if you have. You shan't sell any more. 'Twas all rightwhen you was just a--a girl, a South Harnisser like the rest of us, butnow that you're a Boston young lady, up to a fin--er--what-d'ye-call-it--er--endin' school--"

"Finishin' school, Shadrach, " corrected Mr. Hamilton. 

"Well, whatever 'tis; I know 'twould be the end of ME if I had to liveup to the style of it. 'Anyhow, now that you're there, Mary-'Gusta, ayoung lady, same as I said, we ain't--"

But Mary interrupted. "Hush, Uncle Shad, " she commanded. "Hush, thisminute! You're talking nonsense, I AM a South Harniss girl and I'm NOTa Boston young lady. My chief reasons for being so very happy at thethought of coming home here for my Christmas vacation were, first, thatI should see you and Uncle Zoeth and Isaiah and the house and the horseand the cat and the hens, and, next, that I could help you with theChristmas trade at the store. I know perfectly well you need me. I'mcertain you have been absolutely lost without me. Now, really and truly, haven't you?"

"Not a mite, " declared the Captain, stoutly, spoiling the effect of thedenial, however, by adding, although his partner had not spoken: "Shutup, Zoeth! We ain't, neither. "

Mary laughed. "Uncle Shad, " she said, "I don't believe you. At any rate, I'm going up there this minute to see for myself. Come along!"

She made no comment on what she saw at the store, but for the remainderof the forenoon she was very busy. In spite of the partners' protests, in fact paying no more attention to those perturbed men of business thanif they were flies to be brushed aside when bothersome, she went ahead, arranging, rearranging, dusting, writing price tickets, letteringplacards, doing all sorts of things, and waiting on customers in theintervals. At noon, when she and her Uncle Zoeth left for home anddinner, she announced herself in a measure satisfied. "Of course thereis a great deal to do yet, " she said, "but the stock looks a little moreas if it were meant to sell and less as if it were heaped up ready to becarted off and buried. "

That afternoon the store of Hamilton and Company was visited by a goodlynumber of South Harniss residents. That evening there were more. Thenews that Mary-'Gusta Lathrop was at home and was "tendin' store" forher uncles spread and was much discussed. The majority of those who camedid so not because they contemplated purchasing extensively, but becausethey wished to see what effect the fashionable finishing school had hadupon the girl. The general opinion seemed to be that it "hadn't changedher a mite. " This result, however, was considered a desirable one by themajority, but was by some criticized. Among the critics was Mrs. RebeccaMullet, whose daughter Irene also was away at school undergoing thefinishing process. 

"Well!" declared Mrs. Mullet, with decision, as she and her husbandemerged from the store together. "Well! If THAT'S a sample of whatthe school she goes to does for them that spend their money on it, I'mmighty glad we didn't send our Rena there, ain't you, Christopher?"

Mr. Chris Mullet, who had received that very week a bill for hisdaughter's "extras, " uttered a fervent assent. 

"You bet you!" he said. "It costs enough where Rena is, without sendin'her to no more expensive place. "

This was not exactly the reply his wife had expected. 

"Umph!" she grunted, impatiently. "I do wish you could get along fortwo minutes without puttin' on poor mouth. I suppose likely you telleverybody that you can't afford a new overcoat account of Rena's goin'away to school. You'd ought to be prouder of your daughter than you areof an overcoat, I should think. "

Mr. Mullet muttered something to the effect that he was dum sure he wasnot proud of his present overcoat. His wife ignored the complaint. 

"And you'll be proud of Irene when she comes home, " she declared. "Shewon't be like that Mary-'Gusta, standin' up behind the counter andsellin' goods. "

"Why, now, Becky, what's the matter with her doin' that? She always usedto sell goods, and behind that very counter, too. And she certainly canSELL 'em!" with a reminiscent chuckle. 

Mrs. Mullet glared at him. "Yes, " she drawled, with sarcasm, "so shecan--to some folks. Look at you, with all that Christmas junk under yourarm! You didn't need to buy that stuff any more'n you needed to fly. What did you buy it for? Tell me that. "

Chris shook his head. "Blessed if I know, " he admitted. "I hadn't anyidea of buyin' it, but she and me got to talkin', and she kept showin'the things to me, and I kept lookin' at 'em and--"

"Yes, and kept lookin' at her, too! Don't talk to ME! There's no foollike an old fool--and an old man fool is the worst of all. "

Her husband, usually meek and long-suffering under wifely discipline, evinced unwonted spirit. 

"Well, I tell you this, Becky, " he said. "Fur's I can see, Mary-'Gusta'sall right. She's as pretty as a picture, to begin with; she's got moneyof her own to spend; and she's been away among folks that have got a lotmore. All them things together are enough to spoil 'most any girl, butthey haven't spoiled her. She's come home here not a mite stuck-up, notflirty nor silly nor top-lofty, but just as sensible and capable andcommon-folksy as ever she was, and that's sayin' somethin'. If our Renaturns out to be the girl Mary-'Gusta Lathrop is I WILL be proud of her, and don't you forget it!"

Which terminated conversation in the Mullet family for that evening. 

But if the few, like Mrs. Mullet, were inclined to criticize, the many, like her husband, united in declaring Mary to be "all right. " And herrearranging and displaying of the Christmas goods helped her and heruncles to dispose of them. In fact, for the three days before Christmasit became necessary to call in the services of Annabel as assistantsaleslady. The store was crowded, particularly in the evenings, andZoeth and Captain Shad experienced for the first time in months thesensation of being the heads of a prosperous business. 

"Looks good to see so many young folks in here, don't it, Zoeth?"observed the Captain. "And not only girls, but fellers, too. Don't knowwhen I've seen so many young fellers in here. Who's that young squirtMary-'Gusta's waitin' on now? The one with the whittled-in back to hisovercoat. Say, Solomon in all his glory wasn't arrayed like one of him!Must be some city feller, eh? Nobody I know. "

Zoeth looked at his niece and her customer. 

"Humph!" he said. "Guess you ain't rubbed your glasses lately, Shadrach. That's Dan Higgins. "

Mr. Higgins it was, home for a few days' relaxation from the fatiguesof coffin selling, and garbed as usual in city clothes the splendor ofwhich, as Captain Shad said afterwards, "would have given a blind maneyestrain. " Daniel's arms were filled with purchases and he and Marywere standing beside the table where the toys and games were displayed. Mary was gazing at the toys; Mr. Higgins was--not. 

The partners regarded the pair for a moment. Shadrach frowned. 

"Humph!" he grunted. 

"Daniel's tryin' to find somethin' his little brother'll like, "explained Zoeth. 

"Yes, " observed the Captain, dryly. "Well, he looks as if he'd foundsomethin' HE liked pretty well. Here, Mary-'Gusta, I'll finish waitin'on Dan. You just see what Mrs. Nickerson wants, will you, please?"

Christmas Eve ended the rush of business for Hamilton and Company. Thefollowing week, the last of Mary's vacation, was certain to be dullenough. "Nothin' to do but change presents for folks, " prophesiedCaptain Shad. "Give them somethin' they want and take back somethin'we don't want. That kind of trade is like shovelin' fog up hill, moreexercise than profit. "

Christmas was a happy day at the white house by the shore, a day ofsurprises. To begin with, there were the presents which were beside theplates at breakfast. Mary had brought gifts for all, Captain Shadrach, Zoeth, and Isaiah. There was nothing expensive, of course, but each hadbeen chosen to fit the taste and liking of the recipient and there wasno doubt that each choice was a success. Isaiah proudly displayed ajacknife which was a small toolchest, having four blades, a corkscrew, a screwdriver, a chisel, a button-hook and goodness knows what elsebesides. 

"Look at that!" crowed Isaiah, exhibiting the knife, bristling like aporcupine, on his open palm. "Look at it! By time, there ain't nothin' Ican't do with that knife! Every time I look at it I find somethin'new. Now, I wonder what that is, " pointing to a particularly large andferocious-looking implement which projected from the steel tangle. "Ical'late I've sized up about everything else, but I can't seem to makeout what that's for. What do you cal'late 'tis, Cap'n Shad?"

Shadrach looked. 

"Why, that's simple, " he said, gravely. "That's a crust crowbar. "

"A what?"

"A crust crowbar. For openin' one of them cast-iron pies same as youmade for us last week. You drill a hole in the crust nigh the edge ofthe plate and then put that thing in and pry the upper deck loose. Goodidea, Isaiah! I--"

"Aw, go to grass!" interrupted the indignant Mr. Chase. "I notice youalways eat enough of my pies, decks--yes, and hull and riggin', too. "

Then there was THE great surprise, that which the partners had preparedfor their idolized niece. Mary found beside her plate a small, oblongpackage, wrapped in tissue paper and labeled, "To Mary-'Gusta, fromUncle Shadrach and Uncle Zoeth, with a Merry Christmas. " Inside thepaper was a pasteboard box, inside that a leather case, and inside THATa handsome gold watch and chain. Then there was much excited exclaimingand delighted thanks on Mary's part, and explanations and broad grins onthat of the givers. 

"But you shouldn't have done it! Of course you shouldn't!" protestedMary. "It's perfectly lovely and I wanted a watch more than anything;but I KNOW this must have cost a great deal. "

"Never, neither, " protested the Captain. "We got it wholesale. EdgarEmery's nephew is in the business up to Providence and he picked it outfor us. Didn't begin to cost what we cal'lated 'twould, did it, Zoeth?When you buy things wholesale that way you can 'most always cal'late toget 'em lower than you cal'late to. "

Mary smiled at this somewhat involved statement, but she shook her head. 

"I'm sure it cost a great deal more than you should have spent, " shesaid. 

"But you like it, don't you?" queried Zoeth, hopefully. 

"Like it! Oh, Uncle Zoeth, don't you KNOW I like it! Who could helpliking such a beautiful thing?"

"How's it show up alongside the watches the other girls have up to thatBoston school?" asked Shadrach, with ill-concealed anxiety. "We wouldn'twant our girl's watch to be any cheaper'n theirs, you know. "

The answer was enthusiastic enough to satisfy even the Captain and Mr. Hamilton. 

"I'm sure there isn't another girl in the school whose watch means toher what this will mean to me, " declared Mary. "I shall keep it and loveit all my life. "

The partners heaved a sigh of relief. Whether or not the watch was fineenough for their Mary-'Gusta had been a source of worriment and muchdiscussion. And then Isaiah, with his customary knack of saying thewrong thing, tossed a brickbat into the puddle of general satisfaction. 

"That's so, " he said; "that's so, Mary-'Gusta. You can keep it allyour life, and when you get to be an old woman and married and havegrandchildren then you can give it to them. "

Captain Shadrach, who had taken up his napkin preparatory to tuckingit under his chin, turned in his chair and glared at the unconscioussteward. 

"Well, by the jumpin' fire!" he exclaimed, with conviction. "The felleris sartinly possessed. He's lovesick, that's what's the matter with him. All he can talk about is somebody's gettin' married. Are YOU cal'latin'to get married, Isaiah?"

"Me? What kind of fool talk is that?"

"Who's the lucky woman?"

"There ain't no lucky woman. Don't talk so ridic'lous! All I said wasthat when Mary-'Gusta was old and married and had--"

"There you go again! Married and children! Say, did it ever run acrostyour mind that you was a little mite previous?"

"I never said children. What I said was when she was old and hadgrandchildren. "

"Grandchildren! Well, that's a dum sight MORE previous. Let's havebreakfast, all hands, for the land sakes! Isaiah'll have us cruisin'along with the third and fourth generation in a few minutes. I'Msatisfied with this one!"

That evening, at bedtime, as the partners separated in the upper hall togo to their respective rooms, Zoeth said:

"Shadrach, this has been a mighty nice Christmas for us all, ain't it?"

Captain Shad nodded emphatically. "You bet!" he declared. "Don't seem tome I ever remember a nicer one. "

"Nor I, neither. I--I wonder--"

"Well, heave ahead. What are you waitin' for? What do you wonder?"

"I was just wonderin' if 'twas right for us to be so happy. "

"Right?"

"Yes. Have we been--well, good enough this past year to deservehappiness like this?"

Shadrach grinned. 

"I ain't puttin' in any testimony on my own hook, " he said, dryly, "butI don't seem to remember your bein' desperately wicked, Zoeth. Courseyou MAY have got drunk and disorderly that time when Mary-'Gusta and Ileft you and went to Boston, but I kind of doubt it. "

"Hush, hush, Shadrach! Don't joke about serious things. What I mean ishave you and I walked the Lord's way as straight as we'd ought to? We'vetried--that is, seems 's if we had--but I don't know. Anyhow, all thisafternoon I've had a funny feelin' that you and me and Mary-'Gustawas--well was as if the tide had been comin' in for us all these yearssince she's been livin' with us, and as if now 'twould begin to go outagain. "

The Captain laughed. "And that's what you call a FUNNY feelin'!" heexclaimed. "Zoeth, I've got a funny feelin', too, but I know what's thereason for it--the reason is turkey and plum puddin' and mince pie andthe land knows what. When a couple of old hulks like you and me h'istin a cargo of that kind it's no wonder we have feelin's. Good night, shipmate. "

CHAPTER XIII

The day after New Year's Mary went back to Boston and to school. Thelong winter term--the term which Madeline Talbott, whose father was ajudge, called "the extreme penalty"--began. Boston's famous east winds, so welcome in summer and so raw and penetrating in winter, brought theirusual allowance of snow and sleet, and the walks from Pinckney Streetto the school and back were not always pleasant. Mrs. Wyeth had a slightattack of tonsillitis and Miss Pease a bronchial cold, but they unitedin declaring these afflictions due entirely to their own imprudenceand not in the least to the climate, which, being like themselves, thoroughly Bostonian, was expected to maintain a proper degree of chill. 

Mary, fortunately, escaped colds and illness. The walks in all sorts ofweather did her good and her rosy cheeks and clear eyes were competentwitnesses to her state of health. She was getting on well with herstudies, and the Misses Cabot, not too easy to please, were apparentlypleased with her. At home--for she had come to consider Mrs. Wyeth'scomfortable house a home, although not of course to be compared with thereal home at South Harniss--at Mrs. Wyeth's she was more of a favoritethan ever, not only with the mistress of the house, but with Miss Pease, who was considered eccentric and whose liking was reported hard to win. The two ladies had many talks concerning the girl. 

"She is remarkable, " declared Miss Pease on one occasion. "Consideringher lack of early advantages, I consider her ease of manner andself-possession remarkable. She is a prodigy. "

Mrs. Wyeth sniffed. She enjoyed hearing Mary praised, but she objectedto her friend's choice of words. 

"For mercy sake, Letitia, " she said, "don't call her that. The word'prodigy' always reminds me of the Crummles infant, the one with thegreen parasol and the white--er--lingerie, in 'Nicholas Nickleby. '"

Miss Pease smiled with the superiority of the corrected who is about tocorrect. 

"I don't see why that should bring the individual you mention to mind, "she said. "If I remember correctly--and I was brought up on Dickens--shewas a 'phenomenon, ' not a prodigy. However, it makes no materialdifference what you and I call Mary Lathrop, the fact remains that sheis an exceptionally well-behaved, good-mannered, polite--"

"Sweet, healthy girl, " interrupted Mrs. Wyeth, finishing the sentence. "I know that as well as you do, Letitia Pease. And you know I knowit. Now, what have you in your mind concerning Mary? I know there issomething, because you have been hinting at it for more than a week. What is it?"

Miss Pease looked wise. 

"Oh, I have a plan, " she said. "I can't tell even you, Emily, just whatit is as yet. You see, it isn't really a plan, but only an idea so far. She doesn't know it herself, of course. "

"Hum! Is it a pleasant plan--or idea, whichever you call it? That is, will she think it pleasant when she learns what it is?"

"I certainly hope so. "

"Look here, Letitia, " with sudden suspicion, "you aren't planning someridiculous sentimental nonsense for that child, are you? You're nottrying to make a match for her, I hope?"

"Match? What are you talking about? If you mean am I trying to get hermarried to some MAN, " with a scornful emphasis on the word, "I mostcertainly am not. 

"Humph! Well, if she ever is married, I presume it will be to a man, oran imitation of one. All right, Letitia. I am glad your great idea isn'tthat, whatever it is. "

"It is not. You know my opinion of marriage, Emily Wyeth. And, so faras matchmaking is concerned, I should say you were a more likely subjectfor suspicion. That young relative of yours, Sam Keith, appears to becoming here a great deal of late. He MAY come solely to see you, but Idoubt it. "

Mrs. Wyeth smiled grimly. 

"Samuel has been rather prevalent recently, " she admitted, "but don'tlet that trouble you, Letitia. I have had my eye on the young man. Samuel is as susceptible to pretty girls as children are to the measles. And his attacks remind me of the measles as much as anything, suddenoutbreak, high fever and delirium, then a general cooling off and arapid recovery. This seizure isn't alarming and there is absolutely nodanger of contagion. Mary doesn't take him seriously at all. "

"And how about that other young man?--Smith, I think his name is. He hascalled here twice since Christmas. "

Mrs. Wyeth seemed to be losing patience. 

"Well, what of it?" she demanded. 

"Why, nothing that I know of, except, perhaps--"

"There is no perhaps at all. The Smith boy appears to be a very niceyoung fellow, and remarkably sensible for a young person in thishoity-toity age. From what I can learn, his people, although theydo live out West--down in a mine or up on a branch or a ranchor something--are respectable. Why shouldn't he call to see Maryoccasionally, and why shouldn't she see him? Goodness gracious! Whatsort of a world would this be if young people didn't see each other?Don't tell me that you never had any young male acquaintances when youwere a girl, Letitia, because I shan't believe you. "

Miss Pease straightened in her chair. 

"It is not likely that I shall make any such preposterous statement, "she snapped. 

So the "young male acquaintance" called occasionally--not toooften--Mrs. Wyeth saw to that; probably not so often as he wouldhave liked; but he did call and the acquaintanceship developed intofriendship. That it might develop into something more than friendshipno one, except possibly the sentimental Miss Pease, seemed to suspect. Certainly Mary did not, and at this time it is doubtful if Crawford did, either. He liked Mary Lathrop. She was a remarkably pretty girl but, unlike other pretty girls he had known--and as good-looking collegefootball stars are privileged beyond the common herd, he had known atleast several--she did not flirt with him, nor look admiringly up intohis eyes, nor pronounce his jokes "killingly funny, " nor flatter him inany way. If the jokes WERE funny she laughed a healthy, genuine laugh, but if, as sometimes happened, they were rather feeble, she was quitelikely to tell him so. She did not always agree with his views, havingviews of her own on most subjects, and if he asked her opinion theanswer he received was always honest, if not precisely what he expectedor hoped. 

"By George! You're frank, at any rate, " he observed, rather ruefully, after asking her opinion as to a point of conduct and receiving itforthwith. 

"Didn't you want me to be?" asked Mary. "You asked me what I thought youshould have done and I told you. "

"Yes, you did. You certainly told me. "

"Well, didn't you want me to tell you?"

"I don't know that I wanted you to tell me just that. "

"But you asked me what I thought, and that is exactly what I think. Don't YOU think it is what you should have done?"

Crawford hesitated; then he laughed. "Why yes, confound it, I do, " headmitted. "But I hoped you would tell me that what I did do was right. "

"Whether I thought so or not?"

"Why--well--er--yes. Honestly now, didn't you know I wanted you to saythe other thing?"

It was Mary's turn to hesitate; then she, too, laughed. 

"Why, yes, I suppose--" she began; and finished with, "Yes, I did. "

"Then why didn't you say it? Most girls would. "

"Perhaps that is why. I judge that most girls of your acquaintance sayjust about what you want them to. Don't you think it is good for you tobe told the truth occasionally?"

It was good for him, of course, and, incidentally, it had thefascination of novelty. Here was a girl full of fun, ready to take ajoke as well as give one, neither flattering nor expecting flattery, acountry girl who had kept store, yet speaking of that phase of her lifequite as freely as she did of the fashionable Misses Cabot's school, not at all ashamed to say she could not afford this or that, simple andunaffected but self-respecting and proud; a girl who was at all timesherself and retained her poise and common sense even in the presence ofhandsome young demigod who had made two touchdowns against Yale. 

It was extremely good for Crawford Smith to know such a girl. She helpedhim to keep his feet on the ground and his head from swelling. Not thatthere was much danger of the latter happening, for the head was apretty good one, but Mary Lathrop's common sense was a stimulating--andfascinating--reenforcement to his own. As he had said on the Sundayafternoon of their first meeting in Boston, it was a relief to havesomeone to talk to who understood and appreciated a fellow's seriousthoughts as well as the frivolous ones. His approaching graduation fromHarvard and the work which he would begin at the Medical School in thefall were very much in his mind just now. He told Mary his plans and sheand he discussed them. She had plans of her own, principally concerningwhat she meant to do to make life easier for her uncles when her schooldays were over, and these also were discussed. 

"But, " he said, "that's really nonsense, after all, isn't it?"

"What?"

"Why, the idea of your keeping store again. You'll never do that. "

"Indeed I shall! Why not?"

"Why, because--"

"Because what?"

"Because--well, because I don't think you will, that's all. Girls likeyou don't have to keep a country store, you know--at least, not forlong. "

The remark was intended to please; it might have pleased some girls, but it did not please this one. Mary's dignity was offended. Anythingapproaching a slur upon her beloved uncles, or their place of business, or South Harniss, or the Cape Cod people, she resented with all hermight. Her eyes snapped. 

"I do not HAVE to keep store at any time, " she said crisply, "in thecountry or elsewhere. I do it because I wish to and I shall continue todo it as long as I choose. If my friends do not understand that fact andappreciate my reasons, they are not my friends, that is all. "

Crawford threw up both hands. "Whew!" he exclaimed. "Don't shoot; I'llcome down! Great Scott! If you take a fellow's head off like that whenhe pays you a compliment what would you do if he dared to criticize?"

"Was that remark of yours intended as a compliment?"

"Not exactly; more as a statement of fact. I meant--I meant--Oh, comenow, Mary! You know perfectly well what I meant. Own up. "

Mary tried hard to be solemn and severe, but the twinkle in his eye wasinfectious and in spite of her effort her lips twitched. 

"Own up, now, " persisted Crawford. "You know what I meant. Now, don'tyou?"

"Well--well, I suppose I do. But I think the remark was a very sillyone. That is the way Sam Keith talks. "

"Eh? Oh, does he!"

"Yes. Or he would if I would let him. And he does it much better thanyou do. "

"Well, I like that!"

"I don't. That is why I don't want you to do it. I expect you to bemore sensible. And, besides, I won't have you or anyone making fun of myuncles' store. "

"Making fun of it! I should say not! I have a vivid and most respectfulmemory of it, as you ought to know. By the way, you told me your uncleshad sent you their photographs. May I see them?"

Mary brought the photographs from her room. They had been taken by thephotographer at Ostable in compliance with what amounted to an orderon her part, and the results showed two elderly martyrs dressed inrespectable but uncomfortable Sunday clothes and apparently awaitingexecution. On the back of one mournful exhibit was written, "MaryAugusta from Uncle Shadrach, " and on the other, "Uncle Zoeth to MaryAugusta, with much love. "

"Now, don't laugh, " commanded Mary, as she handed the photographs toCrawford. "I know they are funny, but if you laugh I'll never forgiveyou. The poor dears had them taken expressly to please me, and I amperfectly sure either would have preferred having a tooth out. They AREthe best men in the world and I am more certain of it every day. "

Crawford did not laugh at the photographs. He was a young gentleman ofconsiderable discretion and he did not smile, not even at Captain Shad'shands, the left with fingers separated and clutching a knee as if tokeep it from shaking, the right laid woodenly upon a gorgeously boundparlor-table copy of "Lucille. " Instead of laughing he praised theoriginals of the pictures, talked reminiscently of his own visitin South Harniss, and finally produced from his pocketbook a smallphotographic print, which he laid upon the table beside the others. 

"I brought that to show you, " he said. "You were asking about my father, you know, and I told you I hadn't a respectable photograph of him. Thatwas true; I haven't. Dad has another eccentricity besides his dislike ofthe East and Eastern ways of living; he has a perfect horror of havinghis photograph taken. Don't ask me why, because I can't tell you. Itisn't because he is ugly; he's a mighty good-looking man for his age, ifI do say it. But he has a prejudice against photographs of himselfand won't even permit me to take a snapshot if he can prevent it. Sayspeople who are always having their pictures taken are vain, conceitedidiots, and so on. However, I catch him unawares occasionally, and thisis a snap I took last summer. He and I were on a fishing trip up in themountains. We're great pals, Dad and I--more than most fathers and sons, I imagine. "

Mary took the photograph and studied it with interest. Mr. Smith, senior, was a big man, broad-shouldered and heavy, with a full graybeard and mustache. He wore a broad-brimmed hat, which shaded hisforehead somewhat, but his eyes and the shape of his nose were like hisson's. 

Mary looked at the photograph and Crawford looked at her. 

"Well, what do you think of him?" asked the young man after an interval. 

"Think?" repeated Mary absently, still staring at the photograph. "Why, I--I don't know what you mean. "

"I mean what is your opinion of my respected dad? You must have oneby this time. You generally have one on most subjects and you've beenlooking at that picture for at least five minutes. "

"Have I? I beg your pardon; I didn't realize. The picture interested me. I have never seen your father, have I? No, of course I haven't. But italmost seems as if I had. Perhaps I have seen someone who looks likehim. "

"Shouldn't wonder. Myself, for instance. "

"Of course. That was stupid of me, wasn't it? He looks like aninteresting man, one who has had experiences. "

"He has. Dad doesn't talk about himself much, even to me, but he hadsome hard rubs before he reached the smooth places. Had to fight hisway, I guess. "

"He looks as if he had. But he got his way in the end, I should imagine. He doesn't look like one who gives up easily. "

"He isn't. Pretty stubborn sometimes, Dad is, but a brick to me, justthe same. "

"Was your mother an Eastern woman?"

"No. She was a Westerner, from California. Dad was married twice. Hisfirst wife came from New England somewhere, I believe. I didn't knowthere had been another wife until I was nearly fifteen years old, andthen I found it out entirely by accident. She was buried in anothertown, you see. I saw her name first on the gravestone and it made animpression on me because it was so odd and old-fashioned--'Patience, wife of Edwin Smith. ' I only mention this to show you how little Dadtalks about himself, but it was odd I should find it out that way, wasn't it? But there! I don't suppose you're interested in the Smithgenealogy. I apologize. I never think of discussing my family affairswith anyone but you, not even Sam. But you--well, somehow I seem to tellyou everything. I wonder why?"

"Perhaps because I ask too many questions. "

"No, it isn't that. It is because you act as if you really cared to haveme talk about my own affairs. I never met a girl before that did. Now, Iwant to ask you about that club business. There's going to be the deuceand all to pay in that if I'm not careful. Have you thought it over?What would you do if you were I?"

The matter in question was a somewhat delicate and complicated one, dealing with the admission or rejection of a certain fellow to one ofthe Harvard societies. There was a strong influence working to get himin and, on the other hand, there were some very good objections tohis admission. Crawford, president of the club and one of its mostinfluential members, was undecided what to do. He had explained thecase to Mary upon the occasion of his most recent visit to thePinckney Street house, and had asked her advice. She had taken timefor consideration, of course--she was the old Mary-'Gusta still inthat--and now the advice was ready. 

"It seems to me, " she said, "that I should try to settle it like this. "

She explained her plan. Crawford listened, at first dubiously and thenwith steadily growing enthusiasm. 

"By George!" he exclaimed, when she had finished. "That would do it, Ihonestly believe. How in the world did you ever think of that scheme?Say, you really are a wonder at managing. You could manage a bigbusiness and make it go, I'm sure. How do you do it? Where do you getyour ideas?"

Mary laughed. His praise pleased her. 

"I don't know, " she answered. "I just think them out, I guess. I dolike to manage things for people. Sometimes I do it more than I should, perhaps. Poor Isaiah Chase, at home in South Harniss, says I boss him todeath. And my uncles say I manage them, too--but they seem to like it, "she added. 

"I don't wonder they do. I like it, myself. Will you help manage myaffairs between now and Commencement? There'll be a whole lot to manage, between the club and the dance and all the rest of it. And then when yougo to Commencement you can see for yourself how they work out. "

"Go to Commencement? Am I going to Commencement?"

"Of course you are! You're going with me, I hope. I thought that wasunderstood. It's a long way off yet, but for goodness' sake don't sayyou won't come. I've been counting on it. "

Mary's pleasure showed in her face. All she said, however, was:

"Thank you very much. I shall be very glad to come. "

But Commencement was, as Crawford said, still a good way off and in themeantime there were weeks of study. The weeks passed, some of them, andthen came the Easter vacation. Mary spent the vacation in South Harniss, of course, and as there was no Christmas rush to make her feel thatshe was needed at the store, she rested and drove and visited and had athoroughly happy and profitable holiday. The happiness and profit wereshared by her uncles, it is unnecessary to state. When she questionedthem concerning business and the outlook for the coming summer, theyseemed optimistic and cheerful. 

"But Isaiah says there are two new stores to be opened in the villagethis spring, " said Mary. "Don't you think they may hurt your trade alittle?"

Captain Shadrach dismissed the idea and his prospective competitors witha condescending wave of the hand. "Not a mite, " he declared scornfully. "Not a mite, Mary-'Gusta. Hamilton and Company's a pretty able oldcraft. She may not show so much gilt paint and brass work as some of thenew ones just off the ways, but her passengers know she's staunch andthey'll stick by her. Why, Isaiah was sayin' that a feller was tellin'him only yesterday that it didn't make any difference how many newstores was started in this town, he'd never trade anywheres but withHamilton and Company. That shows you, don't it?"

"Who was it said that, Uncle Shad?" asked Mary. 

"Eh? Why, I don't know. Isaiah was tellin' me about it and we wasinterrupted. Who was it, Isaiah?"

"'Twas Rastus Young, " replied Mr. Chase promptly. 

Even the Captain was obliged to laugh, although he declared that Mr. Young's constancy was a proof that the firm's prospects were good. 

"Rats'll always leave a sinkin' ship, " he said, "and if Zoeth and me wasgoin' under Rat Young would be the first to quit. "

Zoeth, when his niece questioned him, expressed confidence that the newcompetitors would not prove dangerous. "The Almighty has looked afterus so far, " he added, "unworthy as we be, and I guess he'll carry us therest of the way. Put your trust in Him, Mary-'Gusta; I hope they teachyou that up to school. "

So Mary, who had been rather troubled at the news of Hamilton andCompany's rivals in the field, dismissed her fears as groundless. Heruncles were old-fashioned and a little behind the times in businessmethods, but no doubt those methods were suited to South Harniss andthere was no cause for worry concerning the firm's future. She madeIsaiah promise to keep her posted as to developments and went back toBoston and her schoolwork. 

CHAPTER XIV

The spring term was an interesting one and there were other interestsas well. Crawford called more frequently, the plans for Commencementrequiring a great deal of discussion. Mary's fondness for managing was, or should have been, gratified, for the talent was in constant demand. Sam Keith, who, after meeting Mary at his cousin's house, had at firstdeveloped an amazing fondness for that relative's society, now came lessoften. He was in the second stage of the pretty-girl disease mentionedby his aunt; the fever and delirium had passed, and he was now coolingoff. It cannot be said that the fever had been in the least encouraged. Mary was pleasant and agreeable when he called, but she would nottreat him as a confidant or an intimate; she did not accept any of hisinvitations to dances or the theater, and she would not flirt even theleast little bit. The last was the most unsatisfactory drawback, becausethe susceptible Samuel was fond of flirtations and usually managed tokeep at least three going at the same time. Therefore, the cooling-offprocess was, in this case, a bit more rapid than usual. Sam's calls anddinners at his cousin Emily's residence had decreased from two or threetimes a week to an uncertain once a fortnight. Mary, of course, noticedthis, but she felt no regret. Crawford, Sam's roommate, must havenoticed it also, but if he felt regret he managed to conceal the feelingremarkably well. 

Early in May Captain Shadrach came up to the city to buy summer goodsfor the store. He positively refused to make his headquarters at Mrs. Wyeth's, although that lady sent an urgent invitation to him to do so. And, even when Mary added her own plea to that of her landlady, theCaptain still refused. 

Don't ask me, Mary-'Gusta [he wrote]. For the dear land sakes don't askme to come to that place and stay. I'd do 'most anything for you, and Iwill do that if you are dead sot on it, but I do hope you ain't. I willcome up there and see you of course and I'll even stay to supper if Iget asked, but DON'T ask me to drop anchor and stay there night and day. I couldn't stand it. My backbone's sprung backwards now from settin' upso straight last time I was there. 

So Mary had pity upon him and he took a room at the Quincy House where, as he said, he didn't have to keep his nose dead on the course everyminute, but could "lay to and be comf'table" if he wanted to. He wasinvited to supper at the Wyeth house, however, and while there Mrs. Wyeth found an opportunity to take him aside and talk with him on asubject which he found interesting and a trifle disquieting. 

"Now mind, " said the lady, "I am by no means convinced that the affairis anything but a mere boy and girl friendship, or that it is everlikely to be more than that. But I did think I ought to tell you aboutit and that you should meet the young man. You have met him, you say?"

"Yes, ma'am, " said Shadrach, "I've met him. 'Twan't much more'n that--hejust came into our store down home, that's all. But I did meet him and Imust say I thought he was a real likely young feller. "

"I am glad you thought so. So do I. Has Mary written you of his callshere?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am, she's written. She ain't the kind of girl to keepanything back from us; at least, if she is, she's changed a heap sinceshe came away to school. She's told us about his comin' here and aboutyou and him and her goin' to that--what-d'ye-call-it--hookey game. Shewrote all about that 'way last February. "

"Yes, we did go to the hockey game. Samuel, my cousin John Keith's boy, played in it. Now, Captain Gould, I have a suggestion to make. It hasbeen some years since you met Crawford Smith and I think, everythingconsidered, you should meet him again and decide for yourself whetheror not you still consider him a proper young person to call upon yourniece. Suppose you dine with us again tomorrow evening and I inviteyoung Smith also. Then--"

But the Captain interrupted. He had a plan of his own for the followingevening and another meal at Mrs. Wyeth's was not a part of it. 

"Er--er--excuse me, ma'am, " he cut in hastily, "but I had a--a kind ofnotion that Mary-'Gusta and me might get our supper at a--a eatin'-houseor somewhere tomorrow night and then maybe we'd take in--I mean go toa show--a theater, I should say. I didn't know but I'd ask this youngSmith feller to go along. And--and--" remembering his politeness, "ofcourse we'd be real glad if you'd come, too, " he added. 

But Mrs. Wyeth, although she thanked him and expressed herself asheartily in favor of the supper and theater party, refused to become amember of it. The Captain bore the shock of the refusal with, to say theleast, manful resignation. He had a huge respect for Mrs. Wyeth, andhe liked her because his beloved Mary-'Gusta liked her so well, but hisliking was seasoned with awe and her no in this case was a great relief. 

So the following evening at six Mary and her uncle met Crawford at theQuincy House and the three dined together, after which they saw theperformance of "The Music Master" at the Tremont Theater. Crawford foundthe dinner quite as entertaining as the play. Captain Shadrach was inhigh good humor and his remarks during the meal were characteristic. He persisted in addressing the dignified waiter as "Steward" and inreferring to the hotel kitchen as the "galley. " He consulted his youngguests before ordering and accepted their selections gracefully if notalways silently. 

"All right, Mary-'Gusta, " he observed. "All right, just as you say. You're the skipper of this craft tonight, and me and Crawford here arejust passengers. If you say we've got to eat--what is it?--consummersoup--why, I suppose likely we have. I'll take my chances if Crawfordwill. Course, if I was alone here, I'd probably stick to oyster stew androast beef. I know what they are. And it's some comfort to be sure ofwhat you're gettin', as the sick feller said when the doctor told him hehad the smallpox instead of the measles. You don't mind my callin' you'Crawford, ' do you?" he added, turning to that young gentleman. "I'm oldenough to be your father, for one thing, and for another a handle's allright on a jug or a sasspan, but don't seem as if 'twas necessary totake hold of a friend's name by. And I hope we're goin' to be friends, we three. "

Crawford said he hoped so, too, and he said it with emphasis. 

"Good!" exclaimed the Captain with enthusiasm. "And we'll cementthe friendship--the book fellers are always tellin' about cementin'friendships--with this supper of ours, eh? If we only had some ofIsaiah's last batch of mincemeat we could sartinly do it with that; itwas the nighest thing to cement ever I saw put on a table. I asked himif he filled his pies with a trowel and you ought to have heard himsputter. You remember Isaiah, don't you, Crawford? Tall, spindlin'critter, sails cook for Zoeth and me at the house down home. He ain'tpretty, but his heart's in the right place. That's kind of strange, too, " he added with a chuckle, "when you consider how nigh hisshoulder-blades are to the top of his legs. "

Between his stories and jokes he found time to ask his male guest afew questions and these questions, although by no means offensivelypersonal, were to the point. He inquired concerning the young man's homelife, about his ambitions and plans for the future, about his friendsand intimates at college. Crawford, without being in the least awarethat he was being catechized, told a good deal, and Captain Shadrach'sappraising regard, which had learned to judge men afloat and ashore, read more than was told. The appraisal was apparently satisfactory for, after the young man had gone and the Captain and Mary were saying goodnight in the Wyeth parlor, Shadrach said:

"A nice boy, I should say. Yes, sir, a real nice young feller, as youngfellers go. I like him fust-rate. "

"I'm glad, Uncle Shad, " said Mary. "I like him, too. "

Shadrach regarded her with a little of the questioning scrutiny he haddevoted to Crawford during dinner. 

"You do, eh?" he mused. "How much?"

"How much?" repeated Mary, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean how much do you like him? More'n you do your Uncle Zoeth and me, for instance?"

She looked up into his face. What she saw there brought the color to herown. He might have said more, but she put her finger-tips upon his lips. 

"Nonsense!" she said hotly. "What wicked, silly nonsense, Uncle Shad!Don't you ever, ever say such a thing to me again. You KNOW better. "

Shadrach smiled and shook his head. 

"All right, Mary-'Gusta, " he said; "I won't say it again--not till yousay it to me fust, at any rate. There, there, dearie! Don't blow meclean out of the water. I was only jokin', the same as Isaiah was tryin'to that night when you came home for your Christmas vacation. "

"I don't like that kind of joking. I think it's silly. "

"I guess maybe 'tis--for a spell, anyhow. We'll heave the jokesoverboard. Yes, I like that Crawford Smith fust-rate. But the funniestthing about him is the way he reminds me of somebody else. Who thatsomebody is I can't make out nor remember. Maybe I'll think sometime orother, but anyhow I like him now for his own sake. I asked him to comedown and see us sometime this summer. Wonder if he will. "

Mary-'Gusta wondered, too, but she would have wondered more had sheknown what that coming summer was to mean to her. The morning after thetheater party Captain Shadrach called to say good-by to Mrs. Wyeth. Thatlady asked some questions and listened with interest and approval to hisreport concerning Crawford Smith. 

"I'm glad you were so favorably impressed with the boy, " she said. "As Itold you, I like him myself. And you approve of his friendship with yourniece?"

The Captain rubbed his chin. "Why, yes, ma'am, " he said. "I approveof that, all right, and I cal'late Zoeth would, too. Fact is, whereMary-'Gusta's concerned 'tain't nothin' BUT friendship, so fur, and Iguess likely 'tain't on his part, either. If it ever should be more, then--well, then, if he turned out to be all that he'd ought to be Ican't see where we old folks have much right to put our oar in, do you, ma'am?"

Perhaps Mrs. Wyeth was tired of the subject; perhaps she objectedto being addressed as one of the old folks; at any rate, she made noanswer, but asked a question instead. 

"Captain Gould, " she said, "what plans have you and Mr. Hamilton madefor Mary this summer?"

"Plans, ma'am? Why, I don't know's we've made any. Of course, we'recountin' on her comin' down to South Harniss when she gets through herschool, and--"

"Just a moment, Captain. I have a friend who is very anxious to have youchange that plan for one of hers. Come in, Letitia. Captain Gould, thisis my friend, Miss Pease. Now, Letitia, tell the Captain your plan--theone you told me last night. "

Miss Pease told of her plan and Captain Shad listened, at first withastonishment, then with a troubled expression and at last with acombination of both. 

"There, " said Miss Pease, in conclusion, "that is my plan. It means agreat deal to me and I hope it may mean something to Mary. "

"It will be a wonderful opportunity for her, " declared Mrs. Wyethemphatically. 

"What do you think of it, Captain Gould?" asked Miss Pease. 

Shadrach drew a long breath. "I--I don't know hardly what to say, ma'am, " he answered. "I can't hardly realize it yet, seems so. Itsartinly would be a wonderful chance for her and it's somethin' me andZoeth could never give her or think of givin'. But--but--"

"Of course, " said Miss Pease, as he hesitated, "if she is needed verymuch at home--if you feel you cannot spare her--"

"'Tain't that, ma'am, " interrupted the Captain quickly. "Land knowsZoeth and me would miss her awful, but we wouldn't let that stand in theway--not of anything like this. But--but--well, to be right down honest, ma'am, I don't know's we'd feel like havin' somebody else do so muchfor her. Course we ain't well off, Zoeth and I ain't, but we ain't rightdown poor, either. We've been used to doin' for ourselves and--"

And then Miss Pease had an inspiration. 

"Oh, dear me!" she broke in hastily. "I do hope you haven't made amistake, Captain Gould. I hope you don't think I am offering this as acharity or purely as a favor to Mary. No, indeed! I am asking it as afavor to myself. I must have a companion, otherwise I cannot go. AndMary is just the companion I need. I am very fond of her and I think shelikes me. I am not going to urge too much, Captain Gould, but I do hopeyou will consider the matter with Mr. Hamilton and let me hear from yousoon. And I am hoping you will consent. I promise to take good care ofyour girl and bring her back safe and sound in September. And I shallnot say one word of my great plan to her until you write me that I may. "

So Captain Shadrach, the troubled expression still on his face, returnedon the afternoon train to South Harniss to tell his friend and partnerof Miss Pease's plan. Mary, who accompanied him to the Boston station, wondered why he seemed so preoccupied and quiet. If she had known whathis thoughts were she would have wondered no longer. 

Miss Pease planned to travel through Europe during the summer months, and she had asked the Captain's permission to take Mary with her as herguest and friend and companion. 

CHAPTER XV

If time and space did not matter, and if even more important happeningsin Mary-'Gusta's life were not as close at hand to claim attention, itwould be interesting to describe at length those of that spring and thesummer which followed it. Summarized in chronological order, they werethese: First, the lengthy discussions between the partners concerningMiss Pease's plan, discussions which ended by Zoeth, as senior partner, writing Miss Pease:

Shadrach and I say yes. We ought to have said it afore but flesh is weakand we found it kind of hard to make up our minds to spare our girl allsummer. But we know we ought to spare her and that it will be a splendidchance for her. So we say she shall go and we thank you more than we cansay. She will need clothes and fixings to take with her and Shadrach andI wish to ask if you will be kind enough to help her pick out what sheneeds. Maybe Mrs. Wyeth will help too. It will be a great favor if youtwo will do this, Shadrach and I not being much good at such things. Wewill send the money and will pay for all. 

Then came the breaking of the news to Mary herself. At first, aftershe could be made to believe the whole idea a perfectly serious oneand realized that a trip to Europe--her dearest day-dream, even when alittle girl, and the favorite play with the dolls in the attic at SouthHarniss--when she at last realized the opportunity that was hers, eventhen she hesitated to accept it. There were her uncles--they needed herso much in the store--they would miss her so dreadfully. She could notgo and leave them. The united efforts of Miss Pease and Mrs. Wyeth couldnot alter her determination to remain at home; only a joint declaration, amounting to a command and signed by both partners of Hamilton andCompany, had that effect. She consented then, but with reluctance. 

The steamer sailed from Boston--Miss Pease's civic loyalty forbade hertraveling on a New York boat--on the thirtieth of June, the week afterCommencement. Mary and Mrs. Wyeth attended the Commencement exercisesand festivities as Crawford's guest. Edwin Smith, Crawford's father, didnot come on from Carson City to see his son receive his parchment fromhis Alma Mater. He had planned to come--Crawford had begun to believe hemight come--but at the last moment illness had prevented. It was nothingserious, he wrote; he would be well and hearty when the boy came Westafter graduating. 

God bless you, son [the letter ended]. If you knew what it means foryour old dad to stay away you'd forgive him for being in the doctor'scare. Come home quick when it's over. There's a four-pound trout waitingfor one of us up in the lake country somewhere. It's up to you or me toget him. 

Crawford showed the letter to Mary. He was disappointed, but not so muchso as the girl expected. 

"I never really dared to count on his coming, " he explained. "It hasbeen this way so many times. Whenever Dad has planned to come Eastsomething happens to prevent. Now it has happened again; I was almostsure it would. It's a shame! I wanted you to meet him. And I wanted himto meet you, too, " he added. 

Mary also was a little disappointed. She had rather looked forward tomeeting Mr. Smith. He was her friend's father, of course, and that ofitself made him an interesting personality, but there was somethingmore--a sort of mystery about him, inspired in her mind by thephotograph which Crawford had shown her, which made her curious. The manin the photograph resembled Crawford, of course, but she had the feelingthat he resembled someone else even more--someone she had known or whosepicture she had seen. She was sorry she was not to meet him. 

Commencement was a wonderful time. Mary was introduced to dozens ofyoung fellows, attended spreads and sings and proms, danced a greatdeal, was asked to dance ever so much more, chatted and laughed andenjoyed herself as a healthy, happy, and pretty girl should enjoy acollege commencement. And on the following Tuesday she and Miss Pease, looking down from the steamer's deck, waved their handkerchiefs to Mrs. Wyeth and Zoeth and Captain Shadrach and Crawford who, standing on thewharf, waved theirs in return as the big ship moved slowly out of thedock and turned her nose toward Minot's Light and the open sea. For thefirst time since Hamilton and Company put up a sign both partners hadcome to Boston together. 

"Annabel's keepin' store, " explained Shadrach, "and Isaiah's helpin'. It'll be the blind leadin' the blind, I cal'late, but we don't care, dowe, Zoeth? We made up our mind we'd see you off, Mary-'Gusta, if we hadto swim to Provincetown and send up sky-rockets from Race P'int to letyou know we was there. Don't forget what I told you: If you should getas fur as Leghorn be sure and hunt up that ship-chandler name of Peroti. Ask him if he remembers Shad Gould that he knew in '65. If he ain't deadI bet you he'll remember. "

So Mary-'Gusta sailed away and for ten marvelous weeks daydreams cametrue and attic make-believes turned to realities. War had not yet cometo sow its seed of steel and fire and reap its harvest of blood anddeath upon the fair valleys and hills of France, and the travelersjourneyed leisurely from village to cathedral town and from the Seineto the Loire. They spent three weeks in Switzerland and two in Italy, returning for the final week to London where, under Miss Pease's expertguidance, Mary visited the shops, the big ones on Regent and OxfordStreets and the smaller, equally fascinating--and more expensive--oneson Bond Street and Piccadilly, buying presents and remembrances for thefolks at home. And, at last, came the day when, leaning upon the rail, she saw the misty headlands of Ireland sink beneath the horizon andrealized that her wonderful holiday was over and that she was homewardbound. 

The voyage was rather rough and stormy, as westerly voyages are likelyto be, but the ship was comfortable and speedy and they made goodtime. Mary spent but one day in Boston and, on the morning of the next, started for South Harniss. She had one week before school opened andthat week was to be spent with her uncles; no one else, she vowed, should have a minute of it. 

Great were the rejoicings in the white house by the shore that day, andmarvelous was the dinner Isaiah served in honor of the occasion. Marywas obliged to relate the story of her trip from start to finish, whilethree rapt listeners nodded and exclaimed in sympathy or broke in toask questions. She had written faithfully, but, as Isaiah said, "writin'ain't tellin'. " So Mary told and her uncles and Mr. Chase listened andquestioned. It was twelve o'clock that night before anyone thought ofgoing to bed, and next morning at the breakfast table the questioningbegan all over again. 

"Mrs. Wyeth was down at the dock, I presume likely, to meet you whenyour ship made port?" queried Zoeth. 

"Yes, she was there, " replied Mary. 

"Anybody else? How about that young Smith feller? Wa'n't he there, too?"asked Captain Shadrach with elaborate innocence. 

Mary colored just a little. She knew it was foolish; there was no reasonin the world why she should be embarrassed, but she could not help it. 

"No, Uncle Shad, " she answered. "He wasn't there. He has not returnedfrom the West yet, but he will be in Boston next week when the MedicalCollege opens. "

"Been havin' a good time out West there, has he?" inquired the Captain, still with studied unconcern. 

"Yes. At least he writes me that he has. " She looked from one to theother of her trio of listeners and then added: "I have some of hisletters here with me. If you'd like to hear them I'll read them aloud. "

"No, no, you needn't do that, " protested Shadrach hastily. But afteranother look at him Mary said, "I think I will, " and departed in searchof the letters. 

Captain Shad, looking a trifle guilty, glanced at his partner. 

"She needn't read 'em unless she wants to, need she, Zoeth?" he said. "I--I didn't mean for her to do that. "

Mr. Hamilton's face expressed doubt and disapproval. 

"Humph!" he said and that was all. 

Mary returned bearing the packet of letters, some of which she proceededto read. Crawford had spent the summer either at his home in CarsonCity or in camping with his father in the Sierras, where he had shot andfished and apparently enjoyed himself hugely. The letters were frankand straightforward, full of fun and exuberance, the sort of lettersa robust, clean-minded young fellow ought to write and sometimes does. They were not sentimental; even Isaiah, with what Captain Shadrachtermed his "lovesick imagination, " would not have called them so. 

The partners and Mr. Chase listened with interest to the reading of theletters and expressed their approval. Shadrach's applause was loudest ofall, but he seemed to find difficulty in meeting his niece's eye. Justbefore bedtime, after Zoeth and Isaiah had gone upstairs and hewas locking up for the night, Mary, whom he supposed had gone also, reentered the dining-room and stood before him. 

"Uncle Shad, " she said severely, "come here a minute and sit down. Iwant to talk with you. "

She led him to the big rocker. Then she took the little one beside it. 

"Now, look me in the face, " she commanded. "No, " not out of thewindow--here. Um . . . Yes. I don't wonder you turn red. I should thinkyou might be ashamed. "

"I--I--what's that?" stammered Shadrach, turning redder than ever. "Whatdo you mean? Turnin' red! Who's turnin' red?"

"You are, " said the young lady, firmly, "and you know it. Now, look mestraight in the eye. Uncle Shad Gould, don't you think it would havebeen more honorable, if you wished to know whether Crawford Smith andI corresponded, to have asked me instead of hinting? Don't you think itwould?"

"Hintin'? Why--why, Mary-'Gusta, what-what--?"

His face was a study in expression. Mary bit her lip, but she managed toappear solemn. 

"Yes, hinting, " she said. "Instead of asking if Crawford and I hadwritten each other you hinted. Well, now you know that we did write, andhave heard his letters to me, have you any objection?"

"Objection? No, no, course not. Why--I--I think 'twas a fine thing. I--Ilike to get letters; a heap better than I do to write 'em, " he addedtruthfully. 

"Then why?"

"Well--well--I--I--"

"And aren't you ashamed?" repeated Mary. 

"Why--why, yes, by the jumpin' fire, I am! There! I was ashamed when Idone it. "

"Then why did you do it?"

"Well--well, you see, Mary-'Gusta, I just wanted to know. Your UncleZoeth and me have been actin' as your pilots for a consider'ble spell. Course you're gettin' big enough now to cruise on your own hook--thatis, in reason, you understand--but--but--well, we've got so used totakin' an observation every noontime, seein' how you're layin' yourcourse, you know, that it's hard to lose the habit. Not that Zoeth wasin on this, " he added honestly. "He didn't do any of the hintin', as youcall it. I imagine he'll preach my head off for doin' it, when he getsme alone. "

"You deserve to have it preached off--or partly off, at any rate. Do youbeg my pardon?"

"Sartin sure. I'd beg it on my bended knees if 'twa'n't for therheumatiz. "

"And you won't hint any more?"

"Nary a hint. "

"That's right. If you want me to tell you anything, please ask. You musttrust me, Uncle Shad. I shall always tell--when there is anything totell. "

"I know you will, Mary-'Gusta. I'm ashamed of my hintin'. God bless you, dearie. Now kiss me good night. "

He kissed her and, holding her in his arms, looked fondly down into hereyes. And, as she returned his look, suddenly she blushed crimson andhid her face in his jacket. Then she broke away and with a good nightran from the room and up the stairs. 

Shadrach looked after her, sighed, and, after finishing his locking up, went upstairs himself. There was a light in his partner's room and heentered to find Mr. Hamilton sitting at the little table with severalsheets of paper covered with figures spread out before him. The Captainwas so busy with his own thoughts that, for the moment, he did notnotice the papers. 

"Zoeth, " he said, "our Mary-'Gusta's changed into a grown-up woman. Eventhis last summer has changed her. She don't look any older, and she'sprettier than ever, but she thinks different, and I have a notion that, no matter how much we may want to, you and me ain't goin' to be ableto keep her to ourselves as we--Eh?" suddenly becoming aware of hisfriend's occupation. "Are you still fussin' over those things? Didn't Itell you not to worry any more, but to turn in and sleep?"

Zoeth shook his head. His usually placid, gentle face had lost some ofits placidity. He looked worn and worried and the shadows thrown bythe lamp deepened the lines in his forehead. He looked up over hisspectacles. 

"Shadrach, " he said, "I can't help it. I try not to worry and I try toheave my burdens onto the Almighty, same as we're commanded, but I can'tseem to heave the whole of 'em there. If things don't pick up prettysoon, I don't know--I don't know--and I don't dare think, " he addeddespairingly. 

The sheet of paper he was holding rattled as his hand shook. CaptainShad scowled. 

"If we didn't have our winter goods to buy, " he muttered. "Our credit'sgood, that's one comfort. "

"It is up to now, because the Boston folks don't know. But WE know, orwe're afraid we know, and that makes it worse. How can we go on buyin'from folks that has stood our friends ever since we went into business, knowin' as we do that--"

His partner interrupted. 

"We don't know anything yet, " he declared. "Keep a stiff upper lip, Zoeth. Nine chances to one we'll weather it all right. WHAT a summerthis has been! And when I think, " he added savagely, "of how well we gotalong afore those new stores came it makes me nigh crazy. I'll go outwith a card of matches some night and burn 'em down. Damn pirates!Callin' themselves good Cape Cod names--names that don't belong to 'em!Baker's Bazaar! Ugh! Rheinstein's Robbers' Roost would be nigher thetruth. . . . Say, Zoeth, we mustn't hint a word to Mary-'Gusta aboutthis. We've got cash enough on hand to pay her clearance charges upthere at school, ain't we?"

"Yes, Shadrach, I've looked out for that. I don't know's I'd ought to. The money maybe had ought to go somewheres else, but--but right or wrongit's goin' for her and I hope the Lord'll forgive me. And what you say'strue, she mustn't know we're worried. She's so conscientious she mightbe for givin' up her schoolin' and comin' down here to help us. She'd bejust as liable to do it as not. "

"You're right, she would. Good thing she thinks she's got money of herown and that that money is payin' her schoolin' bills. She'd be frettin'all the time about the expense if 'twa'n't for that. You and I mustpretend everything's lovely and the goose hangin' high when she'saround. And we mustn't let Isaiah drop any hints. "

"No. Isaiah has asked me two or three times lately if the new storeswas hurtin' our trade. I shouldn't wonder if he had some suspicions downinside him. "

"Umph! Well, that's all right, so long as they stay inside. If I seesigns of one of those suspicions risin' above his Adam's apple I'llchoke 'em down again. I'll put a flea in Isaiah's ear, and I'll putmucilage on its feet so's 'twill stick there. "

So although Mary did notice that the two new shops in the village seemedto be prospering and that business at Hamilton and Company's wasnot rushing even for September, the answers to her questions were soreassuring that her uneasiness was driven away. Her Uncle Zoeth evadeddirect reply and Captain Shadrach prevaricated whole-heartedly andcheerfully. Even Isaiah declared that "everything and all hands wasdoin' fine. " But Mary made him promise that should it ever be otherwisethan fine he would write her immediately. He gave the promise with somereluctance. 

"I cal'late if Cap'n Shad caught me tellin' tales out of school he'd goto work and turn to and bust me over the head with a marlinespike, " saidMr. Chase, with the air of one stating a fact. 

Mary laughed. "Oh, no, he wouldn't, " she declared. "I'll stand back ofyou, Isaiah. Now mind, you are to keep me posted on JUST how things arehere. "

CHAPTER XVI

Mary went back to Boston and to school, where old acquaintances wererenewed and new ones made. The Misses Cabot welcomed her with fussy anddignified condescension. Barbara Howe hugged and kissed her and vowedshe had not seen a girl all summer who was half so sweet. 

"Why in the world someone doesn't run off with you and marry you thisvery minute I cannot see, " declared the vivacious young lady. "If I werea man I should. "

Mary, who was used to Miss Howe's outbursts, merely smiled. 

"Oh, no, you wouldn't, " she replied. "I should hope you would be moresensible. No one will run off with me; at least I wouldn't run off withthem. "

"Why not? Don't you think an elopement is perfectly splendid--soromantic and all that? Suppose you were head over heels in love withsomeone and his people were dead set against his marrying you, wouldn'tyou elope then?"

"I think I shouldn't. I think I should try to find out why they were soopposed to me. Perhaps there might be some good reason. If there were nogood reason, then--why, then--well, I don't know. But I should hesitatea long while before I came between a person and his family. It must bedreadful to do that. "

Barbara laughed. "Nonsense!" she cried. "It's done every day in the bestfamilies, my dear. And then the reconciliation is all the sweeter. Youjust wait! Some of these days I expect to read: 'Elopement in SouthHarniss High Life. Beautiful Society Maiden Weds Famous FormerFootball--er--er--I want another F--Oh, yes, Famous Former FootballFavorite. ' Isn't that beautiful? Dear me, how you blush! Or is itsunburn? At any rate, it's very becoming. "

The Famous Former Football Favorite called at Mrs. Wyeth's on theevening following that of Mary's return to Boston. He was as big andbrown as ever and declared that he had had a wonderful vacation. 

"And you're looking awfully well, too, " he exclaimed, inspecting herfrom head to foot. "She is, isn't she, Mrs. Wyeth?"

Mrs. Wyeth admitted that she thought so. Crawford nodded emphatically. 

"By George, you are!" he repeated. 

There was no doubt of his sincerity. In fact, the admiration in hisvoice and look was so obvious and unconcealed that Mary, althoughshe could not help being pleased, was a little embarrassed. Theembarrassment wore away, however, when he began to tell of his summerin the Sierras and to ask for additional particulars concerning herEuropean trip. He stayed longer than usual that evening and came againa few evenings later--to show them some photographs he had taken inthe mountains, so he said. And the following Sunday he dropped in toaccompany them to church. And--but why particularize? Perhaps it willbe sufficient to say that during that fall and winter the boy and girlfriendship progressed as such friendships are likely to do. Miss Pease, the romantic, nodded and looked wise and even Mrs. Wyeth no longerresented her friend's looks and insinuations with the same indignantcertainty of denial. 

"I don't know, Letitia, " she admitted. "I don't know. I'm beginning tothink he cares for her and may be really serious about it. Whether ornot she cares for him is quite another thing and I am sure I shan'tpresume to guess. If she does she keeps it to herself, as she does somany other things. She knows how to mind her own business and that is agift possessed by few, Letitia Pease. "

Mary went home for the Christmas vacation and spent the holidays, asshe had spent those of the previous year, in helping her uncles at thestore. The Christmas trade, although not so brisk as she had seen it, was not so bad as to alarm her, and the partners were optimistic asever. Isaiah, who had been talked to like a Dutch uncle by Captain Shadand was consequently in deadly fear of the latter's wrath, declaredthat as far as he could see everything was all right. So Mary left SouthHarniss and returned to school and the duties of the winter term withfew misgivings concerning matters at home. Crawford met her at the trainand came to the Pinckney Street house that evening to hear the news fromthe Cape. It was surprising, the interest in Cape Cod matters manifestedof late by that young man. 

On a day in early April, Mary, hurrying to Mrs. Wyeth's after school, found a letter awaiting her. She glanced at the postmark, which wasSouth Harniss, and the handwriting, which was Isaiah's, and then laid itaside to be read later on at her leisure. After many postponements andwith considerable reluctance she had accepted an invitation to dine withBarbara Howe at the latter's home in Brookline and this evening was thetime appointed. It would be her first plunge into society--the homelife of society, that is. The Howes were an old family, wealthy andwell-connected, and Mary could not help feeling somewhat nervous atthe ordeal before her. She knew something of the number and varietyof expensive gowns possessed by her young hostess and her own limitedwardrobe seemed doubly limited and plain by comparison. But she summonedher unfailing common sense to her rescue and found consolation in thefact that Barbara and her people knew she was, comparatively speaking, a poor girl, and therefore could hardly have invited her with theexpectation of seeing her arrayed in fine clothes. And if they had doneso--here was a bit of the old Mary-'Gusta philosophy--their opinionwas not worth consideration anyhow, and the sooner they and she reachedmutual disgust and parting the better. 

But although her best gown was not new nor expensive, and her jewelswere conspicuous by their absence, the picture she made as she stoodbefore the mirror giving the last touches to her hair was distinctly notan unpleasing one. Maggie, the maid, who entered the room to announce acaller, was extravagant in her praises. 

"Ah, sure, Miss, you look fine, " she declared. "You're that sweet onelook at you would sugar a cup of tea. Ah, he'll be that proud of you andhe ought to be, too. But he's a fine young man, and--"

"Who? What are you talking about, Maggie?" interrupted Mary. "Who willbe proud of me and who is a fine young fellow?"

"Who? Why, Mr. Smith, of course; who else? He's down in the parlorwaitin' for you now. I'll tell him you'll be down. "

Before Mary could stop her she had left the room and was on her waydownstairs. Mary followed a moment later. She had not expected a visitfrom Crawford, who had called already that week. She wondered why he hadcome. 

She found him in the parlor. Mrs. Wyeth was out shopping with MissPease, and he and she were alone. He rose to meet her as she entered. 

"Why, Crawford, " she said, "what is the matter? Has anything happened?Why do you look so serious?"

He smiled ruefully. "I guess because I am rather serious, " he answered. "I've had some news and I came to tell you about it. " Then, noticing hergown, he added: "But you're going out, aren't you?"

"I am going out by and by. I am going to dine and spend the evening withBarbara Howe. But I am not going yet. Won't you sit down?"

"I will if you're sure you can spare the time. I hope you can, because--well, because I do want to talk to you. I've had bad news fromhome. My father is ill--and in the doctor's care. "

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I hope it isn't serious. "

"I don't know whether it is or not. It can't be desperately serious, because he wrote the letter himself. But at any rate it's serious enoughfor me. He wants me to give up my work here at the Harvard Medical andcome West. "

Mary gasped. "Give it up!" she repeated. "Give up your studies? Give upmedicine? Surely he doesn't want you to do that!"

Crawford shook his head. "No, not quite that, " he replied. "I wouldn'tdo that, even for him. But he writes that he is not well and is notlikely to be better for a good while, if ever, and he would be very muchhappier if I were nearer at hand. He wants me to give up here at theHarvard Med. And take up my work again at Denver or Salt Lake City orsomewhere out there. Even Chicago would seem much nearer, he says. It'sa pitiful sort of letter. The old chap seems dreadfully down in thedumps. He wants me, that's plain enough, and he seems to think he needsme. Says if I were at Denver I could come home every little while, whereas here I can't. What ought I to do? I hate to say no, and I hatejust as much to say yes. "

Mary considered. 

"I think you must decide for yourself, " she said after a moment. "Youhave your career to consider, of course. "

"Yes, I have. But, to be perfectly honest, I suppose my career wouldnot be influenced greatly if I went. There are plenty of good medicalcolleges in the West. It is only that I am a Harvard man and I hoped tofinish at the Harvard school, that is all. But I COULD go. What do youadvise?"

Again Mary took time for consideration. Her face now was as grave ashis. At last she said, without raising her eyes: "I think you ought togo. "

He groaned. "I was afraid you would say that, " he admitted. "And Isuppose you are right. "

"Yes, I think I am. If your father needs you and wants you, and if yourcareer will not be influenced for harm, I--well, I think you should doas he wishes. "

"And my own wishes shouldn't count, I suppose?"

"Why, no, not in this case; not much, at any rate. Do you think theyshould?"

"Perhaps not. But--but yours?"

"Mine?"

"Yes. Do YOU want me to go away?" He leaned forward in his chair andrepeated earnestly: "Do you, Mary?"

She looked at him and her eyes fell before the look in his. Her heartbegan to beat quickly and she glanced apprehensively toward the partlyopened door. He rose and closed it. Then he came close to her. 

"Mary, " he said, earnestly, "do you know why this appeal of Dad's hashit me so very hard? Why it is going to be so mighty difficult to sayyes and leave here? It isn't because I hate to give up Harvard. I dohate that, of course, but I'd do it in a minute for Dad. It isn't that. It's because I can't--I just can't think of leaving you. You have cometo be--"

She interrupted. "Please don't, " she begged. "Please!"

He went on, unheeding:

"You have come to mean about all there is in life for me, " he declared. "It isn't money or success or reputation I've been working and pluggingfor these last few months; it's just you. I didn't think so once--I usedto think such things were just in books--but now I know. I love you, Mary. "

Again she protested. "Oh, Crawford, " she begged, "please!"

"No; you've got to hear me. It's true; I love you, and if you can carefor me, I am going to marry you. Not now, of course; I've got my way tomake first; but some day, if I live. "

His teeth set in the determined fashion she had learned to know meantunswerving purpose. She looked up, saw the expression of his face, andfor the instant forgot everything except her pride in him and her joythat she should have awakened such feelings. Then she remembered otherthings, things which she had spent many hours of many nights in debatingand considering. As he bent toward her she evaded him and rose. 

"Don't, Crawford! Please!" she said again. "You mustn't say such thingsto me. It isn't right that you should. "

He looked puzzled. "Why not?" he asked. "At any rate, right or wrong, Imust say them, Mary. I've been holding them in for months and now I'vejust got to say them. I love you and I want to marry you. May I?"

"Oh, no, Crawford! No! It is impossible. "

"Impossible! Why? Is it--is it because you don't care for me? Don't you, Mary?"

She did not answer. 

"Don't you?" he repeated. "Look at me! Can't you care, Mary?"

She was silent. But when he took a step toward her she raised her handsin protest. 

"Please don't!" she pleaded. "No, you mustn't--we mustn't think--Oh, no, it is impossible!"

"It isn't impossible. If you love me as I do you it is the only possiblething in the world. Listen, dear--"

"Hush! I mustn't listen. Be sensible, Crawford! think! We are both soyoung. You are only beginning your studies. It will be years before youcan--before you should consider marrying. "

"But we can wait. I am willing to wait if you will only promise to waitfor me. I'll work--HOW I'll work!--and--"

"I know, but we both have others besides ourselves to consider. I havemy uncles. They have done everything for me. And you have your father. Does he know--about me--about what you have just said to me?"

And now Crawford hesitated. Not long, but long enough for Mary to knowwhat the answer would be before it was spoken. 

"He doesn't know, " she said. "I thought not. Do you think he willapprove?"

"I hope he will. There is every reason why he should and absolutely nonewhy he shouldn't. Of course he'll approve; he's sensible. "

"Yes, but he may have plans of his own for you, and your marryingan Eastern girl may not be one of them. You have often told me howprejudiced he is against the East and Eastern people. He may disapprovestrongly. "

Crawford squared his shoulders. There was no hesitation or doubt in hisnext speech. 

"If he does it will make no difference, " he declared. "I care a wholelot for Dad and I'd do anything on earth for him--anything but the onething, that is: I won't give you up--provided you care for me--for himor for anyone else. That's final. "

He certainly looked as if it were. But Mary only shook her head. In thenew thoughts and new imaginings which had come to her during the pastwinter there had been a vague foreshadowing of a possible situationsomewhat like this. She had her answer ready. 

"Oh, no, it isn't, " she said. "You are his son, his only child, Crawford. He cares so much for you. You have often told me that, and--and I know he must. And you and he have been so happy together. Doyou think I would be the cause of breaking that relationship?"

He waved the question aside and asked one of his own. 

"Do you love me, Mary?" he asked. 

"You mustn't ask me, Crawford. Write your father. Tell him everything. Will you?"

"Yes, I will. I should have done it, anyway. If I go home, and I supposeI must, I shall tell him; it will be better than writing. But I wantyour answer before I go. Won't you give it to me?"

He looked very handsome and very manly, as he stood there pleading. ButMary had made up her mind. 

"I can't, Crawford, " she said. "Perhaps I don't know. I do know that itwould not be right for me to say what you want me to say--now. Go hometo your father; he needs you. Tell him everything and then--write me. "

He looked at her, a long, long look. Then he nodded slowly. 

"All right, " he said; "I will. I will tell him that I mean to marry you. If he says yes--as he will, I'm sure--then I'll write you that. If hesays no, I'll write you that. But in either case, Mary Lathrop, I shallmarry you just the same. Your own no will be the only thing that canprevent it. And now may I come and see you tomorrow evening?"

"Not tomorrow, Crawford. When will you start for home?"

"Saturday, I think. May I come the day after tomorrow? Just to saygood-by, you know. "

Mary was troubled. She could not deny him and yet she was certain itwould be better for them both if he did not come. 

"Perhaps, " she said doubtfully. "But only to say good-by. You mustpromise that. "

There was a ring at the bell. Then Maggie, the maid, appeared toannounce that the Howe motor car was waiting at the curb. A few momentslater Mary was in her room adjusting her new hat before the mirror. Ordinarily, adjusting that hat would have been an absorbing andpainstaking performance; just now it was done with scarcely a thought. How devoutly she wished that the Howe car and the Howe dinner werewaiting for anyone in the wide world but her! She did not wish to meetstrangers; she did not wish to go anywhere, above all she did not wishto eat. That evening, of all evenings in her life, she wished to bealone. However, accepted invitations are implied obligations and Mary, having adjusted the hat, gave her eyes a final dab with a handkerchiefand cold water and hastened down to answer the call to social martyrdom. 

It was not excruciating torture, that dinner in the Howe dining-room, even to a young lady who had just listened to a proposal of marriage anddesired to think of nothing less important. Mr. Howe was big and jolly. Mrs. Howe was gray-haired and gracious and Barbara was--Barbara. Also, there was a friend of Mr. Howe's, an elderly gentleman named Green, whoit seemed was one of a firm of wholesale grocers downtown, and whotold funny stories and, by way of proving that they were funny, laughedheartiest of all at the ending of each. He sat next Mrs. Howe duringdinner, but later, when they were all in the handsome drawing-room, hecame over and seated himself upon the sofa next Mary and entered intoconversation with her. 

"You are not a born Bostonian, I understand, Miss Lathrop, " he observed. "An importation, eh? Ho, ho! Yes. Well, how do you like us?"

Mary smiled. "Oh, I like Boston very much, Mr. Green, " she answered. "Iknow it better than any other American city, perhaps that is why. It wasthe only city I had ever seen until quite recently. I am imported--asyou call it--from not so far away. My home is on Cape Cod. "

Mr. Green regarded her with interest. 

"So?" he said. "From Cape Cod, eh? That's rather peculiar. I have beenvery much interested in the Cape for the past day or so. Something hasoccurred in connection with my business which brought the Cape to mind. My attention has been--er--as you may say, gripped by the strong rightarm of Massachusetts. Eh? Ho, ho!"

He chuckled at his own joke. Mary was rather bored, but she tried not toshow it. 

"What part of the Cape has interested you, Mr. Green?" she inquired forthe sake of saying something. 

"Eh? Oh--er--South Harniss. Little town down near the elbow. Do you knowit?"

Mary was surprised, of course. The answer which was on the tip of hertongue was naturally, "Why, yes, I live there. " But she did not makethat answer, although she has often wondered, since, why. What she saidwas: "Yes, I know South Harniss. "

"Do you, indeed?" went on Green. "Well, I don't, but I have known somepeople who live there for ever so long. My father knew them before me. They were customers of his and they have been buying of our firm foryears. Two old chaps who keep what I believe they would call a 'generalstore. ' Fine old fellows, both of them! Different as can be, andcharacters, but pure gold inside. I have had some bad news concerningthem. They're in trouble and I'm mighty sorry. "

Mary was bored no longer. She leaned forward and asked breathlessly:

"What are their names, Mr. Green?"

"Eh? Oh, the firm name is Hamilton and Company. That is simple and saneenough, but the names of the partners were cribbed from the book ofLeviticus, I should imagine--Zoeth and Shadrach! Ho, ho! Think of it!Think of wishing a name like Shadrach upon a helpless infant. The S. P. C. A. Or C. C. Or something ought to be told of it. Ho, ho!"

He laughed aloud. Mary did not laugh. 

"They--you said they were in trouble, " she said slowly. "What sort oftrouble?"

"Eh? Oh, the usual kind. The kind of goblin, young lady, which is likelyto get us business men if we don't watch out--financial trouble. Thefirm of Hamilton and Company has not kept abreast of the times, that'sall. For years they did a good business and then some new competitorswith up-to-date ideas came to town and--puff!--good-by to the oldfogies. They are in a bad way, I'm afraid, and will have to go under, unless--eh? But there! you aren't particularly interested, I dare say. It was your mention of Cape Cod which set me going. "

"Oh, but I am interested; I am, really. They must go under, you say?Fail, do you mean?"

"Yes, that is what I mean. I am very sorry. Our firm would go onselling them goods almost indefinitely for, as I have said, they are oldcustomers and in a way old friends. But they are absolutely honest andthey will not buy what they cannot pay for. We have some pitiful lettersfrom them--not whining, you know, but straightforward and frank. Theydon't ask favors, but tell us just where they stand and leave it to usto refuse credit if we see fit. It is just one of the little tragediesof life, Miss Lathrop, but I'm mighty sorry for those two old friends ofmy father's and mine. And the worst of it is that, from inquiries Ihave made, it would seem that they have been sacrificing themselves byspending their money lavishly and uselessly on someone else. They have agirl in the family, a sort of adopted niece, whatever that is, and, notcontent with bringing her up like a sensible, respectable country girl, they must dress her like a millionaire's daughter and send her off tosome extravagantly expensive seminary where--Why, what is the matter?Eh? Good heavens! What have I been saying? You don't know these people, do you?"

Mary turned a very white face toward his. 

"They are my uncles, " she said. "My home is at South Harniss. Pleaseexcuse me, Mr. Green. "

She rose and walked away. A few minutes later, when Mr. Howe approachedthe sofa, he found his friend sitting thereon, staring at nothing inparticular and fervently repeating under his breath, "The devil! Thedevil! The devil!"

Mary got away as soon as she could. Her looks attracted Barbara'sattention and the young lady asked if she were not feeling well. Maryreplied that she was not, and although it was not serious please mightshe be permitted to go home at once? She was sent home in the automobileand when she reached her own room her first act was to find and openIsaiah's letter which had arrived that afternoon. With trembling fingersshe held it beneath the gas jet and this is what she read:

DEAR MARY AUGUSTA:

I had not ought to write you this and your Uncles would pretty nigh killme if they knew I done so but I am going to just the same. Busines hasgone to rack and ruin. Hamilton & Co. Thanks to those and other darnedstores, ain't making enough to keep boddy and soul together and they aremaking themselves sick over it. I don't know what will become of them toif something or someboddy does not think up some way to help them overthe shoals. They do not tell anyone and least of all they wouldent wantyou to be told, but I think you ought to be. They have done a whole lotfor you. Can't you think up some way to do something for them. For godSakes write right off. 

Yours truly, ISAIAH CHASE. 

CHAPTER XVII

People grow older, even on the Cape, where hurry--except by theautomobiles of summer residents--is not considered good form and whereFather Time is supposed to sit down to rest. Judge Baxter, Ostable'sleading attorney-at-law, had lived quietly and comfortably during theyears which had passed since, as Marcellus Hall's lawyer, he read theastonishing letter to the partners of Hamilton and Company. He was overseventy now, and behind his back Ostable folks referred to him as "oldJudge Baxter"; but although his spectacles were stronger than at thattime, his mental faculties were not perceptibly weaker, and he walkedwith as firm, if not so rapid, a stride. So when, at eleven in theforenoon of the day following Mary's dinner at the Howes' home, theJudge heard someone enter the outer room of his offices near the Ostablecourthouse, he rose from his chair in the inner room and, withoutwaiting for his clerk to announce the visitor, opened the door himself. 

The caller whose question the clerk was about to answer, or wouldprobably have answered as soon as he finished staring in awestruckadmiration, was a young lady. The Judge looked at her over hisspectacles and then through them and decided that she was a stranger. Hestepped forward. 

"I am Judge Baxter, " he said. "Did you wish to see me?"

She turned toward him. "Yes, " she said simply. "I should like to talkwith you for a few moments if you are not too busy. "

The Judge hesitated momentarily. Only the week before a persistent andfluent young female had talked him into the purchase of a set of"Lives of the Great Jurists, " the same to be paid for in thirty-fiveinstallments of two dollars each. Mrs. Baxter had pronounced the "GreatJurists" great humbugs, and her husband, although he pretended to findthe "Lives" very interesting, was secretly inclined to agree with her. So he hesitated. The young woman, evidently noticing his hesitation, added:

"If you are engaged just now I shall wait. I came to see you on a matterof business, legal business. "

Judge Baxter tried to look as if no thought of his visitor's havinganother purpose had entered his mind. 

"Oh, yes, certainly! Of course!" he said hastily, and added: "Will youwalk in?"

She walked in--to the private office, that is--and the Judge, followingher, closed the door. His clerk stared wistfully at his own side of thatdoor for a full minute, then sighed heavily and resumed his work, whichwas copying a list of household effects belonging to a late lamented whohad willed them, separately and individually, to goodness knew how manycousins, first, second, and third. 

In the private office the Judge asked his visitor to be seated. She tookthe chair he brought forward. Then she said:

"You don't remember me, I think, Judge Baxter. I am Mary Lathrop. "

The Judge looked puzzled. The name sounded familiar, but he could notseem to identify its owner. 

"Perhaps you would remember me if I told you my whole name, " suggestedthe latter. "I am Mary Augusta Lathrop. I think perhaps you used to callme Mary-'Gusta; most people did. "

Then the Judge remembered. His astonishment was great. 

"Mary-'Gusta Lathrop!" he repeated. "Mary-'Gusta! Are you--? Why, itscarcely seems possible! And yet, now that I look, I can see that it is. Bless my soul and body! How do you do? It must be almost--er--seven oreight years since I have seen you. South Harniss is only a few milesoff, but I am getting--er--older and I don't drive as much as I used to. But there! I am very glad to see you now. And how are Captain Gould andMr. Hamilton? There is no need to ask how you are. Your looks are thebest answer to that. "

Mary thanked him and said she was very well. Her uncles, too, were well, she added, or they were when she last heard. 

"I am on my way home to them now, " she added. "For the past two years Ihave been at school in Boston. I left there this morning and got offthe train here because I wished very much to see you, Judge Baxter. Yesterday--last evening--I heard something--I was told something which, if it is true, is--is--"

She bit her lip. She was evidently fighting desperately not to loseself-control. The Judge was surprised and disturbed. 

"Why, Mary!" he exclaimed. "I suppose I may call you Mary still; as anold friend I hope I may. What is the matter? What did you hear? What doyou wish to see me about?"

She was calm enough now, but her earnestness was unmistakable. 

"I heard something concerning myself and my uncles which surprised andshocked me dreadfully, " she said. "I can hardly believe it, but I mustknow whether it is true or not. I must know at once! You can tell methe truth, Judge Baxter, if you only will. That is why I came here thismorning. Will you tell it to me? Will you promise that you will answermy questions, every one, with the exact truth and nothing else? Andanswer them all? Will you promise that?"

The Judge looked even more surprised and puzzled. He rubbed his chin andsmiled doubtfully. 

"Well, Mary, " he said, "I think I can promise that if I answer yourquestions at all I shall answer them truthfully. But I scarcely liketo promise to answer them without knowing what they are. A lawyer has agood many secrets intrusted to him and he is obliged to be careful. "

"I know. But this is a secret in which I am interested. I am interestedin it more than anyone else. I must know the truth about it! I MUST! Ifyou won't tell me I shall find out somehow. WILL you tell?"

Judge Baxter rubbed his chin again. 

"Don't you think you had better ask your questions?" he suggested. 

"Yes; yes, I do. I will. How much money did my stepfather, CaptainMarcellus Hall, have when he died?"

The Judge's chin-rubbing ceased. His eyebrows drew together. 

"Why do you want to know?" he asked, after a moment. 

"Because I do. Because it is very important that I should. It is myright to know. Was he a rich man?"

"Um--er--no. I should not call him that. Hardly a rich man. "

"Was he very poor?"

"Mary, I don't exactly see why--"

"I do. Oh, Judge Baxter, please don't think I am asking this for anyselfish reasons. I am not, indeed I'm not! All my life, ever since I wasold enough to think of such things at all, I have supposed--I have beenled to believe that my stepfather left me plenty of money--money enoughto pay my uncles for taking care of me, for my clothes and board, andnow, during these last two years, for my studies in Boston. I never, never should have consented to go to that school if I hadn't supposed Iwas paying the expenses myself. I knew my uncles were not well-to-do; Iknew they could not afford to--to do what they had already done for me, even before that. And now--last night--I was told that--that they werein great financial trouble, that they would probably be obliged to failin business, and all because they had been spending their money on me, sacrificing themselves and their comfort and happiness in order that'an adopted niece with extravagant ideas' might be educated above herstation; that is the way the gentleman who told me the story put it. Ofcourse he didn't know he was talking to the niece, " she added, with apathetic little smile; "but, oh, Judge, can't you see now why I mustknow the truth--all of the truth?"

Her fingers clasped and unclasped in her lap. The Judge laid his ownhand upon them. 

"There, there, my dear, " he said soothingly. "Tut, tut, tut! What's allthis about your uncles failing in business? That isn't possible, is it?Tell me the whole thing, just as it was told to you. "

So Mary told it, concluding by exhibiting Isaiah Chase's letter. 

"It must be very bad, you see, " she said. "Isaiah never would havewritten if it had not been. It is hard enough to think that while I wasenjoying myself in Europe and at school they were in such trouble andkeeping it all to themselves. That is hard enough, when I know howthey must have needed me. But if it should be true that it istheir money--money they could not possibly spare--that I have beenspending--wasting there in Boston, I--I--Please tell me, Judge Baxter!Have I any money of my own? Please tell me. "

The Judge rose and walked up and down the floor, his brows drawntogether and his right hand slapping his leg at each turn. After sevenor eight of these turns he sat down again and faced his caller. 

"Mary, " he said, "suppose this story about your uncles' financial andbusiness troubles should be true, what will you do?"

Mary met his look bravely. Her eyes were moist, but there was nohesitation in her reply. 

"I shall stay at home and help them in any way I can, " she said. "Therewill be no more Boston and no more school for me. They need me there athome and I am going home--to stay. "

"Whether it is your money or theirs which has paid for your education?"

"Certainly. Of course I never should have gone away at all if I hadnot supposed my own money were paying the expenses. Judge, you haven'tanswered my question--and yet I think--I am afraid that you haveanswered it. It was their money that paid, wasn't it?"

Judge Baxter was silent for a moment, as if in final deliberation. Thenhe nodded, solemnly. 

"Yes, Mary, " he said, "it was their money. In fact, it has been theirmoney which has paid for most things in your life. Shadrach Gould andZoeth Hamilton aren't, maybe, the best business men in the world, butthey come pretty near to being the best MEN, in business or out ofit, that I have met during seventy odd years on this planet. I think, perhaps, it will be well for you to know just how good they have been toyou. Now, listen!"

He began at the beginning, at the day of Marcellus Hall's funeral, when he read the letter to Shadrach and Zoeth, the letter intrustingMary-'Gusta to their care. He told of Marcellus's unfortunateinvestments, of the loss of the latter's fortune, and how, when theestate was settled, there were but a few hundreds where it was expectedthere might be a good many thousands. 

"Don't make any mistake, Mary, " he said earnestly. "Your uncles knewthere was little or no money when they decided to take you. They tookyou simply for yourself, because they cared so much for you, not becausethey were to make a cent from the guardianship. Everything you havehad for the past two years their money has paid for and you may beabsolutely certain they never have grudged a penny of it. The last timeI saw Captain Gould he was glorying in having the smartest and best girlin Ostable County. And Mr. Hamilton--"

She interrupted him. "Don't, please!" she said chokingly. "Please don'ttell me any more just now. I--I want to think. "

"There isn't any more to tell, " he said gently. "I am going into thenext room. I shall be back in a few minutes. Then, if you care to, wecan talk a little more. "

When he returned she had risen and was standing by the window lookingout into the back yard. She was calm and even smiled a little as heentered, although the smile was a rather pitiful one. Of the two theJudge looked the more perturbed. 

"Whew!" he exclaimed, after carefully closing the door behind him. "I'vebeen doing a little thinking my self, young lady, since I left you here. I've been thinking that I had better take a trip to Canada or China orsomewhere and start in a hurry, too. When your uncles find out that Itold you this thing they have succeeded in keeping from you all thistime--well, it will be high time for me to be somewhere else. " Helaughed and then added gravely: "But I still think I was right intelling you. Under the circumstances it seems to me that you shouldknow. "

"Of course I should. If you had not told me I should have found it out, now that my suspicions were aroused. Thank you, Judge Baxter. Now I mustgo. "

"Go? Go where?"

"Home--to South Harniss. "

"Nonsense! You're not going to South Harniss yet awhile. You're going tohave dinner with my wife and me. "

"Thank you. I can't. I must go at once. By the next train. "

"There isn't any train until nearly four o'clock. " Then, noticing herlook of disappointment, he went on to say: "But that shan't make anydifference. I'll send you over in my nephew's automobile. I'm notsufficiently up-to-date to own one of the cussed--excuse me things, buthe does and I borrow it occasionally. I don't drive it; good heavens, no! But his man shall drive you over and I'll guarantee you beat thetrain. If you don't, it won't be because you go too slow. Now, ofcourse, you'll stay to dinner. "

But Mary shook her head. "You're very kind, Judge, " she said, "and Ithank you very much, but--"

"Well, but what?"

"But I--I can't. I--I--Oh, don't you see? I couldn't eat, or even tryto--now. I want to get home--to them. "

"And so you shall, my dear. And in double-quick time, too. Here, Jesse, "opening the door to the outer office and addressing the clerk, "youstep over and tell Samuel that I want to borrow his car and Jim for twohours. Tell him I want them now. And if his car is busy go to Cahoon'sgarage and hire one with a driver. Hurry!"

"And now, Mary, " turning to her, "can you tell me any more about yourplans, provided you have had time to make any? If this story about youruncles' business troubles is true, what do you intend doing? Or don'tyou know?"

Mary replied that her plans were very indefinite, as yet. 

"I have some ideas, " she said; "some that I had thought I might useafter I had finished school and come back to the store. They may notbe worth much; they were schemes for building up the business there andadding some other sorts of business to it. The first thing I shall do isto see how bad the situation really is. "

"I hope it isn't bad. Poor Zoeth certainly has had trouble enough in hislife. "

There was a significance in his tone which Mary plainly did notunderstand. 

"What trouble do you mean?" she asked. 

The Judge looked at her, coughed, and then said hastily: "Oh, nothing inparticular; every one of us has troubles, I suppose. But, Mary, if--ifyou find that the story is true and--ahem--a little money might helpto--er--tide the firm over--why, I--I think perhaps that it mightbe--ahem--arranged so that--"

He seemed to be having difficulty in finishing the sentence. Mary didnot wait to hear the end. 

"Thank you, Judge, " she said quickly. "Thank you, but I am hoping it maynot be so bad as that. I am going back there, you know, and--well, asUncle Shadrach would say, we may save the ship yet. At any rate, wewon't call for help until the last minute. "

Judge Baxter regarded her with admiration. 

"Shadrach and Zoeth are rich in one respect, " he declared; "they've gotyou. But it is a wicked shame that you must give up your school and youropportunities to--"

She held up her hand. 

"Please don't!" she begged. "If you knew how glad I am to be able to dosomething, if it is only to give up!"

The car and Jim were at the door a few minutes later and Mary, havingsaid good-by to the Judge and promised faithfully to keep him posted asto events at home, climbed into the tonneau and was whizzed away. Jim, the driver, after a few attempts at conversation, mainly concerning the"unseasonableness" of the weather, finding responses few and absentlygiven, relapsed into silence. Silence was what Mary desired, silence andspeed, and Jim obliged with the latter. 

Over the road by which, a dozen years before, she had driven in the oldbuggy she now rode again. Then, as now, she wondered what she shouldfind at her journey's end. Here, however, the resemblance ceased, for whereas then she looked forward, with a child's anticipations, tonothing more definite than new sights and new and excitingly delightfuladventures, now she saw ahead--what? Great care and anxiety andtrouble certainly, these at the best; and at the worst, failureand disappointment and heartbreak. And behind her she was leavingopportunity and the pleasant school life and friends, leaving themforever. 

She was leaving Crawford, too, leaving him without a word ofexplanation. She had had no time to write even a note. Mrs. Wyeth, afterprotesting vainly against her guest's decision to leave for the Cape bythe earliest train in the morning, had helped to pack a few essentialbelongings; the others she was to pack and send later on, when shereceived word to do so. The three, Mrs. Wyeth, Miss Pease, and Mary, hadtalked and argued and planned until almost daylight. Then followed anhour or two of uneasy sleep, a hurried breakfast, and the rush to thetrain. Mary had not written Crawford; the shock of what she had beentold at the Howes' and her great anxiety to see Judge Baxter and learnif what she had heard was true had driven even her own love story fromher mind. Now she remembered that she had given him permission to call, not this evening but the next, to say good-by before leaving for theWest. He would be disappointed, poor fellow. Well, she must not think ofthat. She must not permit herself to think of anyone but her uncles orof anything except the great debt of love and gratitude she owed themand of the sacrifice they had made for her. She could repay a little ofthat sacrifice now; at least she could try. She would think of that andof nothing else. 

And then she wondered what Crawford would think or say when he found shehad gone. 

CHAPTER XVIII

The main street of South Harniss looked natural enough as the motor carbuzzed along it. It was but a few months since Mary had been there, yet it seemed ever so much more. She felt so much older than on thoseChristmas holidays. When the store of Hamilton and Company came in sightshe sank down on the back seat in order not to be seen. She knew heruncles were, in all probability, there at the store, and she wished tosee Isaiah and talk with him before meeting them. 

Isaiah was in the kitchen by the cookstove when she opened the door. Heturned, saw her, and stood petrified. Mary entered and closed the doorbehind her. By that time Mr. Chase had recovered sufficiently from hisossification to speak. 

"Eh--eh--by time!" he gasped. "I snum if it ain't you!"

Mary nodded. "Isaiah, " she asked quickly, "are you alone? Are my uncles, both of them, at the store?"

But the cook and steward had not yet completely got over the effect ofthe surprise. He still stared at her. 

"It IS you, ain't it!" he stammered. "I--I--by time, I do believe you'vecome home, same as I asked you to. "

"Of course I've come home. How in the world could I be here if Ihadn't? DON'T stare at me like that, with your mouth open like a--like acodfish. Tell me, are Uncle Shad and Uncle Zoeth at the store?"

"Eh--Yes, I cal'late they be. Ain't neither of 'em come home to dinneryet. I'm expectin' one of 'em 'most any minute. I'll run up and fetch'em. Say! How in the nation did you get here this time of day?"

"I shall tell you by and by. No, I don't want you to get my uncles. Iwant to talk with you alone first. Now, Isaiah, sit down! Sit downin that chair. I want you to tell me just how bad things are. Tell meeverything, all you know about it, and don't try to make the situationbetter than it is. And please HURRY!"

Isaiah, bewildered but obedient, sat down. The command to hurry had theeffect of making him so nervous that, although he talked enough to havedescribed the most complicated situation, his ideas were badly snarledand Mary had to keep interrupting in order to untangle them. And, afterall, what he had to tell was not very definite. Business was bad at thestore; that was plain to everyone in town. "All hands" were tradingat the new stores where prices were lower, stocks bigger and moreup-to-date, and selling methods far, far in advance of those of Hamiltonand Company. 

"About the only customers that stick by us, " declared Isaiah, "are folkslike 'Rastus Young and the rest of the deadbeats. THEY wouldn't leave usfor nothin'--and nothin's what they pay, too, drat 'em!"

The partners had not told him of their troubles, but telling was notnecessary. He had seen and heard enough. 

"They are right on the ragged edge of goin' on the rocks, " vowed Isaiah. "Zoeth, he's that thin and peaked 'twould make a sick pullet look fleshyalongside of him. And Cap'n Shad goes around with his hands rammed downin his beckets--"

"In his what?"

"In his britches pockets, and he don't scurcely speak a word for hoursat a stretch. And they're up all times of the night, fussin' overaccount books and writin' letters and I don't know what all. It's plainenough what's comin'. Everybody in town is on to it. Why, I was up tothe store t'other day settin' outside on the steps and Ab Bacheldor camealong. He hates Cap'n Shad worse'n pizen, you know. 'Hello, Isaiah!' hesays to me, he says. 'Is that you?' he says. 'Course it's me, ' says I. Who'd you think 'twas?' 'I didn't know but it might be the sheriff, 'he says. 'I understand he's settin' round nowadays just a-waitin'. ' AndZoeth was right within hearin', too!"

"Oh!" exclaimed Mary indignantly. 

"Yup, that's what he said, " went on Isaiah. "But I got in one dig on myown hook. 'The sheriff don't wait much down to your house, Abner, doeshe?' says I. 'You bet he don't, ' says he; 'he don't have to. ' 'Well, he'd starve to death if he waited there long, ' says I. Ho, ho! Hiswife's the stingiest woman about her cookin' that there is on the Cape. Why, one time she took a notion she'd keep boarders and Henry Ryder, that drives the fruit cart, he started to board there. But he onlystayed two days. The fust day they had biled eggs and the next daythey had soup made out of the shells. Course that probably ain'ttrue--Henry's an awful liar--but all the same--"

"Never mind Henry Ryder, or Abner Bacheldor, either, " interrupted Mary. "How did you happen to send for me, Isaiah?"

"Eh? Oh, that just came of itself, as you might say. I kept gettin' moreand more tittered up and worried as I see how things was goin' and Ikept wishin' you was here, if 'twas only to have somebody to talk itover with. But I didn't dast to write and when you was home Christmas Inever dast to say nothin' because Cap'n Shad had vowed he'd butcher meif I told tales to you about any home troubles. That's it, you see! Allthrough this their main idea has been not to trouble you. 'She mustn'tknow anything or she'll worry, ' says Zoeth, and Cap'n Shad he says, 'That's so. ' They think an awful sight of you, Mary-'Gusta. "

Mary did not trust herself to look up. 

"I know, " she said. "Go on, Isaiah. "

"Well, I kept thinkin' and thinkin' and one day last week Ezra Hopkins, that's the butcher cart feller, he and me was talkin' and he says:'Trade ain't very brisk up to the store, is it?' he says. 'Everybodysays 'tain't. ' 'Then if everybody knows so much what d'ye ask me for?'says I. 'Oh, don't get mad, ' says he. 'But I tell you this, Isaiah, 'he says, 'if Mary-'Gusta Lathrop hadn't gone away to that fool Bostonschool things would have been different with Hamilton and Company. She'sa smart girl and a smart business woman. I believe she'd have saved theold fellers, ' he says. 'She was up-to-date and she had the know-how, 'says he. Well, I kept thinkin' what he said and--and--well, I wrote. Forthe land sakes don't tell Shad nor Zoeth that I wrote, but I'm glad Idone it. I don't know's you can do anything, I don't know's anybody can, but I'm mighty glad you're here, Mary-'Gusta. "

Mary sighed. "I'm glad I am here, too, Isaiah, " she agreed, "although I, too, don't know that I can do anything. But, " she added solemnly, "Iam going to try very hard. Now we mustn't let Uncle Shad or Uncle Zoethknow that I have heard about their trouble. We must let them think I amat home for an extra holiday. Then I shall be able to look things overand perhaps plan a little. When I am ready to tell what I mean to do Ican tell the rest. . . . Sshh! Here comes one of them now. It's UncleZoeth. Look happy, Isaiah! HAPPY--not as if you were choking to death!Well, Uncle Zoeth, aren't you surprised to see me?"

Surprised he certainly was; at first, like Isaiah, he could scarcelybelieve she was really there. Then, naturally, he wished to know WHYshe was there. She dodged the questions as best she could and Zoeth, innocent and truthful as always, accepted without a suspicion her vagueexplanation concerning an opportunity to run down and see them for alittle while. Dinner was put on the table and then Isaiah hastened up torelieve Shadrach at the store in order that the partners and Mary mighteat together. 

The Captain arrived a few minutes later, red-faced, vociferous, andjoyful. 

"Well, " he shouted, throwing his arms about her and kissing her with asmack which might have been heard in Abner Bacheldor's yard, "if THISain't a surprise! Zoeth said this mornin' he felt as if somethin' wasgoin' to happen, and then Isaiah upset the tea kittle all over both myfeet and I said I felt as if it HAD happened. But it hadn't, had it!Well, if it ain't good to look at you, Mary-'Gusta! How'd you happen tocome this time of year? Has the schoolhouse foundered?"

Mary repeated the excuse she had given Mr. Hamilton. It was sufficient. The partners were too happy at having her with them to be overcuriousconcerning her reasons for coming. Captain Shad talked and joked andlaughed and Zoeth nodded and smiled in his quiet way. If Mary had notknown their secret she would not have guessed it but, as it was, shenoticed how pale and worn Mr. Hamilton looked and how the Captain hadbecome prone to fits of unwonted silence from which he seemed to arousehimself with an effort and, after a glance at her, to talk and laughlouder than ever, Once she ventured to ask how business was and it wouldhave been almost funny if it had not been so pathetic, the haste withwhich they both assured her that it was about the same. 

After dinner she announced her intention of going up to the store. Heruncles exchanged looks and then Zoeth said:

"What makes you do that, Mary-'Gusta? Nice day like this I'd be out ofdoor if I was you. We don't need you at the store, do we, Shadrach?"

"Not more'n a fish needs a bathin' suit, " declared the Captain, with conviction. "You go see some of the girls and have a good time, Mary-'Gusta. "

But Mary declined to go and see any of the girls. She could have abetter time at the store than anywhere else, she said. She went to thestore and spent the afternoon and evening there, watching and listening. There was not much to watch, not more than a dozen customers duringthe entire time, and those bought but little. The hardest part of theexperience for her was to see how eager her uncles were to pleaseeach caller and how anxiously each watched the other's efforts and theresult. To see Zoeth at the desk poring over the ledger, his lips movingand the pencil trembling in his fingers, was as bad as, but no worsethan, to see Captain Shadrach, a frown on his face and his hands in hispockets, pace the floor from the back door to the front window, stop, look up the road, draw a long breath that was almost a groan, then turnand stride back again. 

At six o'clock Mary, who had reasons of her own for wishing to be leftalone in the store, suggested that she remain there while her uncleswent home for supper. Neither Mr. Hamilton nor the Captain wouldconsent, so she was obliged to go to the house herself and send Isaiahup once more to act as shopkeeper. But at eleven that night, afterunmistakable sounds from their rooms were furnishing proofs that bothpartners of Hamilton and Company were asleep, she tiptoed downstairs, put on her coat and hat, took the store keys from the nail where Zoethalways hung them, and went out. She did not return until almost three. 

The next day she spent, for the most part, at the store. She wroteseveral letters and, in spite of her uncles' protests, waited uponseveral customers. That evening, as she sat behind the counter thinking, a boy whom Captain Shadrach identified as Zenas Atkins' young-one rushedbreathlessly into the store to announce between gasps that "Mary-'GustaLathrop's wanted on the phone. It's long distance, too, and--and--you'vegot to scrabble 'cause they're holdin' the wire. " Mary hurried out andto the telephone office. She had not answered Shadrach's question asto who she thought was calling. She did not know, of course, but shesuspected, and for a cool-headed young business woman, a girl who hadruthlessly driven all thoughts except those of business from her mind, her heart beat surprisingly fast as she entered the closet which actedas a substitute for a telephone booth, and took down the receiver. Yether tone was calm enough as she uttered the stereotyped "Hello. "

The wire hummed and sang, fragments of distant conversation becameaudible and were lost, and then a voice, the voice which she wasexpecting but, in a way, dreading to hear, asked: "Hello! Is this MissLathrop?"

"Yes, Crawford. "

"Mary, is that you?"

"Yes. "

"I have just called at Mrs. Wyeth's and learned that you had gone. Iam awfully disappointed. I leave for home tomorrow and I had counted onseeing you before I went. Why did you go without a word to me?"

"Didn't Mrs. Wyeth tell you?"

"She told me a good deal, but I want to know more. Is it true--thatabout your uncles?"

"I am afraid it is. "

"Great Scott, that's too bad! I am mighty sorry to hear it. Look here, isn't there something I can do? Do they need--"

"Sshh! we mustn't talk about it over the phone. No, there is nothing youcan do. I have some plans partially worked out; something may come ofthem. Please don't ask more particulars now. "

"All right, I understand; I won't. But mayn't I come down and see you?I can start West the day after tomorrow just as well and that would giveme time--"

"No, Crawford, no. You mustn't come. "

"I've a good mind to, whether or no. "

"If you do I shall not see you--then or at any other time. But youwon't, will you?"

"No, Mary, I won't. It's mighty hard, though. "

Perhaps it was quite as hard for her, but she did not reply. 

"Will you write me--every day?" he went on. . . . "Why don't youanswer?"

"I was thinking what would be best for me to do, " she said; "best for usboth, I mean. I shall write you one letter surely. "

"ONE!"

"One surely. I want you to understand just what my coming here means andwhat effect it may have upon my future. You should know that. Afterward, whether I write you or not will depend. "

"Depend! Of course you'll write me! Depend on what?"

"On what seems right to me after I have had time to think, and after youhave seen your father. I must go, Crawford. Thank you for calling me. Iam glad you did. Good-by. "

"Wait! Mary, don't go! Let me say this--"

"Please, Crawford! I'd rather you wouldn't say any more. You understandwhy, I'm sure. I hope you will have a pleasant trip home and find yourfather's health much improved. Good-by. "

She hung up the receiver and hastened back to the store. Shadrach andZoeth looked at her questioningly. Finally the former said:

"Anything important, was it?"

"No, Uncle Shad, not very important. "

"Oh!"

A short interval of silence, then--

"Mrs. Wyeth callin', I presume likely, eh?"

"No, Uncle Shad. "

Shadrach asked no more questions, and Zoeth asked none. Neither ofthem again mentioned Mary's call to the phone, either to her or to eachother. And she did not refer to it. She had promised her Uncle Shadrach, when he questioned her the year before concerning Crawford, to tell him"when there was anything to tell. " But was there anything to tell now?With the task which she had set herself and the uncertainty before hershe felt that there was not. Yet to keep silence troubled her. Untilrecently there had never been a secret between her uncles and herself;now there were secrets on both sides. 

CHAPTER XIX

At twelve o'clock on a night late in the following week CaptainShadrach, snoring gloriously in his bed, was awakened by his partner'sentering the room bearing a lighted lamp. The Captain blinked, raisedhimself on his elbow, looked at his watch which was on the chair by thebed's head, and then demanded in an outraged whisper:

"What in the nation are you prowlin' around this hour of the nightfor? You don't want to talk about those divilish bills and credits andthings, I hope. What's the use? Talkin' don't help none! Jumpin' fire!I went to bed so's to forget 'em and I was just beginnin' to do it. Nowyou--"

Zoeth held up his hand. "Sshh! sshh!" he whispered. "Hush, Shadrach!I didn't come to talk about those things. Shadrach, there's--there'ssomethin' queer goin' on. Get up!"

The Captain was out of bed in a moment. 

"What's the matter?" he demanded, in a whisper. "What's queer?"

"I--I don't exactly know. I heard somebody movin' downstairs and--"

Shadrach grunted. "Isaiah!" he exclaimed. "Walkin' in his sleep again, I'll bet a dollar!"

"No, no! It ain't Isaiah. Isaiah ain't walked in his sleep since he wasa child. "

"Well, he's pretty nigh his second childhood now, judgin' by the wayhe acts sometimes. It was Isaiah of course! Who else would be walkin'around downstairs this time of night?"

"That's what I thought, so I went and looked. Shadrach, it wasMary-'Gusta. Hush! Let me tell you! She had her things on, hat and all, and she took the lantern and lit it and went out. "

"Went OUT!"

"Yes, and--and up the road. Now, where--?"

Shadrach's answer was to stride to the window, pull aside the shade andlook out. Along the lane in the direction of the village a fiery sparkwas bobbing. 

"There she goes now, " he muttered. "She's pretty nigh to the corneralready. What in the world can she be up to? Where is she bound--attwelve o'clock?"

Zoeth did not answer. His partner turned and looked at him. 

"Humph!" he exclaimed. "Why don't you tell me the whole of it whileyou're about it? You're keepin' somethin' back. Out with it! Do YOU knowwhere she's bound?"

Zoeth looked troubled--and guilty. "Why, no, Shadrach, " he faltered, "Idon't know, but--but I kind of suspect. You see, she--she did the samething last night. "

"She DID! And you never said a word?"

"I didn't know what to say. I heard her go and I looked out of thewindow and saw her. She come back about three. I thought sure she'dspeak of it this mornin', but she didn't and--and--But tonight I watchedagain and--Shadrach, she's taken the store keys. Anyhow, they're gonefrom the nail. "

The Captain wiped his forehead. "She's gone to the store, then, " hemuttered. "Jumpin'! That's a relief, anyhow. I was afraid--I didn'tknow--Whew! I don't know WHAT I didn't know! But what on earth has shegone to the store for? And last night too, you say?"

"Yes. Shadrach, I've been thinkin' and all I can think of isthat--that--"

"Well--what?"

"That--that she suspicions how things are with us--somebody that doessuspicion has dropped a hint and she has--has gone up to--"

"To do what? Chuck it overboard! Speak it out! To do what?"

"To look at the books or somethin'. She knows the combination of thesafe, you recollect. "

Captain Shadrach's eyes and mouth opened simultaneously. He made a divefor the hooks on the bedroom wall. 

"Jumpin' fire of brimstone!" he roared. "Give me my clothes!"

A half-hour later an interested person--and, so far as that goes, atleast every second person in South Harniss would have been interestedhad he or she been aware of what was going on--an interested and, ofcourse, unscrupulous person peeping in under the shades of Hamilton andCompany's window would have seen a curious sight. This person would haveseen two elderly men sitting one upon a wooden chair and the otherupon a wooden packing case and wearing guilty, not to say hang-dog, expressions, while a young woman standing in front of them deliveredpointed and personal remarks. 

Captain Shadrach and Zoeth, following their niece to the store, hadpeeped in and seen her sitting at the desk, the safe open, and accountbooks and papers spread out before her. A board in the platform creakedbeneath the Captain's weighty tread and Mary looked up and saw them. Before they could retreat or make up their minds what to do, she hadrun to the door, thrown it open, and ordered them to come in. Neitheranswered--they could not at the moment. The certainty that she knew whatthey had tried so hard to conceal kept them tongue-tied. 

"Come in!" repeated Mary. "Come in! And shut the door!"

They came in. Also Captain Shadrach shut the door. Just why he obeyedorders so meekly he could not have told. His niece gave him little timeto think. 

"I did not exactly expect you, " she said, "but, on the whole, I am gladyou came. Now sit down, both of you, and listen to me. What do you meanby it?"

Zoeth sat, without a word. Shadrach, however, made a feeble attempt tobluster. 

"What do WE mean by it?" he repeated. "What do YOU mean, you mean!Perusin' up here in the middle of the night without a word to your UncleZoeth and me, and--and haulin' open that safe--and--"

Again Mary interrupted. 

"Be still, Uncle Shad!" she commanded. "Sit down! Sit down on that boxand listen to me! That's right. Now tell me! Why have you been tellingme fibs for almost a year? Answer me! Why have you?"

Zoeth looked at Shadrach and the latter looked at him. 

"Fibs?" stammered Mr. Hamilton. "Fibs? Why--why, Mary-'Gusta!"

"Yes, fibs. I might use a stronger word and not exaggerate very much. You have led me to think that business was good, that you were doing aswell or better than when I was here with you. I asked you over and overagain and you invariably gave me that answer. And now I know that duringall that time you have scarcely been able to make ends meet, that youhave been worrying yourselves sick, that you--"

Captain Shad could stand it no longer. 

"We ain't, neither!" he declared. "I never was better in my life. Iain't had a doctor for more'n a year. And then I only had him for theheaves--for the horse--a horse doctor, I mean. What are you talkin'about! Sick nothin'! If that swab of an Isaiah has--"

"Stop, Uncle Shad! I told you to listen. And you needn't try to changethe subject or to pretend I don't know what I am talking about. I doknow. And as for pretending--well, there has been pretending enough. What do you mean--you and Uncle Zoeth--by sending me off to school andto Europe and declaring up and down that you didn't need me here athome?"

"We didn't need you, Mary-'Gusta, " vowed Zoeth eagerly. "We got alongfust-rate without you. And we wanted you to go to school and to Europe. You see, it makes us feel proud to know our girl is gettin' a fineeducation and seein' the world. It ain't any more than she deserves, butit makes us feel awful pleased to know she's gettin' it. "

"And as for the store, " broke in the Captain, "I cal'late you've beenpawin' over them books and they've kind of--kind of gone to your head. I don't wonder at it, this time of night! Hamilton and Company'sall right. We may be a little mite behind in some of our bills, but--er--but. . . . DON'T look at me like that, Mary-'Gusta! What do youdo it for? Stop it, won't you?"

Mary shook her head. 

"No, Uncle Shad, " she said, "I shan't stop it. I know all about Hamiltonand Company's condition; perhaps I know it better than you do. This isthe fifth night that I have been working over those books and I shouldknow, at least. "

"The FIFTH night! Do you mean to say--"

"I mean that I knew you wouldn't tell me what I wanted to know; I had tosee these books for myself and at night was the only time I could do it. But never mind that now, " she added. "We'll talk of that later. Otherthings come first. Uncle Shad and Uncle Zoeth, I know not only about theaffairs of Hamilton and Company, but about my own as well. "

Zoeth leaned forward and stared at her. He seemed to catch thesignificance of the remark, for he looked frightened, whereas Shadrachwas only puzzled. 

"You--you know what, Mary-'Gusta?" faltered Zoeth. "You mean--"

"I mean, " went on Mary, "that I know where the money came from which haspaid my school bills and for my clothes and my traveling things andall the rest. I know whose money has paid all my bills ever since I wasseven years old. "

Shadrach rose from his chair. He was as frightened as his partner now. 

"What are you talkin' about, Mary-'Gusta Lathrop?" he shouted. "Youknow! You don't know nothin'! You stop sayin' such things! Why don't youstop her, Zoeth Hamilton?"

Zoeth was speechless. Mary went on as if there had been no interruption. 

"I know, " she said, "that I haven't a penny of my own and never did haveand that you two have done it all. I know all about it--at last. "

If these two men had been caught stealing they could not have lookedmore guilty. If, instead of being reminded that their niece had spenttheir money, they had been accused of misappropriating hers they couldnot have been more shaken or dumbfounded. Captain Shadrach stood beforeher, his face a fiery red and his mouth opening and shutting in vainattempts at articulation. Zoeth, his thin fingers extended in appeal, was the first to speak. 

"Mary-'Gusta, " he stammered, "don't talk so! PLEASE don't!"

Mary smiled. "Oh, yes, I shall, Uncle Zoeth, " she said. "I mean to domore than talk from now on, but I must talk a little first. I'm notgoing to try to tell you what it means to me to learn after all theseyears that I have been dependent on you for everything I have had, home and luxuries and education and opportunities. I realize now whatsacrifices you must have made--"

"We ain't, neither!" roared the Captain, in frantic protest. "We ain't, I tell you. Somebody's been tellin' lies, ain't they, Zoeth? Why--"

"Hush, Uncle Shad! Someone HAS been telling me--er--fibs--I said thatat the beginning; but they're not going to tell me any more. I knowthe truth, every bit of it, about Father's losing his money in stocksand--Uncle Shad, where are you going?"

Captain Shad was halfway to the door. He answered over his shoulder. 

"I'm goin' home, " he vowed, "and when I get there I'm goin' to chokethat dummed tattle-tale of an Isaiah Chase! I'll talk to YOU after I'vedone it. "

Mary ran after him and caught his arm. 

"Come back, Uncle Shad!" she ordered. "Come back, sit down, and don't befoolish. I don't want you to talk to me! I am going to talk to you, andI'm not half through yet. Besides, it wasn't Isaiah who told me, it wasJudge Baxter. "

"Judge Baxter! Why, the everlastin' old--"

"Hush! He couldn't help telling me, I made him do it. Be still, both ofyou, and I'll tell you all about it. "

She did tell them, beginning with her meeting with Mr. Green at the Howedinner, then of her stop at Ostable and the interview with Baxter. 

"So I have found it all out, you see, " she said. "I'm not going to tryto thank you--I couldn't, if I did try. But I am going to take my turnat the work and the worry. To begin with, of course, you understand thatI am through with Boston and school, through forever. "

There was an excited and voluble protest, of course, but she paid noheed whatever to commands or entreaties. 

"I am through, " she declared. "I shall stay here and help you. I amonly a girl and I can't do much, perhaps, but I truly believe I can dosomething. I am a sort of silent partner now; you understand that, don'tyou?"

Shadrach looked doubtful and anxious. 

"If I had my way, " he declared, "you'd go straight back to that schooland stay there long's we could rake or scrape enough together to keepyou there. And I know Zoeth feels the same. "

"I sartin do, " agreed Zoeth. 

Mary laughed softly. "But you haven't your way, you see, " she said. "Youhave had it for ever so long and now I am going to have mine. Your newsilent partner is going to begin to boss you. "

For the first time since he entered the door of his store that night--ormorning--Shadrach smiled. It wasn't a broad smile nor a very gay one, but it was a smile. 

"Um--ya-as, " he drawled. "I want to know, Mary-'Gusta! I am gettin' somealong in years, but my memory ain't failed much. If I could remember anyday or hour or minute since Zoeth and me h'isted you into the old buggyto drive you from Ostable here--if I could remember a minute of thattime when you HADN'T bossed us, I--well, I'd put it down in the log witha red ink circle around it. No, sir-ee! You've been OUR skipper from thestart. "

Even Zoeth smiled now and Mary laughed aloud. 

"But you haven't objected; you haven't minded being--what shall I callit?--skipped--by me, have you?" she asked. 

The Captain grinned. "Mind it!" he exclaimed. "Umph! The only time whenwe really minded it was these last two years when we ain't had it. Weminded missin' it, that's what we minded. "

"Well, you won't miss it any more. Now help me put these things back inthe safe and we'll go home. Yes, home! Tomorrow morning--this morning, I mean--we'll talk and I'll tell you some of my plans. Oh, yes! Ihave plans and I am in hopes they may do great things for Hamilton andCompany. But no more talk tonight. Remember, the skipper is back onboard!"

So to the house they went and to bed, the Captain and Mr. Hamilton underprotest. 

CHAPTER XX

Neither Mary nor the Captain nor Mr. Hamilton slept much of the fewhours until daylight, and Captain Shadrach, who was devoured withcuriosity concerning the plans, would have asked particulars beforebreakfast, but Mary would not listen to questions. It was not untilbreakfast was over and they were back in the store that she consented todiscuss the subject. 

The safe was reopened and the books and papers spread out upon the desk. Mary took up one of the sheets of paper; it was covered with rows offigures in her handwriting. 

"Now, " she said, "it seems to me that the first thing is to find outexactly where we stand. When I say 'we, '" she added, with a nod of greatimportance, "I mean 'we, ' because, as I told you last night, I am asilent partner in the business now. "

"Don't seem to be so terrible much silence, " observed Shadrach dryly. 

"Hush! Another remark of that kind and I shall set you to sweeping out, Uncle Shad. Now, Uncle Zoeth, according to the books this is what weowe. "

She read from the paper in her hand. 

"That is the total, Uncle Zoeth, isn't it?" she asked. Zoeth groaned andadmitted that he cal'lated it was nigh enough. 

"Yes. But this, " holding up another sheet of paper, "is what is owed us, and it is almost as much as the other. "

It was Shadrach's turn to groan. "'Tis if we could get a-hold of it, "he muttered. "The heft of the gang on that list ain't got a cent and thebulk of the rest of 'em wouldn't have if they paid what they owed. "

Mary nodded determinedly. 

"There are some that can pay, " she said. "Jeremiah Clifford, forinstance. According to the books he owes us over a hundred and tendollars and part of the account is three years old. Mr. Clifford ownsproperty. He can't be a poor man. "

The Captain sniffed. "His wife owns the property, " he said. "Everystick's in her name. Jerry Clifford's got enough, but he loves it toowell to let go of it. Mean! Why, say! In the old days, when fishin'schooners used to run from South Harniss here, Jerry he was owner andskipper of a little hooker and Solon Black went one v'yage with him. There was another fo'mast hand besides Jerry and Solon aboard and Solonswears that all the hearty provision Jerry put on board for a four-daytrip was two sticks of smoked herrin'. For two days, so Solon vows, theyate the herrin' and the other two they chewed the sticks. That may bestretchin' it a mite, but anyhow it goes to show that Jerry Clifforddon't shed money same as a cat does its hair. "

Zoeth put in a word. 

"He says he'll pay pretty soon, " he observed plaintively. "He's beensayin' it for over a year, though. "

"Humph!" grunted Shadrach. "There's only a difference of one letterbetween 'sayin'' and 'payin', ' but there ain't but two between 'trust'and 'bust. '"

Mary spoke. "Never mind, " she said. "I shall see Mr. Cliffordmyself. And I shall see some of these others, too. Now about our ownbills--those we owe. I have a list of the principal creditors. Mr. Green's firm is one of them; we owe them most of all, it seems. I thinkI shall go and see Mr. Green myself. "

"For the land sakes, what for?" demanded Shadrach. "He knows how we'refixed, Zoeth wrote him. "

"Yes, but I want to talk with him, nevertheless. "

"But what for? You ain't goin' beggin' him to--"

"I'm not going begging at all. When I talked with him at the Howes' he, not knowing in the least who I was or that I was your niece, expressedsympathy for Hamilton and Company and wished there were some way ofhelping us out of our trouble--something he could do, you know. I'm notsure there isn't something he can do. At any rate, I am going to seehim. I shall start for Boston Monday morning. "

Zoeth ventured an observation. 

"He'll be considerable surprised to see you, won't he?" he said. 

Mary laughed. "I think he will, " she replied. "Surprised and a littleembarrassed. But I imagine his embarrassment will make him all themore anxious to be of service to me, and that's what I want fromhim--service. "

Of course the partners asked hundreds more questions concerning theplans. Mary's answers were still disappointingly vague. Before she couldtell just what she meant to do, she said she must be sure, and she wasnot sure yet. A great deal would depend upon her Boston trip. They mustbe patient until she returned from that. 

So they were patient--that is to say, Zoeth was really so and CaptainShadrach was as patient as it was his nature to be. Mary was absentnearly a week. When she returned she had much to tell. She hadvisited Mr. Green at his office on Commercial Street. His surpriseand embarrassment were all that she had prophesied. He offered profuseapologies for his blunder at the Howes'. 

"Of course, if I had known of your relationship to Captain Gould andMr. Hamilton, " he began, "I should never--Really, I am--I assure you Ihadn't the slightest idea--"

He was floundering like a stranded fish. Mary helped him off the shoalsby taking the remainder of his apologies for granted. 

"Of course you hadn't, " she said. "But I am very glad you told me, Mr. Green. It was high time I knew. Don't say another word about it, please. I have come to you to ask advice and, perhaps, help of a sort. May Ihave a little of your time?"

Mr. Green seized the opportunity thus offered. Indeed, she might havetime, all the time she wanted. Anything in his power to do--and so on. Being a bachelor and something of an elderly beau who prided himselfupon making a good impression with the sex, it had annoyed him greatly, the memory of his mistake. Also he had been distinctly taken with Maryand was anxious to reinstate himself in her opinion. So his willingnessto atone was even eager. 

"As it happens, " he said, "I am not at all busy this afternoon. I cangive you the rest of the day, if you wish. Now what can I do for you?"

Mary explained that she had come to speak with him concerning heruncles' business affairs, his house being Hamilton and Company's largestcreditor. She told of her investigations, of the condition in whichshe had found the accounts, and of her determination to remain at SouthHarniss and work for the upbuilding of the concern. 

"Of course I am not a business person like yourself, Mr. Green, " shesaid. "I am only a girl. But I worked in my uncles' store and, in away, managed it for two years or more before I came to Boston to school. Beside that I have talked during these last few days with some of SouthHarniss's most prominent people--permanent residents, not summer people. From what they and others tell me I am convinced that the sole reasonwhy my uncles' business has fallen behind is because of a lack ofkeeping up to the times in the face of competition. Everyone likes UncleZoeth and Uncle Shadrach and wishes them well--they couldn't help that, you know. "

She made this assertion with such evident pride and with such absoluteconfidence that Mr. Green, although inclined to smile, felt it mightbe poor judgment to do so. So he agreed that there was no doubt ofShadrach's and Zoeth's universal popularity. 

"Yes, " went on Mary, "they are dears, both of them, and they thinkeveryone else is as honest as they are, which is a mistake, of course. So some people impose on them and don't pay their bills. I intend tostop that. "

She evidently expected her listener to make some comment, so he said, "Oh, indeed!"

"Yes, " continued Mary. "I intend to stop their trusting everyone underthe sun and I shall try my hardest to collect from those they havealready trusted. There is almost enough due to pay every bill we owe, and I believe two-thirds of that is collectible if one really goes afterit. "

"And you will go after it, I presume?"

"I most certainly shall. You are smiling, Mr. Green. I suppose it soundslike a joke, a girl like myself making such statements about things menare supposed to understand and women not to understand at all. It isn'ta joke in this case, because I think I understand my uncles businessbetter than they do. I think I can collect what is owed us, pay what weowe, and make money there in South Harniss. But to do that I must havetime and, by and by, credit, for we need goods. And that is what I cameto talk to you about. "

She had brought with her copies of the Hamilton and Company trialbalance, also a list of the firm's debtors and creditors. These sheput upon the desk before Mr. Green and ran a finger down the pageswith explanatory remarks such as, "This is good, I know, " "This can becollected but it may take a lawyer to get it, " or, as in the case of'Rastus Young's long-standing indebtedness, "This isn't worth anythingand shouldn't be counted. "

"You see, " she said, in conclusion, "we aren't in such a VERY bad state;it isn't hopeless, anyway. Now here are the accounts we owe. Yours isthe largest. Here are the others. All these bills are going to be paid, just as I said, but they can't be paid at all unless I have time. I havebeen thinking, thinking very hard, Mr. Green--"

Green nodded. "I can see that, " he put in, good-naturedly. 

"Yes. Well, this is what I want to ask you: Will you give us six monthsmore to pay the whole of this bill in? I don't think we shall need somuch time, but I want to be sure. And if at the end of two months wehave paid half of it, will you give us credit for another small bill ofgoods for the summer season, so that we may be stocked and ready? Thesummer is our best season, you see, " she added. 

Mr. Green nodded. Her businesslike manner he found amusing, although heby no means shared her confidence in the future. 

"We shall be very glad to extend the time, " he said. "You may rememberI told you the other evening that so far as our house was concerned, we should probably be willing to sell your uncles indefinitely, for oldtimes' sake. "

His visitor frowned. 

"We are not asking it for old times' sake, " she said. "It is the newtimes I am interested in. And please understand this isn't sentiment butbusiness. If you do not believe what I ask to be a safe business risk, that one your firm would be justified in accepting from anybody, thenyou mustn't do it. "

Mr. Green hesitated. "Suppose I do not accept that risk, " he said; "whatthen?"

"Then I shall go and see some other creditors, the principal ones, andmake them similar propositions. "

"And suppose they don't accept?"

"I think they will, most of them. If they don't--well, then thereis another way. My uncles own their house and store. They have beenthinking of selling their property to pay their debts. I should hate tohave them sell, and I don't believe it is necessary. I have beentalking with Judge Baxter over at Ostable--I stopped there on my way toBoston--and he suggested that they might mortgage and raise money thatway. It could be done, couldn't it? Mortgages are a kind of business Idon't know anything about. They sound horrid. "

"Sometimes they are. Miss Lathrop, if I were you I shouldn't sell ormortgage yet. I am inclined to believe, judging by this balance sheetand what you say, that you have a chance to pull Hamilton and Companyout of the fire, and I'm very sure you can do it if anyone can. Are yougoing to be in the city for a day or two? Good! Then will you let meconsider this whole matter until--say--Thursday? By that time I shallhave made up my mind and may have something to say which will be worthwhile. Can you come in Thursday afternoon at two? And will you? Verywell. Oh, don't thank me! I haven't done anything yet. Perhaps I shallnot be able to, but we shall hope for the best. "

Mary went straight to Mrs. Wyeth's home on Pinckney Street and oncemore occupied her pleasant room on the third floor. In spite of herdetermination not to care she could not help feeling a little pang asshe walked by the Misses Cabot's school and remembered that she wouldnever again enjoy the privileges and advantages of that exclusiveinstitution. She wondered how the girls, her classmates, had felt andspoken when they heard the news that she had left them and returnedto Cape Cod and storekeeping. Some would sneer and laugh--she knewthat--and some might be a little sorry. But they would all forget her, of course. Doubtless, most of them had forgotten her already. 

But the fact that all had not forgotten was proved that very eveningwhen, as she and Mrs. Wyeth and Miss Pease were sitting talking togetherin the parlor, Maggie, the maid, answering the ring of the doorbell, ushered in Miss Barbara Howe. Barbara was, as usual, arrayed like thelilies of the field, but her fine petals were decidedly crumpled by thehug which she gave Mary as soon as she laid eyes upon her. 

"You bad girl!" she cried. "Why didn't you tell me you were in town? Andwhy didn't you answer my letter--the one I wrote you at South Harniss? Ididn't hear a word and only tonight, after dinner, I had the inspirationof phoning Mrs. Wyeth and trying to learn from her where you were andwhat you meant by dropping all your friends. Maggie answered the phoneand said you were here and I threw on my things--yes, 'threw' is theword; nothing else describes the process--and came straight over. How DOyou do? And WHAT are you doing?"

Mary said she was well and that she had been too busy to reply to MissHowe's letter. But this did not satisfy. Barbara wanted to know why shehad been busy and how, so Mary told of her determination to remain inSouth Harniss and become a business woman, Barbara was greatly excitedand enthusiastic. 

"Won't it be perfectly splendid!" she exclaimed. "I only wish I weregoing to do it instead of having to stay at that straight-up-and-downschool and listen to Prissy's dissertations on Emerson. She told theFreshman class the other day that she had had the honor of meeting Mr. Emerson when very young--when SHE was young, she meant; she always tellsevery Freshman class that, you know--and one of the Freshies spoke upand asked if she ever met him afterwards when he was older. They saidher face was a picture; I wish I might have seen it. But do tell me moreabout that wonderful store of yours. I am sure it will be a darling, because anything you have anything to do with is sure to be. Are yougoing to have a tea-room?"

Mary shook her head. "No, " she said, laughing. "I think not. There's toomuch competition. "

"Oh, but you ought to have one. Not of the ordinary kind, you know, but the--the other kind, the unusual kind. Why, I have a cousin--asecond--no, third cousin, a relative of Daddy's, she is--who hadn't muchmoney and whose health wasn't good and the doctor sent her to live inthe country. Live there all the time! Only fancy! Oh, I forgot you weregoing to do the same thing. Do forgive me! I'm so sorry! WHAT a perfectgump I am! Oh, dear me! There I go again! And I know you abhor slang, Mrs. Wyeth. "

"Tell me more about your cousin, Barbara, " put in Mary, before theshocked Mrs. Wyeth could reply. 

"Oh, she went to the country and took an old house, the funniest oldthing you ever saw. And she put up the quaintest little sign! And openeda tea-room and gift shop. I don't know why they call them 'gift shops. 'They certainly don't give away anything. Far, far from that, my dear!Daddy calls this one of Esther's 'The Robbers' Roost' because he saysshe charges forty cents for a gill of tea and two slices of toast cutin eight pieces. But I tell him he doesn't pay for the tea and toastalone--it is the atmosphere of the place. He says if he had to pay forall his atmosphere at that rate he would be asphyxiated in a few months. But he admires Esther very much. She makes heaps and heaps of money. "

"Then her tea-room and gift shop is a success?"

"A success! Oh, my dear! It's a scream of a success! Almost any day insummer there are at least a dozen motor cars outside the door. Everybodygoes there; it's the proper thing to do. I know all this because itisn't very far from our summer home in Clayton--in the mountains, youknow. "

"So she made a success, " mused Mary. "Were there other tea-rooms about?"

"Oh, dozens! But they're not original; hers is. They haven't the--thesomething--you know what I mean, Esther has the style, the knack, the--Ican't say it, but you know. And you would have it, too; I'm perfectlysure you would. "

Mary was evidently much interested. 

"I wish I might meet your cousin, " she said. 

"Why, you can. She is here in Boston now, buying for the summer. I'llphone her and we three will lunch together tomorrow. Don't say youwon't; you've just got to. "

So Mary, rather reluctantly, consented to make one of the luncheonparty. Afterward she was glad that she did, for Miss EstherHemingway--this was the cousin's name--was an interesting person. Shetold Mary all about her tea-room and gift shop, how she started inbusiness, the mistakes she made at first, and the lessons she hadlearned from experience. Because Barbara had asked her to do so shebrought with her photographs of the establishment, its attractive andquaint exterior and its equally delightful interior. 

"The whole secret, " she said, "is in keeping everything in good tasteand simple. Choose the right location, fit up your rooms in taste andcheerfully, serve the best you can find, and sell the unusual and theattractive things that other people do not have, or at least are notlikely to have. Then charge adequate prices. "

"Adequate being spelled A double D, " observed Barbara significantly. 

Mary parted from Miss Hemingway with a new idea in her head, an ideathat sometime or other she meant to put into practice. 

On Thursday afternoon she called upon Mr. Green. That gentleman, havinghad his opportunity to think, was ready with a proposition. Briefly itwas this: He had personally seen the principal creditors of Hamiltonand Company--they were all Boston business houses--and he and they hadagreed to make the following offer: Hamilton and Company's credit upondebts already owed was to be extended six months. Mary was to go home, endeavor to collect what money she could, and with it buy for cashwhatever goods were needed for the summer season. If that season was asuccess and the business promised well for the future, then arrangementscould be made for future buying and for paying the old debt a little ata time. 

"At any rate, " concluded Mr. Green, "this postpones the mortgaging orselling for a time at least, and you always have it to fall back on ifyou can't make your new undertaking pay. I believe you can. I advise youto accept. Your other creditors feel the same way. "

He did not add, as he might have done, that the opinion of those othercreditors had been influenced almost entirely by his own and that inone or two instances he had been obliged practically to underwrite thepayment of Hamilton and Company's indebtedness before gaining consent. He had talked with Mr. Howe, who in turn had called his daughter intoconsultation, and Barbara's enthusiastic praise of her friend hadstrengthened the favorable impression which the girl had already madeupon both gentlemen. "Do you know, I believe she may win out, " observedMr. Howe. 

"I am inclined to think she will, " concurred Green. 

"Of course she will!" declared Barbara hotly. "No one who ever knew herwould be silly enough to think she wouldn't. "

Hence Mr. Green's underwriting expedition and the proposition to Mary asthe representative of Hamilton and Company. 

Mary accepted, of course. She was very grateful and said so. 

"I don't know how to thank you, Mr. Green. I can't promise anything, butif trying hard will win, I can promise that, " she said. 

"That's all right, that's all right. I know you'll try, and I thinkyou'll succeed. Now, why don't you go up and pick out some of thosesummer goods? You don't need them yet, and you needn't pay for them yet, but now is the time to select. Give my regards to your uncles when yousee them and tell them I wish them luck. I may be motoring down the Capethis summer and if I do I shall drop in on you and them. "

Mary had news to tell when she reached South Harniss. It was listenedto with attention, if not entirely in silence. Captain Shadrach'sejaculations of "You don't say!" "I want to know!" and "Jumpin' fire, how you talk!" served as punctuation marks during the narration. Whenshe had finished her story, she said:

"And now, Uncle Zoeth and Uncle Shad--now that you've heard the whole ofit, and know what my plan is, what do you think of it?"

Both answers were characteristic. Zoeth drew a long breath. 

"The Almighty sent you to us, Mary-'Gusta, " he vowed. "There was a timea little spell ago when I begun to think He'd pretty nigh deserted us. Iwas almost discouraged and it shook my trust--it shook my trust. But nowI can see He was just tryin' us out and in His good time He sent you tohaul us off the shoals. He'll do it, too; I know it and I'll thank Himtonight on my knees. "

Shadrach shook his head. "By fire!" he cried. "Mary-'Gusta, I alwayssaid you was a wonder. You've given us a chance to get clear of thebreakers, anyhow, and that's somethin' we'd never have done ourselves. Now, if you can collect that money from Jeremiah Clifford I'll--I'll--Iswan to man I'll believe anything's possible, even Jonah's swallowin'the whale. "

"Oh, Shadrach!" protested his partner. "If you wouldn't be soirreverent!"

"All right, I'll behave. But it's just as I say: if Mary-'Gusta can getJerry Clifford to pay up I'll swallow Jonah and the whale, too. 'TwasMoses that hit the rock and the water gushed out, wa'n't it? Um--hm!Well, that was somethin' of a miracle, but strikin' Jerry Clifford forten cents and gettin' it would be a bigger one. Why, that feller's gotfists like--like one of those sensitive plants my mother used to havein the settin'-room window when I was a boy. You touch a leaf of oneof those plants and 'twould shrivel up tight. Jerry's fists are thatway--touch one of 'em with a nickel and 'twill shut up, but not untilthe nickel's inside. No, sir! Ho, ho!"

"If you knew all this, Uncle Shad, " suggested Mary, "why in the worlddid you sell Mr. Clifford at all? If he wouldn't pay, why sell him?"

Mr. Hamilton answered. 

"He always did pay, " he said. "You see, he had to have groceries andclothes and such and whenever he needed more and thought he owed us somuch we wouldn't put more on the bill he'd pay a little on account. Thatway we managed to keep up with him. "

"Not exactly up with him, " commented the Captain. "We was always acouple of laps astern, but we could keep him in sight. Now the newstores have come and he can get trusted there he don't buy from us--orpay, either. What's the use? That's what he thinks, I cal'late. "

Mary considered. "The mean old sinner!" she said. "I should judge, UncleShad, that what you told me once, when I was a little girl, about theFree Masons might apply to Mr. Clifford's pocketbook. You said that oncein Masonry a man never got out. A dollar in Mr. Clifford's pocketbooknever gets out, either, does it?"

Shadrach chuckled. "You bet it don't!" he agreed. "It's got a lifesentence. And, so fur as that goes, they generally open a Mason lodgemeetin' with prayer, but 'twould take more'n that to open Jerry'spocketbook, I'LL bet you!"

"And, nevertheless, " declared Mary, laughing, "I mean to make him payour bill. "

She did make the tight-fisted one pay up eventually, but months were toelapse before that desirable consummation was reached. In the meantimeshe set herself to collecting other amounts owed Hamilton and Companyand to building up the trade at the store. The collecting was not sodifficult as she had expected. The Captain and Mr. Hamilton had beenreluctant to ask their friends and neighbors to be prompt in theirpayments, and largely through carelessness accounts had been permittedto drop behind. Mary personally saw the debtors and in most cases, byoffering slight discounts or by accepting installments, she was ableto obtain at least the greater part of the money due. In some cases shecould obtain nothing and expected nothing, but these cases, among themthat of 'Rastus Young, were rather to be considered in the light of goodriddance even at the price. As Shadrach said, it was worth a few dollarsnot to have to listen to 'Rastus or Mrs. 'Rastus cry over their troubleswhenever they wanted to hold up the firm for more plunder. 

"Last time 'Rastus was in to buy anything, " declared the Captain, "heshed so blamed many tears into my rubber boots that I got wet feet andsent the boots to the cobbler's to have 'em plugged. I cal'lated theyleaked; I didn't realize 'twas Rat workin' me out of four dollars worthof groceries by water power. "

The collections, then, those from Mr. Young and his ilk excepted, weresatisfactory. Mary was enabled to buy and pay for a modest assortment ofsummer supplies, those she had selected while in Boston. The store shehad thoroughly cleaned and renovated. The windows were kept filled withattractive displays of goods, and the prices of these goods, as setforth upon tickets, were attractive also. Business began to pick up, nota great deal at first, but a little, and as May brought the first ofthe early-bird summer cottagers to South Harniss, the silent partnerof Hamilton and Company awaited the coming of what should be the firm'sbusiest season with hope and some confidence. 

CHAPTER XXI

During all this time she had heard from Crawford at least once a week. He would have written oftener than that, had she permitted it. And inspite of her determination so bravely expressed in their interview overthe telephone, she had written him more than the one letter she hadpromised. In that letter--her first--she told him the exact situationthere at home; of her discovery that her uncles were in trouble, thatthe small, but to them precious, business they had conducted so longwas in danger, and of her determination to give up school and remain atSouth Harniss where, she knew, she was needed. Then she went on to tellof her still greater discovery, that instead of being a young woman ofindependent means, she was and always had been dependent upon the bountyof her uncles. 

You can imagine how I felt when I learned this [she wrote], when Ithought of all the kindness I had accepted at their hands, accepted italmost as if it was my right, thinking as I did that my own money paid. And now to learn that all the time I had nothing and they had givenof their own when they had so little, and given it so cheerfully, sogladly. And, Crawford, when I told them what I had done, they would notaccept thanks, they would not let me even speak of the great debt I owedthem. So far from that they acted as if they were the ones who owed andas if I had caught them in some disgraceful act. Why, if they could, they would have sent me back to Boston and to school, while theyremained here to work and worry until the bankruptcy they expected came. 

Do you wonder that I feel my first and whole duty is to them and thatnothing, NOTHING must be permitted to interfere with it? I am going tostay here and try to help. Perhaps I shall succeed, and perhaps, whichis just as probable, I may fail; but at any rate while my uncles liveand need me I shall not leave them. They gave all they had to me whenthere was no real reason why they should give anything. The very leastI can do is to be with them and work for them now when they are growingold. 

I am sure you must understand this and that, therefore, you willforget--

She paused. "Forget" was a hard word to write. Fortunately she hadwritten it at the top of a page, so she tore up that sheet and began theline again. 

I am sure you will understand and that you will see my duty as I see itmyself. It seems to me clear. Everyone has duties, I suppose, but youand I have ours very plainly shown us, I think. Yours is to your fatherand mine to my uncles. 

Bringing that letter to an end was a difficult task. There were thingswhich must be said and they were so very hard to say. At last, aftermany attempts:

I have not referred [she wrote] to what you said to me when we last met. It seems almost useless to refer to it, doesn't it? You see how Iam placed here, and I have written you what I mean to do. And pleaseunderstand I am doing it gladly, I am happy in having the opportunity todo it; but it does mean that for years my life and interest must be herewith them. Even if I were sure of my own feelings--and perhaps I am notreally sure--I certainly should not think of asking one I cared for towait so long. You have your future to think of, Crawford, and you mustthink of it. And there is your father. Of course, I don't know, but Isomehow feel certain that he will not wish you to marry me. Don't youthink it better for us both to end it now? It seems so hopeless. 

Which, she flattered herself, was brave and sensible and right. And, having reached this commendable conclusion and sealed and posted theletter, she came back to the house, went upstairs to her room, and, throwing herself upon the bed, cried bitterly for many minutes. 

Yet, in a way, her tears were wasted. It takes two to make a bargain andalthough she might notify Crawford Smith that his case was hopeless, it by no means followed that that young gentleman would acceptthe notification as final. His reply to her letter was prompt andconvincing. All the references to ending it were calmly brushed aside. There could be but two endings, one being their marriage--this, ofcourse, the logical and proper ending--and the other Mary's notifyinghim that she did not love him. Anything else was nonsense and not worthconsideration. Wait! He would wait fifty years if necessary, providedshe would wait for him. He was about to take up his studies again, butnow he would feel that he was working for her. His father, he was sorryto say, was not at all well. He was very nervous, weak and irritable. 

I came home [he wrote] fully determined to tell him of you and mydetermination to marry you--always provided you will have me, youknow--on the very night of my arrival. But when I saw how poor old Dadwas feeling and after the doctor told me how very necessary it was thathis nervous system be allowed a complete rest, I decided I must wait. SoI shall wait; perhaps I shall not tell him for months; but just as soonas he is able to hear, I shall speak, and I am sure he will say, "Good luck and God bless you. " But if he doesn't, it will make not theslightest difference. If you will have me, Mary dear, nothing on thisearth is going to stop my having you. That's as settled and solid a factas the Rocky Mountains. 

He pleaded for a letter at least once a week. 

You needn't put a word of love in it [he wrote]. I know howconscientious you are, and I know perfectly well that until your mindis made up you won't feel it right to encourage me in the least. But doplease write, if only to tell me how you are getting on with Hamiltonand Company. I only wish I were there to help you pull those fine olduncles of yours out of the hot water. I know you'll do it, though. Andmeanwhile I shall be digging away out here and thinking of you. Pleasewrite OFTEN. 

So Mary, after considerable thought and indecision, did write, althoughCrawford's suggestion that her letters have no word of love in themwas scrupulously followed. And so, while the summer came and went, theletters crossed and the news of the slow but certain building up of thebusiness of Hamilton and Company was exchanged for that of Edwin Smith'ssteady regaining of health and strength. 

And Hamilton and Company's business was reviving. Even the skepticscould see the signs. The revival began before the summer residentsarrived in South Harniss, but after the latter began to come and thecottages to open, it was on in earnest. John Keith helped to give it itsfirst big start. Mrs. Wyeth wrote him of Mary's leaving her school workto go to the rescue of Shadrach and Zoeth, and the girl's pluck anduncomplaining acceptance of the task she considered set for her madeKeith's eyes twinkle with admiration as he read the letter. The familycame early to South Harniss and this year he came with them. One of hisfirst acts after arrival was to stroll down to the village and enterHamilton and Company's store. Mary and the partners were there, ofcourse. He shook hands with them cordially. 

"Well, Captain, " he said, addressing Shadrach, "how is the new handtaking hold?"

Shadrach grinned. "Hand?" he repeated. "I don't know's we've got any newhand, Mr. Keith. Ain't, have we, Zoeth?"

Zoeth did not recognize the joke. "He means Mary-'Gusta, I cal'late, Shadrach, " he said. "She's doin' splendid, Mr. Keith. I don't know howwe ever got along without her. "

"I do, " put in his partner promptly; "we didn't, that's how. But, Mr. Keith, you hadn't ought to call Mary-'Gusta a 'hand. ' Zoeth and me arethe hands aboard this craft. She's skipper, and engineer, and purser, and--yes, and pilot, too. And don't she make us tumble up lively whenshe whistles! Whew! Don't talk!"

"She is the boss, then, is she?" observed Keith. 

"Boss! I guess SO! She's got US trained! Why, I've got so that I jumpout of bed nights and run round the room in my sleep thinkin' she'sjust hollered to me there's a customer waitin'. Oh, she's a hard driver, Mary-'Gusta is. Never had a fust mate aboard drove harder'n she does. And it's havin' its effect on us, too. Look at Zoeth! He's agin' fast;he's a year older'n he was twelve months ago. "

Keith laughed, Mary smiled, and Mr. Hamilton, judging by the behavior ofthe company that there was a joke somewhere on the premises, smiled too. 

"You mustn't mind Uncle Shad, Mr. Keith, " said Mary. "He talks a greatdeal. "

"Talkin's all the exercise my face gets nowadays, " declared the Captaininstantly. "She keeps me so busy I don't get time to eat. What do youthink of the store, Mr. Keith? Some improvement, ain't it?"

Keith, who had already noticed the trim appearance of the store and theneat and attractive way in which the goods were displayed, expressed hishearty approval. 

"And how is business?" he asked. 

"Tiptop!" declared Shadrach. 

"It's improvin' consider'ble, " said Zoeth. 

"It is a little better, but it must be far better before I amsatisfied, " said Mary. 

"How is the cottage trade?" asked Keith. 

"Why, not so very good. There aren't many cottagers here yet. "

When Keith reached home he called his wife into consultation. 

"Gertrude, " he asked, "where do we buy our household supplies, groceriesand the like?"

"In Boston, most of them. The others--those I am obliged to buy here inSouth Harniss--at that new store, Baker's. "

"I want you to buy them all of Hamilton and Company hereafter. "

"THAT old-fogy place! Why?"

"Because the partners, Captain Gould and the other old chap, are havinga hard struggle to keep going and I want to help them. "

Mrs. Keith tossed her head. "Humph!" she sniffed. "I know why you areso interested. It is because of that upstart girl you think is sowonderful, the one who has been boarding with Clara Wyeth. "

"You're right, that's just it. She has given up her studies and heropportunities there in Boston and has come down here to help her uncles. Clara writes me that she was popular there in the school, that thebest people were her friends, and you know of her summer in Europe withLetitia Pease. Letitia isn't easy to please and she is enthusiasticabout Mary Lathrop. No ordinary girl could give up all that sort ofthing and come back to the village where everyone knows her and go tokeeping store again, and do it so cheerfully and sensibly and withouta word of complaint. She deserves all the help and support we and ourfriends can give her. I mean to see that she has it. "

Mrs. Keith looked disgusted. "You're perfectly infatuated with thatgirl, John Keith, " she said. "It is ridiculous. If I were like somewomen I should be jealous. "

"If I were like some men you might be. Now, Gertrude, you'll buy infuture from Hamilton and Company, won't you?"

"I suppose so. When your chin sets that way I know you're going to bestubborn and I may as well give in first as last. I'll patronize yourprecious Mary-'Gusta, but I WON'T associate with her. You needn't askthat. "

"Don't you think we might wait until she asks it first?"

"Tut! tut! Really, John, you disgust me. I wonder you don't order Sam tomarry her. "

"From what Clara writes he might not have needed any orders if he hadreceived the least encouragement from her. Sam might do worse; I imaginehe probably will. "

So, because John Keith's chin was set, the Keith custom shiftedto Hamilton and Company. And because the Keiths were wealthy andinfluential, and because the head of the family saw that that influencewas brought to bear upon his neighbors and acquaintances, their customfollowed. Hamilton and Company put a delivery wagon--a secondhandone--out on the road, and hired a distinctly secondhand boy to drive it. And Mary and Shadrach and Zoeth and, in the evenings, the boy as well, were kept busy waiting on customers. The books showed, since the silentpartner took hold, a real and tangible profit, and the collection andpayment of old debts went steadily on. 

The partners, Shadrach and Zoeth, were no longer silent and glum. TheCaptain whistled and sang and was in high spirits most of the time. Athome he was his old self, chaffing Isaiah about the housekeeping, takinga mischievous delight in shocking his friend and partner by irreverentremarks concerning Jonah or some other Old Testament personage, andoccasionally, although not often, throwing out a sly hint to Mary aboutthe frequency of letters from the West. Mary had told her unclesof Crawford's leaving Boston and returning to Nevada because of hisfather's ill health. The only item of importance she had omitted to tellwas that of the proposal of marriage. She could not speak of that evento them. They would ask what her answer was to be, and if she lovedCrawford. How could she answer that--truthfully--without causing them tofeel that they were blocking her way to happiness? They felt that quitekeenly enough, as it was. 

So when Captain Shad declared the illness of the South Harnisspostmaster--confined to his bed with sciatica--to be due to his having"stooped to pick up one of them eighty-two page Wild West letters ofyours, Mary-'Gusta, and 'twas so heavy he sprained his back liftin'it, " Mary only laughed and ventured the opinion that the postmaster'ssprained back, if he had one, was more likely due to a twist receivedin trying to read both sides of a postcard at once. Which explanation, being of the Captain's own brand of humor, pleased the latter immensely. 

"Maybe you're right, Mary-'Gusta, " he chuckled. "Maybe that's what'twas. Seth [the postmaster] is pure rubber so far as other folks' mailis concerned; maybe he stretched the rubber too far this time and itsnapped. "

Zoeth did not joke much--joking was not in his line--but he showedhis relief at the improvement in the firm's affairs in quieter but asunmistakable ways. When Mary was at the desk in the evenings after thestore had closed, busy with the books, he would come and sit beside her, saying little but occasionally laying his hand gently on her shoulderor patting her arm and regarding her with a look so brimful of love andgratitude that it made her feel almost guilty and entirely unworthy. 

"Don't, Uncle Zoeth, " she protested, on one such occasion. "Don't lookat me like that. I--I--Really, you make me feel ashamed. I haven't doneanything. I am not doing half enough. "

He shook his head. 

"You're doin' too much, I'm afraid, Mary-'Gusta, " he said. "You'regivin' up everything a girl like you had ought to have and that yourUncle Shadrach and I had meant you should have. You're givin' it up justfor us and it ain't right. We ain't worthy of it. "

"Hush, hush, Uncle Zoeth! Please! When I think what you have given upfor me--"

"'Twa'n't nothin', Mary-'Gusta. You came to your Uncle Shadrach and tome just when we needed somethin' to keep our lives sweet. Mine especialwas bitter and there was danger 'twould always be so. And then webrought you over from Ostable in the old buggy and--and the Almighty'ssunshine came with you. You was His angel. Yes, sir! His angel, that'swhat you was, only we didn't know it then. I was pretty sore and bitterin those days, thought I never could forget. And yet--and yet, now Ireally am forgettin'--or, if I don't forget, I'm more reconciled. Andyou've done it for me, Mary-'Gusta. "

Mary was puzzled. "Forget what?" she asked. "Do you mean the businesstroubles, Uncle Zoeth?"

Zoeth seemed to waken from a sort of dream. "Business troubles?"he repeated. "No, no; long, long afore that these troubles were, Mary-'Gusta. Don't let's talk about 'em. I can't talk about 'em evennow--and I mustn't think. There are some troubles that--that--" Hecaught his breath and his tone changed. "I called you an angel just now, dearie, " he went on. "Well, you was and you are. There are angels inthis world--but there's devils, too--there's devils, too. There; theLord forgive me! What am I talkin' about? We'll forget what's gone andbe thankful for what's here. Give your old uncle a kiss, Mary-'Gusta. "

He was happy in Mary's society and happy in the steady improvement ofthe business, but the girl and Captain Shadrach were a little worriedconcerning his general health. For years he had not been a very strongor active man, but now he looked paler and more frail than ever. Hewalked to and from the store and house several times a day, but heretired almost as soon as he entered the house at night and his appetitewas not good. 

"His nerves ain't back where they'd ought to be, " declared Shadrach. "Hewas awful shook up when it looked as if Hamilton and Company was goin'to founder. He didn't keep blowin' off steam about it the way I did--mysafety-valve's always open--but he kept it all inside his biler and it'sput his engine out of gear. He'll get along all right so long's it'ssmooth sailin', but what I'm afraid of is a rock showin' up in thechannel unexpected. The doctor told me that Zoeth mustn't worry any moreand he mustn't work too hard. More'n all, he mustn't have any scares orshocks or anything like that. "

"We must try to see that he doesn't have any, " said Mary. 

"Sartin sure we must, but you can't always see those things in time tohead 'em off. Now take my own case. I had a shock this mornin'. 'RastusYoung paid me a dollar on account. "

"WHAT? 'Rastus Young PAID you?"

"Well, I don't know's he paid it, exactly. He borrowed the dollar ofone of those summer fellers over at Cahoon's boardin' house and he wastellin' Ab Bacheldor about it at the corner by the post-office. Ab, naturally, didn't believe any sane man would lend Rastus anything, so hewanted proof. 'Rastus hauled the dollar out of his pocket to show, and Iwho happened to be standin' behind 'em without their knowin' it reachedout and grabbed it. "

"You did? Why, Uncle Shad!"

"Yes. I told 'Rastus I'd credit his account with it, but I don't know'sI hadn't ought to give it back to the summer feller. Anyhow, gettin' itwas a shock, same as I said at the beginnin'. 'Rastus says he's goin' tosue me. I told him I'd have sued HIM long ago if I'd supposed he couldSTEAL a dollar, let alone borrow one. "

CHAPTER XXII

It was late in August when Mary received the letter from Crawford inwhich he told of his determination to wait no longer but to tell hisfather of his love for her. Edwin Smith was much better. By way ofproof, his son inclosed a photograph which he had taken of his fathersitting beneath a tree on the lawn of their home. The picture showed Mr. Smith without his beard, which had been shaved off during his illness. Either this or the illness itself had changed him a great deal. Helooked thinner and, which was odd under the circumstances, younger. Mary, looking at this photograph, felt more than ever the impossibleconviction that somewhere or other at some time in her life she musthave met Mr. Edwin Smith. 

So, in my next letter [wrote Crawford], I shall have news to tell. AndI am sure it will be good news. "Ask your father first, " you said. Ofcourse you remember that, and I have remembered it every moment since. Now I am going to ask him. After that you will give me your answer, won't you? And it can't be anything but yes, because I won't let it be. 

What Mary's feelings were when she received this letter, whether or notshe slept as soundly that night and other nights immediately following, whether or not the sight of Isaiah returning from the post-office atmail times caused her breath to come a little quicker and her nervesto thrill--these are questions the answers to which must be guessed. Suffice it to say that she manifested no marked symptoms of impatienceand anxiety during that week and when at last Isaiah handed her anotherletter postmarked Carson City the trembling of the hand which receivedit was so slight as to be unnoticed by Mr. Chase. 

She put aside the letter until that night when she was alone in herroom. Then she opened it and read what Crawford had written. His fatherhad not only refused consent to his son's contemplated marriage but hadmanifested such extraordinary agitation and such savage and unreasonableobstinacy that Crawford was almost inclined to believe his parent'srecent illness had affected his mind. 

That is the only explanation I can think of [he wrote]. It seems as ifhe must be insane. And yet he seemed rational enough at the beginningof our first interview and during most of the second. Even when Ihad broken the news that there was a girl in whom I felt an especialinterest he did not show any sign of the outbreak that came afterward. It wasn't until I began to tell how I first met you there at SouthHarniss, who you were, and about Captain Gould and Mr. Hamilton, that Inoticed he was acting queerly. I was head over heels in my story, tryingto make plain how desperate my case was and doing my best to make himappreciate how tremendously lucky his son was to have even a glimmer ofa chance to get a girl like you for a wife, when I heard him make an oddnoise in his throat. I looked up--I don't know where I had been lookingbefore--certainly not at him--and there he was, leaning back in hischair, his face as white as his collar, and waving a hand at me. Ithought he was choking, or was desperately ill or something, and Isprang toward him, but he waved me back. "Stop! Wait!" he said, orstammered, or choked; it was more like a croak than a human voice. "Don't come here! Let me be! What are you trying to tell me? Who--whois this girl?" I asked him what was the matter--his manner and his lookfrightened me--but he wouldn't answer, kept ordering me to tell himagain who you were. So I did tell him that you were the daughter ofthe Reverend Charles Lathrop and Augusta Lathrop, and of your mother'ssecond marriage to Captain Marcellus Hall. "But he died when she wasseven years old, " I went on, "and since that time she has been livingwith her guardians, the two fine old fellows who adopted her, CaptainShadrach Gould and Zoeth Hamilton. They live at South Harniss onCape Cod. " I had gotten no further than this when he interrupted me. "She--she has been living with Zoeth Hamilton?" he cried. "With ZoethHamilton! Oh, my God! Did--did Zoeth Hamilton send you to me?" Yes, thatis exactly what he said: "Did Zoeth Hamilton send you to me?" I staredat him. "Why, no, Dad, " I said, as soon as I could say anything. "Ofcourse he didn't. I have met Mr. Hamilton but once in my life. WhatIS the matter? Sit down again. Don't you think I had better call thedoctor?" I thought surely his brain was going. But no, he wouldn'tanswer or listen. Instead he looked at me with the wildest, craziestexpression and said: "Did Zoeth Hamilton tell you?" "He told me nothing, Dad, " I said, as gently as I could. "Of course he didn't. I am almost astranger to him. Besides, what in the world was there to tell? I cameto you because I had something to tell. I mean to marry Mary Lathrop, if she will have me--" I got no further than that. "No!" he fairlyscreamed. "No! No! No! Oh, my God, no!" And then the doctor came runningin, we got Dad to bed, and it was all over for that day, except that Inaturally was tremendously upset and conscience-stricken. I could seethat the doctor thought I was to blame, that I had confessed somethingor other--something criminal, I imagine he surmised--to Dad and that ithad knocked the poor old chap over. And I couldn't explain, because whatI had told him was not for outsiders to hear. 

Well, after a terribly anxious night and a worrisome forenoon the doctortold me that father was himself again and wanted to see me at once. "I've said all I can against it, " said the doctor. "I don't know whatsort of rumpus you two had yesterday, but it came dangerously near beingthe finish for him. And it must not be repeated; I'm making that asemphatic as I can. " I assured him that so far as I was concerned therewould not be a scene, and then went in to Dad's room. He looked whiteenough and sick enough but he was rational and his mind was keen andclear. He got me to tell the whole story about you all over again andhe asked a lot of questions; in fact, he cross-examined me prettythoroughly. When I had finished his tone was calm, but I noticed thathis hand was shaking and he seemed to be holding himself in. "And so youthink you want to marry this down-east country girl, do you?" he said. "I certainly do, " said I. He laughed, a forced laugh--didn't sound likehis at all--and he said: "Well, my boy, you'll get over it. It's a wholelot better to get over it now than to do so by and by when it's toolate. It's a good thing I called you home when I did. You stay here andkeep on with your studies and I'll keep on getting into shape again. Bynext summer, when we go on our fishing trip, you'll have forgotten allabout your Down-Easter. " Well, THAT was a staggerer, coming from him. Itdidn't sound like him at all, and again I had that feeling that hismind was going. You see, Mary, I never asked Dad for anything I didn'tget--never. Now, I wasn't asking, I was just telling him what I had madeup my mind to have, and he treated me this way. I answered him calmlyand quietly, telling him I was serious and what you meant to me. Hewouldn't listen at first; then when he did, he wouldn't agree. Pleadedwith me--he was lonesome, I was his only son, he needed me, he couldn'tshare me with anyone else, and so on. There is no use going into all thedetails. We didn't get any nearer an agreement, we did get nearer andnearer to bad temper on my part and shouts and hysterics on his. SoI left him, Mary. That was last night. I knew Dad was inclined to bestubborn, and I knew he had strong prejudices, but I never imaginedhe could behave like this to me. And I am sure he would not if he werehimself. So I shall say no more to him on the subject for a day or two. Then, when he is better, as I am hoping he may be soon, he and I willhave another talk. But understand, Mary dear, my mind was made upbefore I spoke to him at all. What he says or what he does will make nodifference, so far as you and I are concerned. I know you are a believerin duty; well, so am I. I would stick by Dad through thick and thin. IfI knew he was right in asking me to do or not to do a thing, even if Iknew he had been wrong in asking other things, I would stick by him andtry to do as he asked. But not this. I love Dad, God knows I do, but Ilove you, Mary, and as I have vowed to myself every day since I last sawyou, I am going to marry you if you will only have me. As for Dad--well, we'll hope within a day or two I may have better news to write. 

Mary read and reread the long letter. Then she leaned back in her chairand with the letter in her lap sat there--thinking. She had been rightin her forebodings; it was as she had expected, had foreseen: EdwinSmith, man of affairs, wealthy, arbitrary, eccentric, accustomed tohaving his own way and his prejudices, however absurd, respected--a manwith an only son for whom, doubtless, plans definite and ambitious hadbeen made, could not be expected calmly to permit the upsetting of thoseplans by his boy's marriage to a poor "Down-Easter. " So much she hadforeseen from the first, and she had never shared Crawford's absoluteconfidence in his parent's acquiescence. She had been prepared, therefore, to read that Mr. Smith had refused his consent. 

But to be prepared for a probability and to face a certainty are quitedifferent. It was the certainty she was facing now. Unless Mr. Smithchanged his mind, and the chances were ten to one against that, he andhis son would quarrel. Crawford had inherited a portion of his father'sstubbornness; he was determined, she knew. He loved her and he meantwhat he said--if she would have him he would marry her in spite of hisfather. It made her proud and happy to know that. But she, too, wasresolute and had meant what she said. She would not be the cause of aseparation between father and son. And, besides, marriage had becomefor her a matter of the distant future; for the present her task was setthere at South Harniss. 

What should she do? It was hard for Crawford, poor fellow. Yes, but itwas hard for her, too. No one but she knew how hard. He would write heragain telling her that his decision was unchanged, begging her tosay she loved him, pleading with her to wait for him. And she wouldwait--Oh, how gladly, how joyfully she could wait--for him!--if she knewshe was doing right in permitting him to wait for her. If she was surethat in permitting him to give up his father's love and his home andmoney and all that money could buy she was justified. There is a lovewhich asks and a love which gives without asking return; the latter isthe greater love and it was hers. She had written Crawford that perhapsshe was not sure of her feeling toward him. That was not true. She wassure; but because she was fearful that his knowledge might be the meansof entailing a great sacrifice on his part, she would not tell him. 

What should she do? She considered, as the little Mary-'Gusta used toconsider her small problems in that very room. And the result of herconsiderations was rather unsatisfactory. There was nothing she coulddo now, nothing but wait until she heard again from Crawford. Then shewould write. 

She brushed her eyes with her handkerchief and read the letter again. There were parts of it which she could not understand. She was almostinclined to adopt Crawford's suggestion that his father's mind mighthave been affected by his illness. Why had he received so passively thenews that his son had fallen in love and yet become so violent when toldthe object of that love? He did not know her, Mary Lathrop; there couldbe no personal quality in his objection. And what could he have meant byasking if Zoeth Hamilton had sent Crawford to him? That was absolutelyabsurd. Zoeth, and Shadrach, too, had talked with Mary of Crawford'speople in the West, but merely casually, as of complete strangers, which, of course, they were. It was all strange, but explainable if oneconsidered that Mr. Smith was weak and ill and, perhaps, flighty. Shemust not think any more about it now--that is, she must try not tothink. She must not give way, and above all she must not permit heruncles to suspect that she was troubled. She must try hard to put itfrom her mind until Crawford's next letter came. 

But that letter did not come. The week passed, then another, but therewas no word from Crawford. Mary's anxiety grew. Each day as Isaiahbrought the mail she expected him to give her an envelope addressedin the familiar handwriting, but he did not. She was growingnervous--almost fearful. And then came a happening the shock of whichdrove everything else from her mind for the time and substituted forthat fear another. 

It was a Tuesday and one o'clock. Mary and Captain Shadrach, having hadan early dinner, had returned to the store. Zoeth, upon their arrival, went down to the house for his own meal. Business, which had been verygood indeed, was rather slack just then and Shadrach and Mary weretalking together. Suddenly they heard the sound of rapid footsteps inthe lane outside. 

"Who's hoofin' it up to the main road at that rate?" demanded theCaptain, lounging lazily toward the window. "Has the town pump got onfire or is somebody goin' for the doctor?"

He leaned forward to look. His laziness vanished. 

"Eh! Jumpin' Judas!" he cried, springing to the door. "It's Isaiah, andrunnin' as if the Old Boy was after him! Here! You! Isaiah! What's thematter?"

Isaiah pounded up the platform steps and staggered against the doorpost. His face flamed so red that, as Shadrach said afterward, it was "awonder the perspiration didn't bile. "

"I--I--I--" he stammered. "I--Oh, dear me! What shall I do? He--he--he'sthere on the floor and--and--Oh, my godfreys! I'm all out of wind! WhatSHALL I do?"

"Talk!" roared the Captain. "Talk! Use what wind you've got for that!What's happened? Sing out!"

"He's--he's all alone there!" panted Mr. Chase. "He won't speak, scurcely--only moans. I don't know's he ain't dead!"

"Who's dead? Who? Who? Who?" The irate Shadrach seized his steward bythe collar and shook him, not too gently. "Who's dead?" he bellowed. "Somebody will be next door to dead right here in a minute if you don'tspeak up instead of snortin' like a puffin' pig. What's happened?"

Isaiah swallowed, gasped and waved a desperate hand. "Let go of me!" heprotested. "Zoeth--he--he's down in a heap on the kitchen floor. He'shad a--a stroke or somethin'. "

"God A'mighty!" cried Shadrach, and bolted out of the door. Maryfollowed him and a moment later, Mr. Chase followed her. The store wasleft to take care of itself. 

They found poor Zoeth not exactly in a heap on the floor of the kitchen, but partially propped against one of the kitchen chairs. He was notunconscious but could speak only with difficulty. They carried him tothe bedroom and Isaiah was sent on another gallop after the doctor. Whenthe latter came he gave his patient a thorough examination and emergedfrom the sickroom looking grave. 

"You must get a nurse, " he said. "This is likely to last a long while. It is a slight paralytic stroke, I should say, though what brought iton I haven't the least idea. Has Mr. Hamilton had any sudden shock orfright or anything of that sort?"

He had not, so far as anyone knew. Isaiah, being questioned, told ofZoeth's coming in for dinner and of his--Isaiah's--handing him themorning's mail. 

"I fetched it myself down from the post-office, " said Isaiah. "There wasa couple of Hamilton and Company letters and the Wellmouth Register andone of them circulum advertisements about So-and-So's horse liniment, and, and--yes, seems to me there was a letter for Zoeth himself. He took'em all and sot down in the kitchen to look 'em over. I went into thedinin'-room. Next thing I knew I heard him say, 'O God!' just likethat. "

"Avast heavin', Isaiah!" put in Captain Shadrach. "You're way off yourcourse. Zoeth never said that. That's the way I talk, but he don't. "

"He done it this time, " persisted Isaiah. "I turned and looked throughthe doorway at him and he was standin' in the middle of the kitchenfloor. Seems to me he had a piece of white paper in his hand--seem's ifhe did. And then, afore I could say a word, he kind of groaned and sunkdown in--in a pile, as you might say, right on the floor. And I couldn'tget him up, nor get him to speak to me, nor nothin'. Yet he must havecome to enough to move after I left and to crawl acrost and lean againstthat chair. "

The horse liniment circular and the Wellmouth Register were there on thekitchen table just where Mr. Hamilton had laid them. There, also, werethe two letters addressed to Hamilton and Company. Of the letter whichIsaiah seemed to remember as addressed to Zoeth personally, there was nosign. 

"Are you sure there was such a letter, Isaiah?" asked Mary. 

Mr. Chase was not sure; that is to say, he was not sure more than aminute at a time. The minute following he was inclined to think he mighthave been mistaken, perhaps it was yesterday or the day before or evenlast week that his employer received such a letter. 

Captain Shadrach lost patience. 

"Sure 'twan't last Thanksgivin'?" he demanded. "Are you sure aboutanything? Are you sure how old you are?"

"No, by godfreys, I ain't!" roared Isaiah in desperation. "I'm so upsotever since I looked into that kitchen and see the poor soul down on thefloor there that--that all I'm sure of is that I ain't sure of nothin. '"

"Well, I don't know's I blame you much, Isaiah, " grunted the Captain. "Anyway, it doesn't make much difference about that letter, so fur as Isee, whether there was one or not. What did you want to know for, Mary?"

Mary hesitated. "Why, " she answered, "I--perhaps it is foolish, but thedoctor said something about a shock being responsible for this dreadfulthing and I didn't know--I thought perhaps there might have beensomething in that letter which shocked or alarmed Uncle Zoeth. Of courseit isn't probable that there was. "

Shadrach shook his head. 

"I guess not, " he said. "I can't think of any letter he'd get of thatkind. There's nobody to write it. He ain't got any relations nigher thanthird cousin, Zoeth ain't. Anyhow, we mustn't stop to guess riddlesnow. I'll hunt up the letter by and by, if there was one and I happen tothink of it. Now I've got to hunt up a nurse. "

The nurse was found, a Mrs. Deborah Atkins, of Ostable, and she arrivedthat night, bag and baggage, and took charge of the patient. Deborah wasnot ornamental, being elderly and, as Captain Shadrach said, built fortonnage more than speed; but she was sensible and capable. Also, her feewas not excessive, although that was by no means the principal reasonfor her selection. 

"Never mind what it costs, " said Mary. "Get the best you can. It's forUncle Zoeth, remember. "

Shadrach's voice shook a little as he answered. 

"I ain't likely to forget, " he said. "Zoeth and I've cruised togetherfor a good many years and if one of us has to go under I'd rather 'twasme. I haven't got much money but what I've got is his, and after thatso long as I can get trusted. But there, " with an attempt at optimism, "don't you fret, Mary-'Gusta. Nobody's goin' under yet. We'll have Zoethup on deck doin' the fishers' hornpipe in a couple of weeks. "

But it was soon plain to everyone, the Captain included, that many timestwo weeks must elapse before Mr. Hamilton would be able to appear ondeck again, to say nothing of dancing hornpipes. For days he lay inpartial coma, rallying occasionally and speaking at rare intervals butevidently never fully aware of where he was and what had happened. 

"He will recover, I think, " said the doctor, "but it will be a slowjob. "

Mary did not again refer to the letter regarding which Isaiah's memorywas so befogged. In fact, she forgot it entirely. So also did CaptainShad. For both the worry of Zoeth's illness and the care of the storewere sufficient to drive trifles from their minds. 

And for Mary there was another trouble, one which she must keep toherself. Three weeks had elapsed since Crawford's letter, that tellingof his two fateful interviews with his father, and still no word hadcome from him. Mary could not understand his silence. In vain she calledher philosophy to her rescue, striving to think that after all it wasbest if she never heard from him again, best that a love affair whichcould never end happily were ended at once, best that he should come tosee the question as his father saw it--best for him, that is, forhis future would then be one of ease and happiness. All this shethought--and then found herself wondering why he had not written, imagining all sorts of direful happenings and feeling herselfresponsible. 

CHAPTER XXIII

One evening, about a week after Mr. Hamilton's sudden seizure, Mary wasin her room alone. She had again reread Crawford's latest letter and wassitting there trying to imagine the scene as he had described it. Shewas trying to picture Edwin Smith, the man who--as his son had so oftentold her--indulged that son's every whim, was kindness and parental lovepersonified, and yet had raved and stormed like a madman because the boywished to marry her, Mary Lathrop. 

She rose, opened the drawer of her bureau, and took out the photographof Mr. Smith, the one which showed him without his beard, the one takensince his illness. Crawford had written that this photograph, too, hadbeen taken on the sly. 

"Dad's prejudice against photos is as keen as ever, " he wrote. "He wouldslaughter me on the spot if he knew I had snapped him. "

The face in the picture was not that of the savage, unrelentingparent of the old plays, who used to disinherit his sons and drive hisdaughters out into blinding snowstorms because they dared thwart hisimperial will. Edwin Smith was distinctly a handsome man, gray-haired, of course, and strong-featured, but with a kind rather than a sternexpression. As Mary had said when she first saw his likeness, he lookedas if he might have had experiences. In this photograph he looked verygrave, almost sad, but possibly that was because of his recent sickness. 

She was looking at the picture when Isaiah's voice was heard outside thedoor. 

"Hi, Mary-'Gusta, " whispered Mr. Chase. "Ain't turned in yet, have you?Can I speak with you a minute?"

"Certainly, Isaiah, " said Mary. "Come in!"

Isaiah entered. "'Twan't nothin' special, " he said. "I was just goin' totell you that Debby T. Cal'lates Zoeth is a little mite easier tonight. She just said so and I thought you'd like to know. "

By "Debby T. " Isaiah meant Mrs. Atkins. Mary understood. 

"Thank you, Isaiah, " she said. "I am ever so glad to hear it. Thank youfor telling me. "

"That's all right, Mary-'Gusta. Hello! who's tintype's that?"

He had caught sight of the photograph upon the arm of Mary's chair. Hepicked it up and looked at it. She heard him gasp. Turning, she sawhim staring at the photograph with an expression of absoluteamazement--amazement and alarm. 

"Why, Isaiah!" she cried. "What is the matter?"

Isaiah, not taking his eyes from the picture, extended it in one handand pointed to it excitedly with the other. 

"For godfreys mighty sakes!" he demanded. "Where did you get that?"

"Get what? The photograph?"

"Yes! Yes, yes! Where'd you get it? Where'd it come from?"

"It was sent to me. What of it? What is the matter?"

Isaiah answered neither question. He seemed to have heard only the firstsentence. 

"SENT to you!" he repeated. "Mary-'Gusta Lathrop, have you been tryin'to find out--Look here! who sent you Ed Farmer's picture?"

Mary stared at him. "WHOSE picture?" she said. "What are you talkingabout, Isaiah?"

Isaiah thrust the photograph still closer to the end of her nose. Alsohe continued to point at it. 

"Who sent you Ed Farmer's picture?" he repeated. "Where--where'd you getit? You tell me, now. "

Mary looked him over from head to foot. 

"I don't know whether to send for Uncle Shad or the doctor, " she said, slowly. "If you don't stop hopping up and down and waving your arms asif they worked by strings I shall probably send for both. Isaiah Chase, behave yourself! What is the matter with you?"

Isaiah, during his years as sea cook, had learned to obey orders. Mary'stone had its effect upon him. He dropped one hand, but he still heldthe photograph in the other. And he stared at it as if it possessed somesort of horrible charm which frightened and fascinated at the same time. Mary had never seen him so excited. 

"Ed Farmer!" he exclaimed. "Oh, I swan to man! I don't see how--Say, itIS him, ain't it, Mary-'Gusta? But of course 'tis! I can see 'tis withmy own eyes. My godfreys mighty!"

Mary shook her head. "If I didn't know you were a blue ribboner, Isaiah, " she said, "I should be suspicious. That photograph was sent mefrom the West. It is a picture of a gentleman named Edwin Smith, someoneI have never seen and I'm perfectly sure you never have. Why in theworld it should make you behave as if you needed a strait-jacket I can'tsee. Does Mr. Smith resemble someone you know?"

Isaiah's mouth fell open and remained so as he gazed first at thephotograph and then at her. 

"Ed--Edwin Smith, " he repeated. "Edwin Smith! I--I don't know no EdwinSmith. Look here, now; honest, Mary-'Gusta, AIN'T that a picture of EdFarmer?"

Mary laughed. "Of course it isn't, " she said. "Who is Ed Farmer, pray?"

Isaiah did not answer. He was holding the photograph near the end of hisown nose now and examining it with eager scrutiny, muttering comments ashe did so. 

"If it ain't him it's a better picture than if 'twas, " was one of hisamazing observations. "Don't seem as if two folks could look so muchalike and not be. And yet--and yet I can see--I can see now--thisfeller's hair's pretty nigh white and Ed's was dark brown. But thenif this feller was Ed he'd be--he'd be--let's see--he'd be all ofthirty-five years older than he was thirty-five years ago and that wouldaccount--"

Mary burst out laughing. 

"Do be still, Isaiah!" she broke in. "You are perfectly idiotic. Thatman's name is Smith, I tell you. "

Mr. Chase heaved a sigh. "You're sartin 'tis?" he asked. 

"Of course I am. "

"Well, then I cal'late it must be. But if Ed Farmer had lived all theseyears and had had his tintype took he wouldn't get one to favor him morethan that does, I bet you. My, it give me a start, comin' onto me sounexpected!"

"But who is Ed Farmer?" asked Mary. The name had meant nothing to her sofar. And yet, even as she spoke she remembered. Her expression changed. 

"Do you mean--" she cried, eagerly. "Why, Isaiah, do you mean the man inthat old photograph I found in the garret ever and ever so long ago? Theone you told me was a--a blackguard?"

Isaiah, still staring at Mr. Smith's likeness, answered emphatically. 

"That's the one, " he said. "That's the one I meant. My, this feller doeslook like him, or the way I cal'late he would look if he lived as longas this!"

"Is he dead, then?"

"I don't know. We don't any of us know around here. I ain't laid eyes onhim since the day afore it happened. I remember just as well as if 'twasyesterday. He come out of the office onto the wharf where I was workin'and he says to me, 'Isaiah, ' he says, knockin' on the head of a barrelwith his hand--the right hand 'twas, the one that had the bent finger;he got it smashed under a hogshead of salt one time and it never camestraight again--'Isaiah, ' says he, 'it's a nice day, ain't it. ' AndI answered up prompt--I liked him fust-rate; everybody liked him themdays--'Yes, sir, ' I says, 'this is a good enough day to go see your bestgirl in. ' I never meant nothin' by it, you understand, just a sayin''twas, but it seemed to give him a kind of start. He looked at me hard. 'Did anyone tell you where I was goin'?' says he, sharp. 'Why, no, ' saysI. 'Why should they?' He didn't answer, just kept on starin' at me. Thenhe laughed and walked away. I didn't know where he was goin' then, but Iknow now, darn him! And the next day he went--for good. "

He stopped speaking. Mary waited a moment and then asked, quietly: "Wentwhere, Isaiah? Where did he go?"

Isaiah, who was standing, the photograph still in his hand, started, turned and looked at her. 

"What's that?" he asked. 

"I say, where did this Mr. Farmer go?"

"Eh? Oh, I don't know. He went away, that's all. Don't ask me any morequestions. I've been talkin' too much, anyhow, I cal'late. Cap'nShad would skin me alive if he knew I'd said as much as I have. Say, Mary-'Gusta, don't you say nothin' to either him or Zoeth, will you?You see--it's--it's a kind of little secret we have amongst us and--andnobody else is in on it. 'Twas this plaguey tintype got me to talkin'. No wonder neither! I never see such a look on two folks. I--there, there! Good night, Mary-'Gusta, good night. "

He tossed the photograph on the bureau and hurried out of the room. Marycalled after him, but he would neither stop nor answer. 

After he had gone Mary took up the photograph, seated herself once morein the chair, and studied the picture for a long time. Then she roseand, lamp in hand, left the room, tiptoed along the hall past the doorof Captain Shadrach's room, and up the narrow stairs to the attic, herold playground. 

Her playthings were there still, arranged in her customary orderlyfashion along the walls. Rose and Rosette and Minnehaha and the otherdolls were seated in their chairs or the doll carriage or with theirbacks against Shadrach's old sea chest. She had never put them away outof sight. Somehow it seemed more like home to her, the knowledge thatthough she would never play with them again, they were there waitingfor her in their old places. While she was away at school they had beencovered from the dust by a cloth, but now the cloth had been taken awayand she herself dusted them every other morning before going up to thestore. As Shadrach said, no one but Mary-'Gusta would ever have thoughtof doing such a thing. She did, because she WAS Mary-'Gusta. 

However, the dolls did not interest her now. She tiptoed across thegarret floor, taking great care to avoid the boards which creaked most, and lifted the lid of the old trunk which she had first opened on thatSaturday afternoon nearly ten years before. She found the pocket onthe under side of the lid, opened it and inserted her hand. Yes, thephotograph of Hall and Company was still there, she could feel the edgeof it with her fingers. 

She took it out, and closed the pocket and then the trunk, and tiptoeddown the stairs and to her room again. She closed the door, lockedit--something she had never done in her life before--and placingthe photograph she had taken from the trunk beside that sent her byCrawford, sat down to compare them. 

And as she looked at the two photographs her wonder at Isaiah's oddbehavior ceased. It was not strange that when he saw Mr. Edwin Smith'slikeness he was astonished; it was not remarkable that he could scarcelybe convinced the photograph was not that of the mysterious Ed Farmer. For here in the old, yellow photograph of the firm of "Hall and Company, Wholesale Fish Dealers, " was Edgar S. Farmer, and here in the photographsent her by Crawford was Edwin Smith. And save that Edgar S. Farmerwas a young man and Edwin Smith a man in the middle sixties, they werealmost identical in appearance. Each time she had seen Mr. Smith'sphotograph she had felt certain she must have met the original. Here wasthe reason--this man in the other photograph. The only difference wasthe difference of age. Edwin Smith had a nose like Edgar Farmer's, anda chin like his and eyes like his. And Isaiah had just said that EdgarFarmer had a crooked finger on his right hand caused by an accident witha hogshead of salt. Mary remembered well something Crawford had toldher, that his father had a finger on the right hand which had been hurtin a mine years before he, Crawford, was born. 

It could not be, of course--it could not be--and yet--Oh, WHAT did itmean?

CHAPTER XXIV

In his own room at the end of the second-story hall, over the kitchen, Mr. Chase was sitting reading the local paper before retiring. It was ahabit he had, one of which Captain Shadrach pretended to approve highly. "Best thing in the world, Isaiah, " declared the Captain. "Sleep's whateverybody needs and I can't think of any surer way of gettin' to sleepthan readin' the South Harniss news in that paper. "

Whether or not this unkind joke was deserved is not material; at allevents Isaiah was reading the paper when he was very much startled by aknock at the door. 

"Who--who is it?" he stammered. 

"It is Mary, " whispered a voice outside the door. "I want to speak withyou, Isaiah. You're not in bed, are you?"

Isaiah reluctantly relinquished the paper. "No, no, " he replied, "Iain't in bed. What's the matter? Zoeth ain't no worse, is he?"

"Let me in and I'll tell you. "

"Come on in. You don't need no lettin'. "

Mary entered. She was very grave and very earnest. 

"What in the nation, " began Isaiah, "are you prowlin' around this hourof the night for?"

"Hush! Isaiah, you must tell me everything now. There's no use to sayyou won't--you MUST. Who was Edgar Farmer and what wrong did he do myuncles?"

Isaiah said nothing; he did not attempt to answer. Instead he gaped ather with such an expression of guilty surprise, fright, and apprehensionthat at any other time she would have laughed. Just now, however, shewas far from laughing. 

"Come! come!" she said, impatiently. "I mean it. I want you to tell meall about this Edgar Farmer. "

"Now--now, Mary-'Gusta, I told you--"

"You told me a very little. Now I want to know the rest. Everyone elsein this family knows it and it is time I did. I'm not a child any more. Tell me the whole story, Isaiah. "

"I shan't neither. Oh, by godfreys, this is what I get by sayin' more'nI ought to! And yet how could I help it when I see that tintype? It'sjust my luck! Nobody else but me would have had the dratted luck to havethat picture stuck into their face and eyes unexpected. And 'twas justso when you found that other one years ago up attic. I had to be the oneyou sprung it on! I had to be! But I shan't tell you nothin'!"

"Yes, you will. You must tell me everything. "

"Well, I shan't. "

"Very well. Then I shall go straight to Uncle Shad. "

"To who? To CAP'N SHAD! Oh, my godfreys mighty! You go to him and seewhat he'll say! Just go! Why, he'd shut up tighter'n a clam at lowwater and he'd give you fits besides. Go to Cap'n Shad and ask about EdFarmer! My soul! You try it! Aw, don't be foolish, Mary-'Gusta. "

"I'm not going to be foolish, Isaiah. If I go to Uncle Shad I shall tellhim that it was through you I learned there was such a person as theFarmer man and that there was a secret connected with him, that it was adisagreeable secret, that--"

"Hush! Land sakes alive! Mary-'Gusta, DON'T talk so! Why, if you toldCap'n Shad he'd--I don't know what he wouldn't do to me. If he knew Itold you about Ed Farmer he'd--I swan to man I believe he'd pretty nighkill me!"

"Well, you'll soon know what he will do, for unless you tell me thewhole story, I shall certainly go to him. "

"Aw, Mary-'Gusta--"

"I surely shall. And if he won't tell me I shall go to someone outsidethe family--to Judge Baxter, perhaps. He would tell me, I'm sure, ifI asked. No, Isaiah, you tell me. And if you do tell me all freely andfrankly, keeping nothing back, I'll say nothing to Uncle Shad or UncleZoeth. They shall never know who told. "

Mr. Chase wrung his hands. Ever since he had been cook at the whitehouse by the shore he had had this duty laid upon him, the duty ofkeeping his lips closed upon the name of Edgar Farmer and the storyconnected with that name. When Captain Shadrach first engaged him forhis present situation the Captain had ordered him never to speak thename or mention the happenings of that time. And after little MaryLathrop became a regular and most important member of the family, thecommand was repeated. "She mustn't ever know if we can help it, Isaiah, "said Shadrach, solemnly. "You know Zoeth and how he feels. For his sake, if nothin' else, we mustn't any of us drop a hint so that she will know. She'll find out, I presume likely, when she gets older; there'll be somekind soul around town that'll tell her, consarn 'em; but WE shan't tellher; and if YOU tell her, Isaiah Chase, I'll--I declare to man I'llheave you overboard!"

And now after all these years of ignorance during which the expected hadnot happened and no one of the village gossips had revealed the secretto her--now, here she was, demanding that he, Isaiah Chase, reveal it, and threatening to go straight to Captain Gould and tell who had puther upon the scent. No wonder the cook and steward wrung his hands indespair; the heaving overboard was imminent. 

Mary, earnest and determined as she was to learn the truth, thetruth which she was beginning to believe might mean so much to her, nevertheless could not help pitying him. 

"Come, come, Isaiah, " she said, "don't look so tragic. There isn'tanything so dreadful about it. Have you promised--have you given yourword not to tell? Because if you have I shan't ask you to break it. I shall go to Judge Baxter instead--or to Uncle Shad. But of course Ishall be obliged to tell how I came to know--the little I do know. "

Mr. Chase did not like the prospect of her going to the Captain, thatwas plain. For the first time his obstinacy seemed to waver. 

"I--I don't know's I ever give my word, " he admitted. "I never promisednothin', as I recollect. Cap'n Shad he give me orders--"

"Yes, yes, of course he did. Well, now I'M giving you orders. And Ipromise you, Isaiah, if it ever becomes necessary I'll stand between youand Uncle Shad. Now tell me. "

Isaiah sat down upon the bed and wiped his forehead. 

"Oh, Lordy!" he moaned. "I wisht my mouth had been sewed up afore everI said a word about any of it. . . . But--but . . . Well, " desperately, "what is it you want to know?"

"I want to know everything. Begin at the beginning and tell me who Mr. Farmer was. "

Mr. Chase marked a pattern on the floor with his slippered foot. Then hebegan:

"He come from up Cape Ann way in the beginnin', " he said. "The rest ofthe firm was Cape Codders, but he wan't. However, he'd been a-fishin'and he knew fish and after the firm was fust started and needed an extrybookkeeper he applied and got the job. There was three of 'em in Halland Company at fust, all young men they was, too; your stepfather, Cap'nMarcellus Hall, he was the head one; and Mr. Zoeth, he was next andCap'n Shad next. 'Twan't until three or four year afterwards that EdFarmer was took in partner. He was so smart and done so well they givehim a share and took him in. 

"Everybody liked him, too. He was younger even than the rest, and finelookin' and he had a--a kind of way with him that just made you likehim. The way the business was handled was somethin' like this: Cap'nMarcellus, your stepfather, Mary-'Gusta, he and Cap'n Shad done theoutside managin', bossin' the men--we had a lot of 'em on the wharf themdays, too, and there was always schooners unloadin' and carts loadin' upand fellers headin' up barrels--Oh, Hall and Company's store and dockswas the busiest place on the South Shore. You ask anybody that remembersand they'll tell you so. 

"Well, Cap'n Marcellus and Cap'n Shad was sort of outside bosses, sameas I said, and Zoeth he was sort of general business boss, 'tendin' tothe buyin' supplies and payin' for 'em and gettin' money and the like ofthat, and Ed--Edgar Farmer, I mean--he was inside office boss, lookin'out for the books and the collections and the bank account and so on. Marcellus and Zoeth and Cap'n Shad was old chums and had been for years;they was as much to each other as brothers and always had been; but itwan't so very long afore they thought as much of Farmer as they did ofthemselves. He was that kind--you couldn't help takin' a notion to him. 

"When I get to talkin' about Hall and Company I could talk for a monthof Sundays. Them was great days--yes, sir, great days for South Harnissand the fish business. Why I've seen, of a Saturday mornin' in themackerel season, as many as forty men ashore right here in town withmoney in their pockets and their hats on onesided, lookin' for fun ortrouble just as happened along. And Cap'n Marcellus and his partners waslooked up to and respected; not much more'n boys they wan't, but theywas big-bugs, I tell you, and they wore beaver hats to church on Sunday, every man jack of 'em. Fur's that goes, I wore one, too, and you mightnot think it, but 'twas becomin' to me if I do say it. Yes, sir-ee!'Twas a kind of curl-up brim one, that hat was, and--"

"Never mind the hat now, Isaiah, " interrupted Mary. "Tell me about Mr. Farmer. "

Isaiah looked offended. "I am tellin' you, ain't I?" he demanded. "Ain'tI tellin' you fast as I can?"

"Perhaps you are. We won't argue about it. Go on. "

"Well--well, where was I? You've put me clear off my course. "

"You were just going to tell me what Mr. Farmer did. "

"What he did! What didn't he do, you'd better say! The blackguard!He smashed the firm flat, that's what he done! And he run off withMarcellus's sister. "

"Marcellus's sister! My stepfather's sister! I didn't know he ever had asister. Are you sure he had?"

"Am I sure! What kind of talk's that? Course I'm sure! She was youngerthan Marcellus and pretty--say, she WAS pretty! Yes, the outside of herfigurehead was mighty hard to beat, everybody said so; but the insidewas kind of--well, kind of rattly, as you might say. She'd laugh andtalk and go on and Ed Farmer he'd hang over the desk there in the officeand look at her. Just look--and look--and look. How many times I'veseen 'em that way! It got so that folks begun to talk a little mite. Marcellus didn't, of course; he idolized that girl, worshiped her likea vain thing, so's to speak. And Cap'n Shad, course he wouldn't talkbecause he's always down on tattle-tales and liars, but I've alwaysthought he was a little mite suspicious and troubled. As for poorZoeth--well, it's always his kind that are the last to suspect. AndZoeth was as innocent then as he is now. And as good, too. 

"And then one day it come out, come down on us like the mainmast goin'by the board. No, come to think of it, it didn't come all to once thatway. Part of it did, but the rest didn't. The rest kind of leaked outalong slow, gettin' a little mite worse every day. I can see it just asplain as if 'twas yesterday--Marcellus and Shadrach in the office goin'over the books and addin' up on pieces of paper, and it gettin' worseand worse all the time. And the whole town a-talkin'! And poorZoeth lyin' in his bedroom there to home, out of his mind and ravin'distracted and beggin' and pleadin' with his partners not to chase 'em, to let 'em go free for her sake. And the doctor a-comin'! And--"

Mary began to feel that she, too, was in danger of raving distraction. Between her anxiety to hear the story and her forebodings and growingsuspicions she was becoming more and more nervous as Isaiah rambled on. 

"Wait! Wait, please, Isaiah!" she begged. "I don't understand. What hadhappened?"

Isaiah regarded her with surprise and impatience. 

"Ain't I been tellin' you?" he snapped, testily. "Ain't I this minutetold you? This Ed Farmer had cleared out and run off and he'd tookwith him every cent of Hall and Company's money that he could rake andscrape. He'd been stealin' and speculatin' for years, it turned out. 'Twas him, the dum thief, him and his stealin's that made the firm fail. Wan't that enough to happen, I'd like to know? But that wan't all; no, sir, that wan't the worst of it. "

He paused, evidently expecting his hearer to make some comment. She wasleaning forward, her eyes fixed upon his face, but she did not speak. Mr. Chase, judging by her expression that he had created the sensationwhich, as story-teller, he considered his due, went on. 

"No, sir-ee! that wan't the worst of it. You and me might have thoughtlosin' all our money was the worst that could be, but Marcellusand Shadrach didn't think so. Marcellus was pretty nigh stove inhimself--there was nothin' on earth he loved the way he loved thatsister of his--but when he and Cap'n Shad thought of poor Zoeth theycouldn't think of much else. Shadrach had liked her and Marcellus hadloved her, but Zoeth had fairly bowed down and worshiped the ground shetrod on. Anything she wanted, no matter what, she could have if 'twas inZoeth's power to get it for her. He'd humored her and spiled her as ifshe was a child and all he asked for doin' it was that she'd pat himon the head once in a while, same as you would a dog. And now she'dgone--run off with that thief! Why--"

Mary interrupted again. "Wait! Wait, Isaiah, " she cried. "I tell you Idon't understand. You say--you say Captain Hall's sister had gone withMr. Farmer?"

"Sartin! she run off with him and nobody's laid eyes on either of 'emsince. That was why--"

"Stop! stop! What I don't understand is why Uncle Zoeth was so strickenby the news. Why had HE humored and spoiled her? Was he in love withher?"

Isaiah stared at her in blank astonishment. 

"In love with her!" he repeated. "Course he was! Why wouldn't he be?Wan't she his wife?"

There was no doubt about the sensation now. The color slowly faded fromMary's cheeks. 

"His WIFE?" she repeated slowly. 

"Sartin! They'd been married 'most five year. Didn't I tell you? She wasa good deal younger'n he was, but--"

"Wait! What--what was her name?"

"Eh? Didn't I tell you that neither? That's funny. Her name wasPatience--Patience Hall. "

The last doubt was gone. Clear and distinct to Mary's mind came asentence of Crawford's: "I saw her name first on the gravestone and itmade an impression on me because it was so quaint and old-fashioned. 'Patience, wife of Edwin Smith. '"

She heard very little of Isaiah's story thereafter. Scattered sentencesreached her ears. Isaiah was telling how, because of Zoeth's pleadingand the latter's desire to avoid all the public scandal possible, noattempt was made to trace the fugitives. 

"They went West somewheres, " said Isaiah. "Anyhow 'twas supposed theydid 'cause they was seen together on the Chicago train by an Orham manthat knew Farmer. Anybody but Marcellus and your uncles, Mary-'Gusta, would have sot the sheriff on their track and hauled 'em back here andmade that Farmer swab give up what he stole. I don't imagine he had sucha terrible lot with him, I cal'late the heft of it had gone in stockspeculatin', but he must have had somethin' and they could have gota-holt of that. But no, Zoeth he says, 'Don't follow 'em! For her sakeand mine--don't make the shame more public than 'tis. ' You see, Zoethwas the same then as he is now; you'd have thought HE was to blame tohear him talk. He never said a word against her then nor since. A mightygood man, your Uncle Zoeth Hamilton is, Mary-'Gusta. Saint on earth, Icall him. "

He went on to tell how Marcellus and Shadrach had fought to keep thefirm on its feet, how for a time it struggled on against the load ofdebt left it by their former partner, only to go down at last. 

"Marcellus went down with it, as you might say, " continued Isaiah. "Between losin' his sister and losin' his business he never was the sameman afterwards, though he did make consider'ble money in other ways. Himand Cap'n Shadrach both went back to seafarin' again and after a spellI went with 'em. Poor Zoeth, when he got on his feet, which took a longspell, he started a little store that by and by, when Cap'n Shad joinedin with him, was Hamilton and Company, same as now. And when Shadrachcome I come too, as cook and steward, you understand. But from thatday to this there's been two names never mentioned in this house, one'sPatience Hall's and t'other's Ed Farmer's. You can see now why, when Ithought that tintype was his, I was so took aback. You see, don't you, Mary-'Gusta? Why! Where you goin'?"

Mary had risen from her chair, taken up the lamp, and was on her way tothe door. 

"I'm going to my room, " she said. "Good night, Isaiah. "

"What are you goin' now for? I could tell you a lot more partic'lars ifyou wanted to hear 'em. Now I've told so much I might as well tell therest. If I'm goin' to be hove overboard for tellin' I might as well makea big splash as a little one. If you got any questions to ask, heaveahead and ask 'em. Fire away, I don't care, " he added, recklessly. 

But Mary shook her head. She did not even turn to look at him. 

"Perhaps I may ask them some other time, " she said. "Not now. Thank youfor telling me so much. Good night. "

Alone in her own room once more she sat down to think. It was plainenough now. All the parts of the puzzle fitted together. Edwin Smithhaving been proved to be Edgar Farmer, everything was explainable. Ithad seemed queer to her, Mr. Smith's aversion to the East, his refusalto come East even to his son's graduation; but it was not at all queerthat Edgar Farmer, the embezzler, should feel such an aversion, orrefuse to visit a locality where, even after all these years, he mightbe recognized. It was not odd that he disliked to be photographed. Andit certainly was not strange that he should have behaved as he didwhen his son announced the intention of marrying her, Mary Lathrop, stepdaughter of one of his former partners and victims' and adoptedniece and ward of the other two. 

What a terrible surprise and shock Crawford's communication must havebeen to him! The dead past, the past he no doubt had believed buriedforever, had risen from the tomb to confront him. His only son, theboy he idolized, who believed him to be a man of honor, whose love andrespect meant more than the world to him--his only son asking to marrythe ward of the man whom he had wronged beyond mortal forgiveness, asking to marry her and intimating that he would marry her whether orno. And the secret which he had guarded so jealously, had hidden fromhis son and the world with such infinite pains, suddenly threatening tobe cried aloud in the streets for all, his boy included, to hear. Maryshuddered as she realized what the man must have felt. It must haveseemed to him like the direct hand of avenging Providence. No wonderhe at first could not believe it to be merely accident, coincidence; nowonder that he asked if Zoeth Hamilton had sent Crawford to him, and haddemanded to know what Zoeth Hamilton had told. 

It was dreadful, it was pitiful. She found herself pitying EdwinSmith--or Edgar Farmer--even though she knew the retribution which hadcome upon him was deserved. 

She pitied him--yes; but now she could spare little pity for others, sheneeded as much herself. For minute by minute, as she sat there thinkingout this great problem just as the little Mary-'Gusta used to think outher small ones, her duty became clear and more clear to her mind. EdgarFarmer's secret must be kept. For Crawford's sake it must be. He neednot--he must not--learn that the father he had honored and respected allhis life was unworthy of that honor and respect. And her uncles--theymust not know. The old skeleton must not be dug from its grave. HerUncle Zoeth had told her only a little while before that he was learningto forget, or if not to forget at least to be more reconciled. Shedid not understand him then; now she did. To have him learn that EdgarFarmer was alive, that his son--Oh, no, he must not learn it! Ill as hewas, and weak as he was likely to be always, the shock might kill him. And yet sooner or later he would learn unless the secret remained, as ithad been for years, undisclosed. 

And to keep it still a secret was, she saw clearly, her duty. She mightrebel against it, she might feel that it was wicked and cruel, the spoiling of her life to save these others, but it was her dutynevertheless. Because she loved Crawford--and she was realizing now thatshe did love him dearly, that there could never be another love in theworld for her---she must send him away, she must end the affair atonce. If she did that she could save him from learning of his father'sdisgrace, could avert the otherwise inevitable quarrel between them, could make his career and his future secure. And her uncles would behappy, the skeleton would remain undisturbed. 

Yes, she must do it. But it was so hard to do. Philosophy did not helpin the least. She had tried to convince herself when she gave up herschool work that it meant the end of her romance also. She had tried totell Crawford so. But she had been weak, she had permitted herself tohope. She had realized that for the present, perhaps for years, she mustwork for and with the old men who had been father and mother bothto her, but--he had said so--Crawford would wait for her, and someday--perhaps--

But now there was no perhaps--now she knew. She must receive no moreletters from him. She must never see him again. The break must beabsolute and final. And there was but one way to bring that about. Hehad said repeatedly that only her declaration that she did not love himwould ever prevent his marrying her. Very well, then for his sake shemust lie to him; she must tell him that very thing. She must write himthat she had been considering the matter and had decided she could neverlove him enough to become his wife. 

It was almost two o'clock when she reached this decision but she satdown at her desk to write then and there the letter containing it, thelast letter she would ever write him. And when the morning light camestreaming in at the windows she still sat there, the letter unwritten. She had made many beginnings, but not an end. She must try again; shewas too tired, too nervous, too hopeless and heartbroken to make anotherattempt that morning, but before the day was over it should be done. She threw herself down upon the bed but she could not sleep. Why hadshe been selected to bear this burden? What had she done that God shoulddelight to torture her in this way?

CHAPTER XXV

That difficult letter was never written. In the afternoon, business atthe store being rather quiet and Mrs. Atkins, the nurse, desiring anhour's leave to do an errand in the village, Mary had taken her placein the sickroom. Zoeth was improving slowly, so the doctor said, but hetook very little interest in what went on, speaking but seldom, asking few questions, and seeming to be but partially sensible of hissurroundings. Best not to try to rouse him, the physician said. Littleby little he would gain mentally as well as physically and, by andby, there was reason to hope, would be up and about again. Probably, however, he would never be so strong as he had been before his suddenseizure, the cause of which--if there had been a definite cause--wasstill unknown. 

Just then he was asleep and Mary, sitting in the rocking-chair by thebed, was thinking, thinking, thinking. If she could only stop thinkingfor a little while! Uncle Zoeth, there on the bed, looked so calm andpeaceful. If only she might have rest and peace again! If she might beallowed to forget!

The door opened gently and Mr. Chase appeared. He beckoned to her tocome out. With a glance at the patient, she tiptoed from the room intothe hall. 

"What is it, Isaiah?" she asked. 

Isaiah seemed to be excited about something. 

"I've got a surprise for you, Mary-'Gusta, " he whispered. "There'ssomebody downstairs to see you. "

His manner was so important and mysterious that Mary was puzzled. 

"Someone to see me?" she repeated. "Who is it?"

Mr. Chase winked. 

"It's somebody you wan't expectin' to see, I bet you!" he declared. "Iknow I wan't. When I opened the door and see him standin' there I--"

"Saw him? Who? Who is it, Isaiah? Stop that ridiculous winking thisinstant. Who is it?"

"It's that young Crawford Smith feller from way out West, that's who'tis. Ah, ha! I told you you'd be surprised. "

She was surprised, there could be no doubt of that. For a moment shestood perfectly still. Had it not been that the hall was almost dark inthe shadows of the late afternoon Isaiah would have noticed how paleshe had become. But it was evident that he did not notice it, for hechuckled. 

"I told you you'd be some surprised, " he crowed. "Well, ain't you comin'on down to see him? Seems to me if I had a beau--excuse me, a gentlemanfriend--who come a-cruisin' all the way from t'other side of creation tosee me I wouldn't keep him waitin' very long. Ho! ho!"

Mary did not answer at once. When she did she was surprised to find thatshe was able to speak so calmly. 

"I shall be down in a moment, " she said. "Isaiah, will you please go inand stay with Uncle Zoeth until I come?"

Isaiah looked chagrined and disappointed. Visitors from the far Westwere rare and especially rare was a young gentleman who Mr. Chase, withwhat Captain Shadrach termed his "lovesick imagination, " surmised wasMary-'Gusta's beau. He wished to see more of him. 

"Aw, say, Mary-'Gusta, " he pleaded, "I'm awful busy. I don't see how Ican set along of Zoeth--Say, Mary'Gusta!"

But Mary had gone. She was hurrying along the hall toward her own room. So Isaiah, remembering that the doctor had said Mr. Hamilton must not beleft alone, grumblingly obeyed orders and went in to sit beside him. 

In her own room Mary stood, white and shaken, striving to regain hercomposure. She must regain it, she must be cool and calm in order to gothrough the ordeal she knew was before her. His coming could mean butone thing: his father had still refused consent and he had come to tellher so and to beg her to wait for him in spite of it. If only he hadwritten saying he was coming, if she had been forewarned, then shemight have been more ready, more prepared. Now she must summon all herresolution and be firm and unwavering. Her purpose was as set and strongas ever, but ah, it would be so hard to tell him! To write the lettershe had meant to write would have been easy compared to this. However, it must be done--and done now. She went down the stairs and entered thesitting-room. 

He was sitting in the rocker by the window and when she came into theroom he sprang to his feet and came toward her. His face, or so itseemed to her, showed some traces of the trouble and anxiety throughwhich he had passed so recently. He was a little thinner and he lookedless boyish. He held out his hands. 

"Well, Mary, " he cried, eagerly, "here I am. Aren't you glad to see me?"

He seized both her hands in his. She disengaged them gently. Her mannerseemed odd to him and he regarded her in a puzzled way. 

"AREN'T you glad?" he repeated. "Why, Mary, what is the matter?"

She smiled sadly and shook her head. "Oh, Crawford, " she said, "why didyou come? Or, at least, why didn't you write me you were coming?"

He laughed. "I didn't write, " he answered, "because I was afraid if Idid you would write me not to come. "

"I certainly should. "

"Of course you would. So I took no chances but just came instead. "

"But why did you come?"

"Why? To see you, of course. "

"Oh, Crawford, please don't joke. You know I asked you not to come here. When we last spoke together, over the telephone, I told you that if youcame here I should not see you. And yet you came. "

His manner changed. He was serious enough now. 

"I came, " he said, "because--well, because I felt that I must. I hadmany things to tell you, Mary, and something to ask. And I couldneither tell nor ask in a letter. Dad and I have quarreled--we've partedcompany. "

She had expected to hear it, but it shocked and grieved her, nevertheless. She knew how he had loved his father. 

"Sit down, Crawford, " she said gently. "Sit down and tell me all aboutit. "

He told her. There was little more to tell than he had written. Hisfather had not become more reconciled to the idea of his marrying Mary. Instead his opposition was just as violent and, to his son's mind, asunreasonably absurd. Day after day Crawford waited, hoping that timewould bring a change or that his own arguments might have an effect, butneither time nor argument softened Edwin Smith's obstinacy. 

"He behaved like a madman at times, " declared Crawford. "And at othershe would almost beg me on his knees to give you up. I asked him why. Itold him over and over again that he should be proud to have such a girlfor his daughter-in-law. I said everything I could. I told him I woulddo anything for him--anything he asked--except give you up. That I wouldnot do. And it was the only thing he seemed to wish me to do. Talkedabout bringing shame and disgrace on his head and mine--and all sorts ofwild nonsense. When I asked what he meant by disgrace he could not tellme. Of course he couldn't. "

That was true, of course he could not tell. Mary knew, and she realizedonce more the tortures which the man must have suffered, must besuffering at that moment. 

"So at last we parted, " said Crawford. "I left word--left a lettersaying that, so far as I could see, it was best that I went away. Wecould not agree apparently, he and I, upon the one point which, as Isaw it, was the most important decision of my life. And I had made thatdecision. I told him how much I hated to leave him; that I loved him asmuch as I ever did. 'But, ' I said, 'I shall not give up my happiness andmy future merely to gratify your unreasonable whim. ' Then I came awayand started East to you. "

He paused, evidently expecting Mary to make some comment or ask aquestion, but she was silent. After a moment he went on. 

"I haven't made any definite plans as yet, " he said. "I have anotheryear at the Medical School--or should have it. I am hoping that I maybe able to go back to the Harvard Med. Here in Boston and work myway through. Other chaps have done it and I'm sure I can. And afterthat--well, after that I must take my chance at finding a location anda practice, like any other young M. D. But first of all, Mary, I wantyou to tell me that you will wait for me. It's a lot to ask; I know howmuch. But will you, Mary dear? That's what I've come here for--to getyou to say that you will. After that I can face anything--yes, and winout, too. "

Mary looked at him. His face was aglow with earnestness and his voiceshook as he finished speaking. He rose and held out his hands. 

"Will you, Mary?" he begged. 

She looked at him no longer. She was afraid to do so--afraid of her ownweakness. But no sign of that weakness showed itself in her tone as sheanswered. 

"I'm sorry, Crawford, " she said, gently. "I wish I could, but I can't. "

"Can't! Can't wait for me?"

"I could wait for you, it isn't that. If it were merely a question ofwaiting--if that were all--how easy it would be! But it isn't. Crawford, you must go back to your father. You must go back to him and forget allabout me. You must. "

He stared at her for a moment. Then he laughed. 

"Forget you!" he repeated. "Mary, are you--"

"Oh, please, Crawford! Don't make this any harder for both of us than ithas to be. You must go back to your father and you must forget me. I cannot marry you, I can't. "

He came toward her. 

"But, Mary, " he cried, "I--I--Of course I know you can't--now. I knowhow you feel about your duty to your uncles. I know they need you. I amnot asking that you leave them. I ask only that you say you will waituntil--until by and by, when--"

"Please, Crawford! No, I can't. "

"Mary! You--Oh, but you must say it! Don't tell me you don't love me!"

She was silent. He put his hands upon her shoulders. She could feel themtremble. 

"Don't you love me, Mary?" he repeated. "Look up! Look at me! DON'T youlove me?"

She did not look up, but she shook her head. 

"No, Crawford, " she said. "I'm afraid not. Not enough. "

She heard him catch his breath, and she longed--Oh, how she longed!--tothrow her arms about him, tell him that it was all a lie, that she didlove him. But she forced herself not to think of her own love, only ofthose whom she loved and what disgrace and shame and misery would comeupon them if she yielded. 

"Not enough?" she heard him repeat slowly. "You--you don't love me? Oh, Mary!"

She shook her head. 

"I am sorry, Crawford, " she said. "I can't tell you how sorry. Please--please don't think hardly of me, not too hardly. I wish--I wishit were different. "

Neither spoke for a moment. Then he said:

"I'm afraid I don't understand. Is there someone else?"

"Oh, no, no! There isn't anyone. "

"Then--But you told me--You have let me think--"

"Please! I told you I was not sure of my own feelings. I--I am surenow. I am so sorry you came. I should have written you. I had begun theletter. "

Again silence. Then he laughed, a short, bitter laugh with anything butmirth in it. 

"I am a fool, " he said. "WHAT a fool I have been!"

"Please, Crawford, don't speak so. . . . Oh, where are you going?"

"I? I don't know. What difference does it make where I go? Good-by. "

"Stop, Crawford! Wait! It makes a difference to your father where yougo. It makes a difference to me. I--I value your friendship very highly. I hoped I might keep that. I hoped you would let me be your friend, eventhough the other could not be. I hoped that. "

The minute before she had asked him to forget her, but she did notremember that, nor did he. He was standing by the door, looking out. Fora moment he stood there. Then he turned and held out his hand. 

"Forgive me, Mary, " he said. "I have behaved like a cad, I'm afraid. When a fellow has been building air castles and all at once they tumbledown upon his head he--well, he is likely to forget other things. Forgive me. "

She took his hand. She could keep back the tears no longer; her eyesfilled. 

"There is nothing for me to forgive, " she said. "If you will forgive me, that is all I ask. And--and let me still be your friend. "

"Of course. Bless you, Mary! I--I can't talk any more now. You'll--"with an attempt at a smile--"you'll have to give me a little time to getmy bearings, as your Uncle Shad would say. "

"And--and won't you go back to your father? I shall feel so much happierif you do. "

He hesitated. Then he nodded. 

"If you wish it--yes, " he said. "I suppose it is the thing I ought todo. Dad will be happy, at any rate. Oh, Mary, CAN'T you?"

"No, Crawford, no. Yes, your father will be happy. And--and by and byyou will be, too, I know. Are you going?"

"Yes, I think I had better. I don't feel like meeting anyone and yourUncle Shad will be here soon, I suppose. Your man here--Isaiah--told meof Mr. Hamilton's sickness. I'm sorry. "

"Yes, poor Uncle Zoeth! He is gaining a little, however. Crawford, Iwon't ask you to stay. Perhaps it will be best for both of us if you donot. But won't you write me just once more? Just to tell me that you andyour father are reconciled? I should like to know that. And do forgiveme--Oh, do! I HAD to say it, Crawford!"

"I forgive you, Mary. Of course you had to say it. . . . But . . . Well, never mind. Yes, I'll write, of course. I hope . . . No, I can't saythat, not now. I'd better go at once, I think, before I . . . Good-by. "

He seized her hand, pressed it tightly, took his hat from the table andhis bag from the floor and swung out of the door. In the doorway shestood looking after him. At the gate he turned, waved his hand, andhurried on. He did not look back again. 

When at half-past six Captain Shadrach, having left Annabel and the boyin charge of the store, came home for supper, Isaiah had some news totell him. It was surprising news. 

"You don't say!" exclaimed the Captain. "Well, well, I want to know! Allthe way from out West, eh? Sho! Where is he now?"

Isaiah shook his head. "That's the funny part of it, he's gone, " hesaid. 

"Gone? Gone where?"

"I don't know. All I know is he come and said he wanted to seeMary-'Gusta--I went up and told her and she come down to see him. Istayed up along of Zoeth until Debby T. Came back from her shoppin'cruise. Then I come downstairs again and his hat and bag was gone. Therewan't nobody here. "

"Where was Mary-'Gusta? Where is she now?"

"Up in her room, I cal'late. I heard her movin' round there a spellago. "

Shadrach went up the stairs, along the hall, and knocked at Mary's door. 

"Who is it?" asked a faint voice within. 

"It's your Uncle Shad, Mary-'Gusta. Can I come in?"

"Yes. "

He entered. There was no lamp and the room was dark. 

"Where are you?" he demanded. 

"Here, by the window, Uncle Shad. "

She was sitting in the rocker by the window. He could not see her face, but as he bent and kissed her cheek he found it wet. 

"Mercy on us! You've been cryin'!" he declared. 

"Oh--Oh, no, I haven't! I--"

"Rubbish! Yes, you have, too. Settin' alone up here in the dark andcryin'! Mary-'Gusta Lathrop, come here!"

She had risen from the rocking-chair, but he seized her in his arms, satdown in the chair himself, and lifted her to his knee just as he used todo when she was the little Mary-'Gusta. 

"Now there, dearie, " he said. "You'll tell your Uncle Shad. What is it?"

"Oh, nothing, Uncle Shad, dear. I was--I'm feeling just a little sillythis afternoon, I guess. You mustn't ask me. "

"All right, I won't ask--I'll tell. That young feller from out West, the feller with the uncommon name--Brown--Jones--Oh, no, Smith, that wasit--he came cruisin' around here and--"

"Uncle Shad, how did you know?"

"A little bird told me. A long-legged bird without much hair on top--abald-headed eagle, I cal'late he must be. Hops round our kitchendaytimes and roosts in the attic nights. "

"Isaiah! Of course he would tell. "

"Of course he would--BEIN' Isaiah. Well, this Smith critter, he cameand--and--well, I guess you'll have to tell me the rest. "

"There isn't much to tell. He came and--and then he went away again. "

"Went away--where?"

"Out to Carson City, I suppose. "

"Ain't he comin' back any more?"

"No. "

"Why? Don't you want him to come, Mary-'Gusta?"

"Oh, Uncle Shad, please don't. I don't feel as if I could answer. Don'task me. "

"There, there, dearie; don't you answer nothin'. You set still here andbe my baby. I ain't had a chance to baby you for a long spell and itseems good. "

Silence. Suddenly the Captain felt the head which nestled against hisshoulder stir. 

"Uncle Shadrach, " said Mary-'Gusta, "what do you do when you want toforget?"

"Eh? Want to forget? Oh, I don't know! Cal'late I turn to and sail inand work a little harder, maybe. Why?"

"Oh, nothing. . . But I am much obliged for the suggestion. Now I amgoing to work. I shall begin tomorrow morning. I wish it was tomorrowright now. "

"Don't. Jumpin' fire! Don't wish time away; some of us ain't got toomuch to spare. But ain't you BEEN workin', for mercy sakes? I should sayyou had. "

Another interval of silence. Then Mary said:

"Uncle Shad, a good while ago, when you asked me about--about him, Ipromised you I would tell when there was anything to tell. I am going tokeep my promise. He came today and asked me--asked me to marry him--notnow, of course, but by and by. "

Shadrach was not greatly surprised. Nevertheless it was a moment beforehe spoke. Mary felt his arms tighten about her and she realized a littleof the struggle he was making. Yet his tone was brave and cheerful. 

"Yes, " he said. "Well, I--I kind of cal'lated that would come some dayor other. It's all right, Mary-'Gusta. Zoeth and me have talked it overand all we want is to see you happy. If you said yes to him, Zoeth andI'll say 'God bless you' to both of you. "

She reached for his hand and lifted it to her lips. "I know you would, "she said. "All your lives you have been thinking of others and notof yourselves. But I didn't say yes, Uncle Shad. I am not going to bemarried now or by and by. I don't want to be. I am the silent partnerof Hamilton and Company. I am a business woman and I am going towork--REALLY work--from now on. No, you mustn't ask me any morequestions. We'll try to forget it all. Kiss me, Uncle Shad, dear. That's it. Now you go down to supper. I shall stay here; I am not hungrytonight. "

CHAPTER XXVI

Captain Shad did ask more questions, of course. He asked no more thatevening--he judged it wisest not to do so; but the next day, seizing anopportunity when he and his niece were alone, he endeavored to learn alittle more concerning her reasons for dismissing Crawford. The Captainliked young Smith, he had believed Mary liked him very much, and, although he could not help feeling a guilty sense of relief because thedanger that he and Zoeth might have to share her affections with someoneelse was, for the time at least, out of the way, he was puzzled andtroubled by the abruptness of the dismissal. There was something, hefelt sure, which he did not understand. 

"Of course, Mary-'Gusta, " he said, "I ain't askin' anything--that is, I don't mean to put my oar in about what you told me last night, but--well, you see, Zoeth and me was beginnin' to feel that 'twas prettynigh a settled thing between you and that young man. "

Mary was sitting at the desk--she and her uncle were at the storetogether--and she looked up from the ledger over which she had beenbending and shook her head reproachfully. She looked tired and worn, soit seemed to Captain Shadrach, as if she had not slept well the nightbefore, or perhaps for several nights. 

"Uncle Shad, " she said, "what did I tell you?"

"Eh? Why, you told me--You know what you told me, Mary-'Gusta. What doyou ask that for?"

"Because I think you have forgotten the most important part of it. Itold you we were going to forget it all. And we are. We are not going tospeak of it again. "

"But, Mary-'Gusta, why--"

"No, Uncle Shad. "

"But do just tell me this much; if you don't I shan't rest in peace: youdidn't send him away on account of Zoeth and me? It wan't just becauseyou thought we needed you?"

"No, Uncle Shad. "

"Then--"

"That's all. It's over with; it's done with forever. If you really careabout me, Uncle Shad--and sometimes, you know, I almost suspect thatyou really do--you will never, NEVER say another word about it. Now comehere and tell me about this account of Heman Rodger's. Isn't it time wetried to get a payment from him?"

The Captain, although still uneasy and far from satisfied, asked no morequestions of his niece. It was evident that nothing was to be gained inthat way. He did, however, question Isaiah to learn if the latter hadnoticed anything unusual in Crawford's manner or if Crawford had saidanything concerning his reason for coming on at that time, but Isaiahhad noticed nothing. 

"Umph!" grunted Shadrach, rather impatiently, for the mystery in theaffair irritated him. "Of course, you didn't notice. YOU wouldn't noticeif your head came off. "

Mr. Chase drew himself up. "If I hove out such a statement as that, " heobserved, scornfully, "you'd call me a fool. 'If my head come off!' Howcould I notice anything if my head was off? You tell me that!"

His employer grinned. "I cal'late you could do it about as well as youcan with it on, Isaiah, " he said, and walked away, leaving the cook andsteward incoherently anxious to retort but lacking ammunition. 

So Shadrach was obliged to give up the riddle. Lovers' quarrels wereby no means unusual, he knew that, and many young love affairs came tonothing. Mary had never told him that she cared for Crawford. But shehad never said she did not care for him. And now she would say nothingexcept that it was "done with forever. " The Captain shook his head andlonged for Zoeth's counsel and advice. But Zoeth would not be able tocounsel or advise for months. 

And now Mary seemed bent upon proving the truth of her statement thatshe was henceforth to be solely a business woman. The summer beingover--and it had been, everything considered, a successful one forHamilton and Company--it became time to buy fall and winter goods, alsogoods for the holidays. Mary went to Boston on a buying expedition. Whenshe returned and informed her uncle what and how much she had bought, he looked almost as if he had been listening to the reading of his deathwarrant. 

"Jumpin' Judas!" he exclaimed. "You don't mean to tell me you bought allthem things and--and got TRUSTED for 'em?"

"Of course I did, Uncle Shad. It is the only way I could buy them; and, so far as that goes, everyone was glad to sell me. You see, our payingour bills up there in a shorter time than I asked for has made a verygood impression. I could have bought ever and ever so much more if I hadthought it best. "

"Jumpin' fire! Well, I'm glad you didn't think it best. What in thenation we're goin' to do with all we have got I don't see. "

"Do with it? Why, sell it, of course. "

"Urn--yes, I cal'lated that was the idea, probably; but who's goin' tobuy it?"

"Oh, lots of people. You'll see. I am going to advertise this fall, advertise in the papers. Oh, we'll make Baker's Bazaar and the restworry a little before we're through. "

The Captain was inclined to fear that the most of the worrying wouldbe done by Hamilton and Company, but he expressed no more misgivings. Besides, if anyone could sell all those goods, that one was hisMary-'Gusta, he was perfectly sure of that. He believed her quitecapable of performing almost any miracle. Had she not pulled the firmoff the rocks where he and his partner had almost wrecked it? Wasn'tshe the most wonderful young woman on earth? Old as he was, Captain Shadwould probably have attempted to thrash any person who expressed a doubtof that. 

And the goods were sold, all of them and more. The advertisements, temptingly worded, appeared in the county weeklies, and circularswere sent through the mails. Partly by enterprise and partly throughinfluence--Mr. Keith helped here--Mary attained for Hamilton and Companythe contract for supplying the furniture and draperies for the new hotelwhich a New York syndicate was building at Orham Neck. It was purelya commission deal, of course--everything was purchased in Boston--andHamilton and Company's profit was a percentage, but even a smallpercentage on so large a sale made a respectable figure on a check andhelped to pay more of the firm's debts. And those debts, the old ones, were now reduced to an almost negligible quantity. 

The secondhand horse and wagon still continued to go upon their rounds, but the boy had been replaced by an active young fellow whose name wasCrocker and who was capable of taking orders as well as delivering them. When Captain Shadrach was told--not consulted concerning but told--thewages this young man was to receive, he was, as he confided to Isaiahafterward, "dismasted, stove in, down by the head and sinkin' fast. "

"Mary-'Gusta Lathrop!" he cried, in amazement. "Are you goin' starkloony? Payin' that Simmie Crocker fourteen dollars a WEEK for drivin'team and swappin' our good sugar and flour for sewin'-circle lies overfolks' back fences! I never heard such a thing in my life. Why, Baker'sBazaar don't pay the man on their team but ten a week. I know that'cause he told me so himself. And Baker's Bazaar's got more trade thanwe have. "

"Yes. And that is exactly why we need a better man than they have, sothat WE can get more trade. Simeon Crocker is an ambitious young chap. He isn't going to be contented with fourteen long. "

"Oh, he ain't, eh? Well, I ain't contented with it now, I tell you that. Fourteen dollars a week for drivin' cart! Jumpin' fire! Why, the cartitself ain't worth more'n fifteen and for twenty-five I'd heave in thehorse for good measure. But I'd never get the chance, " he added, "unlessI could make the trade in the dark. "

Mary laughed and patted his shoulder. 

"Never mind, Uncle Shad, " she said, confidently, "Sim Crocker atfourteen a week is a good investment. He will get us a lot of newbusiness now, and next summer--well, I have some plans of my own fornext summer. "

The Christmas business was very good indeed. Shadrach, Mary, Annabel, and Simeon were kept busy. Customers came, not only from South Harniss, but from West and East Harniss and even from Orham and Bayport. Thenewspaper advertisements were responsible for this in the beginning, butthose who first came told others that the best stock of Christmas goodsin Ostable County was to be found at the store of Hamilton and Company, in South Harniss, and so the indirect, word-of-mouth advertising, whichis the best and most convincing kind, spread and brought results. 

Christmas itself was a rather dreary day. Zoeth, although improving, was not yet strong enough to leave his room, and so the Christmas dinnerlacked his presence at the table. Mary and Shadrach sat with him for anhour or so, but the doctor and nurse had cautioned them against excitinghim, so, although the Captain joked continually, his jokes wererather fickle and in his mind was his partner's prophecy of two yearsbefore--that the tide which had, up to that time, been coming in forthem, would soon begin to go out. Shadrach could not help feeling thatit had been going out, for poor Zoeth at any rate. The doctor declaredit was coming in again, but how slowly it came! And how far would itcome? This was the first Christmas dinner he had eaten in years withoutseeing Mr. Hamilton's kindly, patient face at the other side of thetable. 

And Mary, although she tried to appear gay and lighthearted, laughing ather uncle's jokes and attempting a few of her own, was far from happy. Work, Captain Shad's recipe for producing forgetfulness, had helped, butit had not cured. And when, as on a holiday like this, or at nightafter she had gone to bed, there was no work to occupy her mind, sheremembered only too well. Crawford had written her, as he promised, after his return home. He wrote that he and his father were reconciledand that he had resumed his studies. The letter was brave and cheerful, there was not a hint of whining or complaint in it. Mary was proud ofhim, proud of his courage and self-restraint. She could read between thelines and the loneliness and hopelessness were there but he had done hisbest to conceal them for her sake. If he felt resentment toward her, hedid not show it. Lonely and hopeless as she herself was, her heart wentout to him, but she did not repent her decision. It was better, ever andever so much better, as it was. He would forget and be happy by and by, and would never know his father's shameful story. And poor Uncle Zoethwould never know, either. As for her--well, she must work, work harderthan ever. Thank God there were six working days in the week!

She did not answer that letter. After much deliberation she fought downthe temptation and decided not to do so. What was the use? If one wishedto forget, or wished someone else to forget, if it was a real wish andnot merely pretending, the way to bring about that result was to donothing to cause remembrance. Letters, even the letters of friends, themost platonic letters, were reminders. She had begged for Crawford'sfriendship--she could not bring herself to let him go without hearingthat he forgave her and would think of her as a friend--but now shevowed she would not be so silly and childish as to torture him orherself unnecessarily. She would not do it. And so she did not write. 

After Christmas came the long, dull winter. It was the most discouragingseason the silent partner of Hamilton and Company had yet put in inher capacity as manager. There were no cottagers to help out with theircustom, very few new customers, no fresh faces in the store, the samedreary, deadly round from morning till night. She tried her hardestand, with the able assistance of Sim Crocker who was proving himself atreasure, did succeed in making February's sales larger than January'sand those of March larger than either. But she looked forward to Apriland the real spring with impatience. She had a plan for the spring. 

It was in March that she experienced a great satisfaction and gaveShadrach the surprise and delight of his life by collecting the firm'sbill against Mr. Jeremiah Clifford. Mr. Clifford, it will be remembered, had owed Hamilton and Company one hundred and ten dollars for a longtime. There was every indication that he was perfectly satisfied withthe arrangement and intended to owe it forever. Mary had written, hadcalled upon him repeatedly, had even journeyed to Ostable and consultedher friend Judge Baxter. The Judge had promised to look into the matterand he did so, but his letter to her contained little that was hopeful. 

There is money there [wrote the Judge]. The man Clifford appears tobe in very comfortable circumstances, but he is a shrewd [there wereindications here that the word "rascal" had been written and thenerased] person and, so far as I can learn, there is not a single item ofproperty, real or otherwise, that is in his own name. If there were, we might attach that property for your debt, but we cannot attach Mrs. Clifford's holdings. All I can advise is to discontinue selling him moregoods and to worry him all you can about the old bill. He may grow tiredof being dunned and pay, if not all, at least something on account. 

When Mary read this portion of the letter to her Uncle Shadrach hisscorn was outspoken. 

"Get tired!" he scoffed. "Jerry Clifford get tired of bein' dunned!DON'T talk so foolish! Why, he gets fat on that kind of thing; it'sthe main excitement he has, that and spendin' a cent twice a day fornewspapers. Did you ever watch Jerry buy a paper? No? Well, you go up toEllis's some day when the mornin' papers are put out for sale and watchhim. He'll drive up to the door with that old hoopskirt of a horseof his--that's what the critter looks like, one of them old-fashionedhoop-skirts; there was nothin' to them but framework and a hollowinside, and that's all there is to that horse. --Well, Jerry he'll driveup and come in to the paper counter, his eyes shinin' and his nerves allkeyed up and one hand shoved down into his britches pocket. He'll standand look over the papers on the counter, readin' as much of every oneas he can for nothin', and then by and by that hand'll come out of hispocket with a cent in it. Then the other hand'll reach over and get holdof the paper he's cal'latin' to buy, get a good clove hitch onto it, andthen for a minute he'll stand there lookin' first at the cent and thenat the paper and rubbin' the money between his finger and thumb--he'sfiggerin' to have a little of the copper smell left on his hand even ifhe has to let go of the coin, you see--and--"

Mary laughed. 

"Uncle Shad, " she exclaimed, "what ridiculous nonsense you do talk!"

"No nonsense about it. It's dead serious. It ain't any joke to Jerry, you can bet on that. Well, after a spell, he kind of gets his spunk upto make the plunge, as you might say, lays down the penny--Oh, henever throws it down; he wouldn't treat real money as disrespectfulas that--grabs up the paper and makes a break for outdoors, never oncelookin' back for fear he might change his mind. When he drives off inhis buggy you can see that he's all het up and trembly, like one of themreckless Wall Street speculators you read about. He's spent a cent, but he's had a lovely nerve-wrackin' time doin' it. Oh, a feller hasto satisfy his cravin' for excitement somehow, and Jerry satisfies hisbuyin' one-cent newspapers and seein' his creditors get mad. Do yousuppose you can worry such a critter as that by talkin' to him aboutwhat he owes? Might as well try to worry a codfish by leanin' over therail of the boat and hollerin' to it that it's drownin'. "

Mary laughed again. "I'm afraid you may be right, Uncle Shad, " she said, "but I shan't give up hope. My chance may come some day, if I wait andwatch for it. "

It came unexpectedly and in a rather odd manner. One raw, windy Marchafternoon she was very much surprised to see Sam Keith walk into thestore. Sam, since his graduation from college, was, as he expressed it, "moaning on the bar" in Boston--that is to say, he was attending theHarvard Law School with the hope, on his parents' part, that he mightultimately become a lawyer. 

"Why, Sam!" exclaimed Mary. "Is this you?"

Sam grinned cheerfully. "'Tis I, " he declared. "I am here. That isto say, the handsome youth whose footfalls you hear approaching uponhorseback is none other than our hero. Mary, you are, as usual, a sightto be thankful for. How do you do?"

Mary admitted that she was in good health and then demanded to know whathe was doing down on the Cape at that time of the year. He sat down ina chair by the stove and propped his feet against the hearth beforereplying. 

"Why! Haven't you guessed?" he asked, in mock amazement. "Dear me! I'msurprised. I should have thought the weather would have suggested myerrand. Hear that zephyr; doesn't it suggest bathing suits and outingflannels and mosquitoes and hammock flirtations? Eh?"

The zephyr was a sixty-mile-an-hour March gale. Sam replied to his ownquestion. 

"Answer, " he said, "it does not. Right, my child; go up head. But, honest Injun, I am down here on summer business. That Mr. Raymond, Dad'sfriend, who was visiting us this summer is crazy about the Cape. Hehas decided to build a summer home here at South Harniss, and the firstrequisite being land to build it on he has asked Dad to buy the stripbetween our own property and the North Inlet, always provided it can bebought. Dad asked me to come down here and see about it, so here I am. "

Mary considered. "Oh, yes, " she said, after a moment, "I know the landyou mean. Who owns it?"

"That's what I didn't know, " said Sam. "But I do know now. I asked thefirst person I met after I got off the train and oddly enough he turnedout to be the owner himself. It was old Clifford--Isaiah, Elisha, Hosea--Jeremiah, that's it. I knew it was one of the prophets. "

"So Mr. Clifford owns that land. I didn't know that. "

"Neither did I. He didn't tell me at first that he did own it. Asked mewhat I wanted to know for. "

"Did you tell him?" asked Mary. 

For the first time since Mr. Keith's arrival that young gentleman's easyassurance seemed a little shaken. He appeared to feel rather foolish. 

"Why, yes, to be honest, I did, " he admitted. "I was an idiot, Isuppose, but everyone asks about everyone's else business down here andI didn't think. He kept talking and pumping and before I realized it Itold him about Raymond's being so anxious to get that property, beingdead set on it and all that, and about my being commissioned to buyat any reasonable figure. And then, after a while, he astonished me bysaying he owned the land himself. Confound it! I suppose he'll jam theprice away up after what I told him. "

"Oh, then you haven't bought?"

"Not yet. I was willing, but for some reason he wouldn't sell atonce--wouldn't even talk price. Wanted to think it over, he said. Ican't wait now, but I am coming down again on Monday and we shall closethe deal then. "

That evening Mary told Shadrach what Sam had said. The Captain lookedpuzzled. 

"I didn't know Jerry Clifford owned that land, " he said. "I don'tbelieve he does. "

"Of course he does, Uncle Shad. He wouldn't have told Sam he did own itif he didn't. What in the world would he gain by that?"

"Why, nothin', I presume likely. But he must have bought it mightyrecent. Last I heard Jimmie G. Owned that piece. 'Twas part of theproperty his father left him. Next time I see Jimmie I'll ask him. "

So, three days later, when Jimmie G. --his last name was Peters--passedthe store the Captain hailed him and, inviting him in, went straight tothe point. 

"When did you sell Jerry Clifford that North Inlet land of yours, Jim?"he asked. 

Jimmie G. Looked surprised. "How in time did you know I had sold it?" hedemanded. "It beats all how things get around in this town. I never soldthat land until day afore yesterday evenin' and the deed didn't passtill yesterday, and yet you know the whole business. Not that I care;'twas Jerry wanted it kept still. Who told you?"

Captain Shad whistled. "I see, " he said slowly. "I see. Yes, yes. WhenJerry told Sam he owned that land he . . . Humph! It's just another caseof the boy lied, that's all. Tut, tut, tut! When you get ahead of JerryClifford you've got to turn out early, ain't you? I hope you got a goodprice for the land, Jim. "

"Well, I didn't; that is, not very big. What's up, anyway? What are youhintin' at, Cap'n Shad?"

Before the Captain could answer, Mary, who had been listening to theconversation, broke in to ask a question. 

"Mr. Peters, " she cried eagerly, "would you mind telling me this: Whosename is the new deed in, Mr. Clifford's or his wife's?"

Jimmie G. Laughed. "Why, that was kind of funny, too, " he said. "Youknow Jerry, Cap'n Shad; he never has nothin' in his own name--it's allin his wife's. That's a principle of his. "

"I'd call it a lack of principle, " grunted Shadrach. "Never mind, Jim;go on. "

"But he was in a terrible rush to close the sale, for some reason orother, " went on Peters, "and I forgot, myself, and had the deed made inthe name of Jeremiah Clifford. He made a big row at first, but it seemedas if he couldn't wait for me to have it changed, so he handed over hischeck and--"

"Wait! Wait, please, Mr. Peters!" broke in Mary, her eyes flashing withexcitement. "Just tell me if I understand you correctly. You sold thatland to Mr. Clifford and he owns it now IN HIS OWN NAME?"

"Why, yes--sartin. "

Mary waited to hear no more. She ran out of the store and to thepost-office. A few minutes later she was talking with Judge Baxter overthe telephone. When she returned the Captain was curious to know whereshe had been, but she would not tell him. 

"Wait, " she said. "Wait, Uncle Shad; I think something is going tohappen. "

It happened on Monday morning. Mary was at the desk; Simeon was in theback room getting ready his early morning orders, and Captain Shad wasstanding by the window looking out. Suddenly Mary heard him utter anexclamation. 

"What is the matter?" she asked. 

"Oh, nothin'. "

"You spoke as if you were in pain. "

"No wonder. I'm lookin' at somethin' that gives me a pain. Thatwizened-up landshark of a Jerry Clifford is in sight, bound to thepost-office, I cal'late. Goin' to put a one-cent stamp on a letter andlet the feller that gets it pay the other cent, I suppose. He alwaysasks the postmaster to lick the stamp, so's to save the wear and tear onhis own tongue. That's a fact. . . . No, " he added, a moment later, "heain't goin' to the office; he's turnin' down the lane here. . . . Eh!Jumpin' fire of brimstone, I do believe--WHAT in the world?"

For Mr. Clifford's step was upon the platform of the store and inanother moment the door opened and the tight-fisted one himselfappeared. Shadrach said nothing; he could only stare in amazement. Ithad been more than two years since Jeremiah had crossed that threshold. 

But he crossed it now. And, after a look about the place, ignoring theCaptain completely, he walked over to the desk. He did not look happy. Mary, on the contrary, looked very much pleased. 

"Good morning, Mr. Clifford, " she said. 

Jeremiah, who was a little thin man, looked up at her from under hisheavy gray eyebrows and above his spectacles. He did not acknowledge thesalutation. 

"Umph!" he grunted savagely. "You think you're smart, don't ye?"

Shadrach started forward. 

"Why, you--" he began. Mary held up her hand. 

"Don't interfere, Uncle Shad, " she ordered. "This is Mr. Clifford'saffair and mine. We understand each other perfectly. " Then, turning tothe frowning Jeremiah, she said: "Why, yes, thank you, Mr. Clifford, Ido think I am rather clever--just now. Don't you think I am, yourself?"

Again the visitor ignored the question. 

"What did you go and stick an attachment on that land of mine for?" hedemanded. 

"Surely you don't need to ask me that, Mr. Clifford. The amount isone hundred and ten dollars and sixty-three cents. I remember it and Ishould imagine you must; certainly it has been called to your attentionoften enough. "

"Umph! Well, you can keep your darned old attachment. "

"Very well; and you can keep your land--what is left, I mean. I thinkyou will keep it for some time--after I tell Mr. Keith the facts. Hewill be here this afternoon, you know. "

It was evident that Jeremiah was quite aware of the time of Sam Keith'sarrival. His teeth--the few remaining--snapped together and, as CaptainShadrach said afterwards, he looked as if undecided whether to biteor put back his head and howl. Apparently he decided that howling wassafer. 

"I was cal'latin' to pay that bill of yours, anyhow, " he said. 

"Of course, and we were calculating that you would, " said Mary sweetly. "Your calculations and ours are proving true, Mr. Clifford. That's nice, isn't it?"

From the direction of the back room, where Simeon was busy with hisorders, came the sound of a smothered laugh. Shadrach, upon whomunderstanding of the situation was just beginning to dawn, slapped hisknee. Mr. Clifford looked positively venomous. 

"If I pay that bill--that--what was it?--that hundred and ten dollarsyou say I owe you--do I get that attachment off my land right away?" hedemanded. 

"If you pay the one hundred and ten dollars--and the sixty-threecents--I shall phone Judge Baxter the next minute, " said Mary promptly. 

Jeremiah hesitated no longer. He had considered the situation in all itsphases before leaving home and the one hundred and ten dollars was buta small item compared to his expected profit on the sale of the NorthInlet land. He reached into his pocket, produced a long, dingy leatherpocketbook wound about with twine, unwound the twine, opened thepocketbook and produced a blank check. 

"Give me a pen and ink, " he snarled, "and I'll fill this in. "

The Captain reached for the pen and ink bottle, but Mary interfered. 

"Cash, if you please, " she said sweetly. 

Jeremiah looked at her steadily for what seemed a long time. Then shewas surprised to see the corner of his lip twitch and notice a grimtwinkle in his eye. Also there was a grudging note of admiration in hisvoice when he next spoke. 

"Ain't takin' no chances, be you?" he said dryly. 

"No. Don't you think we've taken enough already?"

Mr. Clifford did not answer. He replaced the blank check in hispocketbook and, from another compartment, extracted some bills rolled ina tight little cylinder and wound about with elastic. 

"There you be, " he said shortly. Then, turning to Shadrach, he added:"Don't I get nothin' off for payin' cash?"

From the back room came a vigorous "Haw, haw!" Even Mary laughed aloud. As for Captain Shad, he could only stare, struck speechless by hisvisitor's audacity. Mary, when she had finished laughing, answered forhim. 

"We shall deduct the interest we might have charged you, Mr. Clifford, "she said. "Thank you. There is your change and there is the receiptedbill. Now, I shall call up Judge Baxter. "

When she returned from the post-office Jeremiah was still there. Shadrach, all smiles, was doing up parcels. 

"What are those, Uncle Shad?" asked Mary. Mr. Clifford answered. 

"Oh, I thought I might as well buy a little sugar and flour and such, "he said. "Always come in handy, they do. Send 'em up when you get to it. Good-by. "

His hand was on the door, but Mary called to him. 

"Mr. Clifford, " she called; "just a minute, please. Are you in any hurryfor these things--the sugar and the rest of it?"

"No, don't know's I be, 'special'; why?"

"Oh, nothing, except that if you were in a hurry I should advise yourpaying for them. I told you, you remember, that we weren't takingchances. "

For an instant Jeremiah stood there glowering. Then he did anotherastonishing thing. He took out the pocketbook once more and from itextracted a two-dollar bill. 

"Take it out of that, " he said, "and send me a receipted billafterwards. I always cal'late to know what I've paid for. And say, you--what's your name--Mary-'Gusta, if you get tired of workin' for ShadGould and Zoeth Hamilton, come round and see me. I've got--I mean mywife's got--two or three mortgages that's behind on the interest. Iain't been able to collect it for her yet, but--but, by time, I believeYOU could!"

He went out and the next moment Mary was almost smothered in her uncle'sembrace. 

"After this--after THIS, " roared Shadrach, "I'll believe anything'spossible if you've got a hand in it, Mary-'Gusta. If YOU'D been Jonahyou'd have put the whale in your pocket and swum ashore. "

CHAPTER XXVII

Early in April, when Mary announced that she was ready to put intooperation her biggest and most ambitious plan, suggested the year beforeby Barbara Howe--the tea-room and gift-shop plan--the Captain did notoffer strenuous opposition. 

"I can't see much sense in it, " he admitted. "I don't know's I know whatit's all about. Nigh as I can make out you're figgerin' to open up somekind of a high-toned eatin' house. Is that it?"

"Why, no, Uncle Shad, not exactly, " explained Mary. 

"Then what is it--a drinkin' house? I presume likely that's it, bein'as you call it a 'tea-room. ' Kind of a temperance saloon, eh? Can't afeller get coffee in it, if he wants to? I don't wake up nights muchhankerin' for tea myself. "

"Listen, Uncle Shad: A tea-room--at least a tearoom of the sort Iintend to have--is a place where the summer people, the women and girlsespecially, will come and sit at little tables and drink tea andeat cakes and ice cream and look off at the ocean, if the weather ispleasant--"

"Yes, and at the fog, if 'tain't; and talk about their neighbor'sclothes and run down the characters of their best friends. Yes, yes, Isee; sort of a sewin' circle without the sewin'. All right, heave aheadand get your tea-room off the ways if you want to. If anybody can makethe thing keep afloat you can, Mary-'Gusta. "

So Mary, thus encouraged, went on to put her scheme into effect. Shehad been planning the details for some time. About halfway down the laneleading to the house from the store was another small story-and-a-halfdwelling of the old-fashioned Cape Cod type. It stood upon a little hilland commanded a wide view of ocean and beach and village. There weresome weather-beaten trees and a tangle of shrubs about it. It had beenuntenanted for a good while and was in rather bad repair. 

Mary arranged with the owner, a Bayport man, to lease this house andland at a small rental for three years. In the lease was includedconsent to the making of necessary alterations and repairs and theprivilege of purchasing, at a price therein named, at the end of thethree years, should the tenant wish to do so. 

Then with the aid of soap and water, white paint and whitewash, attractive but inexpensive wall papers, and odds and ends of quaint oldfurniture, of which the parlor and best bedroom of the Gould-Hamiltonhome supplied the larger quantity, she proceeded to make over theinterior of the little building. To every bit of nautical bric-a-brac, pictures of old sailing ships and sea curios she gave especialprominence. Then the lawn was mowed, the tangled shrubbery untangledand clipped and pruned; cheap but pretty lattices made to look like theshrouds of a ship, over which climbing roses were supposed--some day--totwine, were placed against the walls, and rustic tables set about underthe trees and the grape arbor with ship lanterns hung above them. Thedriveway down to the lane was rolled and hardened, and a sign, paintedby Joshua Bemis, the local "House, Boat and Sign Painter, Tinsmith andGlazier"--see Mr. Bemis's advertisement in the Advocate--was hung on aframe by the gateway. 

Captain Shad's remarks when he first saw that sign may be worth quoting. Mary had not consulted him concerning it; she deemed it best not to doso. When it was in place, however, she led him out to inspect. Shadrachadjusted his spectacles and read as follows:

 THE FOR'ARD LOOKOUT TEA AND GIFTS DAINTY THINGS TO EAT PRETTY THINGS TO BUY ALL'S WELL!

There was the picture of a full-rigged ship, with every stitch set alowand aloft, sailing through a sea of thick green and white paint toward akind of green wall with green feather dusters growing out of it. 

Shadrach subjected this work of art to a long and searching stare. Atlast he spoke. 

"Carryin' every rag she can h'ist, " he observed; "nobody at the wheel, land dead ahead and breakers under the bows. Looks to me as if 'twasliable to be a short v'yage and a lively one. But the for'ard lookoutsays all's well and he ought to know; he's had more experience aboardgift-shop ships, I presume likely, than I have. What's those bristlythings stickin' up along shore there--eel grass or tea grounds?"

For the first few weeks after the tea-room was really "off the ways" theoptimistic declaration of the For'ard Lookout seemed scarcely warrantedby the facts. Mary was inclined to think that all was by no means well. In fitting out the new venture she had been as economical as shedared, but she had been obliged to spend money and to take on a freshassortment of debts. Then, too, she had engaged the services of a goodcook and two waitresses, so there was a weekly expense bill to consider. And the number of motor cars which turned in at the new driveway wasdisappointingly small. 

But the number grew larger. As people had talked about Hamilton andCompany's assortment of Christmas goods, so now they began to talk aboutthe "quaintness and delightful originality" of the For'ard Lookout. Thetea was good; the cakes and ices were good; on pleasant days theview was remarkably fine, and the pretty things in the gift shop weretemptingly displayed. So, as May passed and June came, and the cottagesand hotels began to open, the business of the new tea-room and gift shopgrew from fair to good and from that to very good indeed. 

Mary divided her time between the store and the tearoom, doing her bestto keep a supervising eye on each. She was in no mood to meet people andkept out of the way of strangers as much as possible; even of her formeracquaintances who came to the For'ard Lookout she saw but few. If shehad not been too busy she might have found it amusing, the contrastingstudies in human nature afforded by these former acquaintances in theirattitude toward her. 

For instance, Mr. And Mrs. Christopher Mullet and daughter, Irene, thelatter now through school and "finished" until her veneering actuallyglittered, sat drinking tea at a table on the lawn. Said Mrs. Mullet:

"And THIS is what it's come to; after all the airs and frills and thegoin' to Europe and I don't know what all. Here she is keepin' an eatin'house. An eatin' house--just THINK of it! If that ain't a comedown!Wouldn't you think she'd be ashamed, 'Rena?"

Miss Mullet drooped a weary eyelid and sighed a hopeless sigh. 

"Oh, Mother, " she drawled, in deep disgust, "CAN'T you stop callingme by that outlandish name? I was christened Irene, I believe. PLEASEremember it. "

"All right, 'Re--all right, Irene; I won't forget again. Oh, there'sMary-'Gusta, now! Showin' herself out here with all these city folks, when she's nothin' but a hired help--a table girl, as you might say!I shan't notice her, anyway. I may buy her tea and stuff, but I--Who'sthat runnin' up to her and--and kissin' her--and--mercy on us! You'dthink they was sisters, if you didn't know. Who is it? Looks kind ofcommon, she does to me. Don't you think so, 'Rena--Irene, I mean?"

Irene sniffed. 

"That, " she said with cutting emphasis, "is Barbara Howe. Her peopleare building that big summer house at Osterville and her father is amillionaire, so they say. And her people wouldn't let her come to theschool you sent me to because they thought it wasn't good enough forher. That's how common SHE is. I met her once, but she doesn't knowme now, although she is perfectly crazy over that Mary Lathrop. I--Oh, there's Father drinking out of his saucer again! For heaven's sake, let's go home!"

And just then Barbara was enthusiastically hugging her former schoolmateand exclaiming:

"You did it! I knew you would if you would only try. I said it requireda knack or a genius or something and that I was certain you had it. It's the dearest place of the kind I've ever seen, my dear, and if everysingle person I know who is in this vicinity doesn't come here at leastonce a week and spend lots and lots of money I'll never speak to themagain. I'm going to turn myself into a walking phonograph, my dear, with just one record: 'If you love me visit the For'ard Lookout. ' And ofcourse everyone loves me--how can they help it? So--well, just wait andsee what happens. "

So far as spreading abroad the praises of the new tea-room wasconcerned, she was as good as her word. In August the patronage was sogreat and continuous that Mary found it necessary to hire three morewaitresses and a salesgirl for the gift shop. She spent more of her owntime there, leaving the care of the store to Shadrach, Simeon Crockerand a new clerk, who had been hired to help with the summer custom. Whenearly September brought the beginning of the season's end the booksof both the Lookout and of Hamilton and Company showed a substantialprofit. 

While all this was going on Zoeth was steadily gaining in health andstrength. In July he was sitting in the sunshine upon the front porch. In August he was able to climb to the buggy seat and be driven up to thestore, where day after day he sat in his armchair behind thecounter, watching what was going on, listening to his partner's happychatter--for Shadrach was in high spirits now--and occasionally saying aword or two himself. On pleasant Sundays he was driven to church and theCaptain and Mary accompanied him. He was white and frail and thin, but the doctor assured them that, so far as he could see, there was noreason to expect anything but a complete recovery. 

It did seem to Captain Shad, however, that his partner had somethingon his mind. He seemed often to be thinking deeply and at times to betroubled and disturbed. The Captain had never asked, never attempted byquestioning to learn what the cause of the trouble--provided there wasany--might be. He had been told often enough that the patient must notbe excited, so he meant to take no risks, but Zoeth's long silencesand the expression on his face as he sat there in the chair, evidentlythinking deeply, puzzled and worried his friend and partner. He noticedthe same expression at times when Mary was in the room. Zoeth's eyeswould follow her as she moved about and in them was the look the Captaincould not understand. 

Shadrach had told his friend of Mary's sending young Smith away. Zoethhad asked concerning Crawford almost as soon as he was permitted to takepart in a lengthy conversation. He appeared greatly interested, eveneager. 

"But, Shadrach, " he said, "are you sure she sent him away because shedidn't care for him? Are you sure that was the reason?"

"What other reason could there be?" demanded the Captain. "She as muchas told me that was it, herself. I was some surprised, of course, forI'd rather cal'lated 'twas as good as settled between 'em, but it turnedout that I didn't know what I was talkin' about. That HAS happened aforein my life, strange as it may seem, " he added dryly. 

Zoeth sighed. "I wish--" he said slowly, "I wish I knew--"

"What do you wish you knew?"

"Eh? Oh, nothin'. If--if I was only a little mite stronger I'd try totalk with Mary-'Gusta myself. I'd like--I'd like to have her tell meabout it. "

"Meanin' you don't believe me, eh? There, there, shipmate, it's allright. I was only jokin'. But I wouldn't ask Mary-'Gusta about that, ifI was you. Course I know she cares as much or more for her Uncle Zoeththan for anybody on earth, and she'd tell him anything if he askedher; but I don't believe--Well, I wouldn't ask, if I was you. Youunderstand?"

"Yes, yes, Shadrach, I think I understand. You mean she felt bad to haveto say--what she did say--to that young man and she wouldn't want to bereminded of it?"

"That's about it, Zoeth. "

Silence for some minutes. Both partners were occupied with theirthoughts. Then Zoeth said:

"Shadrach, I--I--"

He did not finish the sentence. The Captain ventured to remind him. 

"Yes, Zoeth, what is it?" he asked. 

"Nothin'. I--I can't tell you now. By and by, if the good Lord gives mestrength again, I'll--Never mind, now. Don't ask me, please. "

So Shadrach did not ask, but he was puzzled and a little anxious. Whatwas it his partner had to tell and found the telling so difficult?

CHAPTER XXVIII

It was not until a day in mid-September that Captain Shadrach learnedhis partner's secret. He and Zoeth and Mary were at the store together. Business was still good, but the rush was over. The summer cottageswere closing and most of the Cape hotels had already closed. The For'ardLookout had taken down its sign at the end of the previous week. Itsvoyage for that year was over. It had been a prosperous one. 

Mary was sorry that the busy season was at an end. She was very, verytired; she had allowed herself no rest, had taken no holidays, had doneher best to think of nothing except matters connected with Hamilton andCompany or the tea-room. These, fortunately, had given her enough tothink of; other thoughts she resolutely crowded from her mind. Now therewould be no tea-room to plan for, and, thanks to Sim Crocker and thecompetent way in which he had assumed care of the store, she no longerfelt the absolute necessity of remaining there from daylight until latein the evening. Her Uncle Zoeth was almost well, also; she would nolonger have his health as an additional burden upon her mind. She was indanger of being forced to think of herself, and that she knew she mustnot do. Thinking of herself would surely mean thinking of someone elseand of what might have been. And what useless, hopeless thinking thatwould be! No, no! She must find something else to keep her thoughtsoccupied. 

So she was planning the making over and enlarging of the store front, putting in larger and better windows and strengthening the platform. Shewas discussing the plan with Shadrach and Zoeth when John Keith entered. The Keiths were leaving South Harniss rather early that year and thehead of the family had dropped in to say good-by. Mr. Keith's liking forMary was as strong as ever, and for her uncles he had, by this time, avery real regard, a feeling which was reciprocated by them. 

Conversation began in the way the majority of conversations begin, witha discussion of the weather, its recent past, present, and probablefuture, shifted to the tea-room and its success and then to thevisitor's recent trip to New York, from which city he had just returned. It was near the noon hour and there were few customers to interrupt. Those who did come were taken care of by Mr. Crocker. 

"Anything new happenin' over there?" inquired Captain Shadrach, askingnews of the metropolis exactly as he would have asked concerning thegossip of Harniss Center. "Meet anybody you knew, did you?"

Keith smiled. "Why, yes, " he said. "I met the people I went to see. Minewas a business trip. I didn't meet anyone unexpectedly, if that's whatyou mean. "

The Captain nodded. "Didn't get down on South Street, did you?" heasked. "No, I thought not. If you had you'd have met plenty. When I wasgoin' to sea I bet I never went cruisin' down South Street in my lifethat I didn't run afoul of somebody I wan't expectin' to. Greatest placefor meetin' folks in the world, I cal'late South Street is. Lots ofseafarin' men have told me so. "

Keith's smile broadened as he was handed this nugget of wisdom. Then hesaid:

"You remind me, Captain, that I did meet someone, after all. In Boston, not in New York, and I met him only yesterday. It was someone you know, too, and Mary here used to know him quite well, I think--young CrawfordSmith, Sam's Harvard friend. He visited us here in South Harniss onesummer. "

Shadrach was the only one of the trio of listeners who made any commentat all on this speech. Even he did not speak for a moment, glancingapprehensively at Mary before doing so. Mary said nothing, and Zoeth, leaning back in his chair, his face hidden from his partner's gaze bythe end of the counter, did not speak. 

"Sho!" exclaimed the Captain. "Sho! So you met him, did you! In Boston?That's funny. I had an idea he was out West somewheres. "

"So did I. The last I heard concerning him he had given up his studiesin the East here--he was studying medicine, as perhaps you know--and hadgone back to his home in Nevada. His father, who was not at all well, asked him to do so. He had written Sam once or twice from out there. So I was surprised enough to see him in Boston. I met him in the SouthStation and we chatted for a few moments. He told me that his father wasdead. "

From behind the end of the counter where Zoeth sat came an odd sound, asort of gasp. Shadrach leaned forward quickly. 

"What's the matter, Zoeth?" he asked. Before Zoeth could answer Maryspoke:

"Dead!" she repeated. "Mr. Keith, I--did--did you say Crawford Smith'sfather was DEAD?"

Her tone was so strange that even Mr. Keith could not help noticing it. He looked at her, seemed about to ask a question, and then answered hersinstead. 

"Why, yes, " he said; "he is dead. He had been in poor health for sometime, so his son told me, and about two weeks ago he died. Crawford didnot tell me any particulars, nor did he say what had brought him East. In fact, he didn't seem anxious to talk; acted as if he had somethingon his mind. Of course I said I was sorry and he thanked me and inquiredregarding Mrs. Keith and Edna and Sam. Then I had to hurry for my train. . . . Oh, are you going, Mary? Well, then, I must say good-by until nextsummer; we leave tomorrow morning. "

Mary explained, rather hurriedly, that she must speak with Simeon fora few minutes, said good-by, shook hands and hastened out. Keith lookedafter her. 

"I hope I haven't made a blunder, " he said, "in speaking of youngSmith. She and he were quite--er--friendly at one time, weren't they. I understood so from some remarks of Sam's. Didn't put my foot in it bymentioning the boy's name, did I? I certainly hope not. "

Zoeth did not speak. Shadrach hastened to reassure him. 

"No, no!" he said. "There was one time when even me and Zoeth figgeredthere might be--er--well, we didn't know but what he and she was liableto be more'n just friends. But it's all off now, seems so. They don'teven write each other, I guess. I cal'late maybe Mary-'Gusta got tiredof him, " he explained. "He was a real nice young feller, but he probablywan't quite good enough for her. Fur's that goes, " he added, with theemphasis of absolute conviction, "I never laid eyes on one that was. "

Keith looked relieved. "Well, I'm glad if I didn't make a mistake, " hesaid. "She seemed so startled when I said that the man was dead and hermanner was so odd. Didn't you notice it yourself, Captain?"

Shadrach nodded. 

"I noticed she seemed sort of sot all aback, " he said, "but I don'tknow's that's so strange when you consider that she and Crawford used tobe such friends. More'n probable she's heard him talk a good deal abouthis father. "

"Well, perhaps so. No doubt that is it. I'm afraid she is working toohard and worrying too much over her various enterprises here. She issucceeding wonderfully, of course, but I don't like to see her losingthose roses in her cheeks. They're much too precious to lose. Keep youreye on her, Captain, and don't let her wear herself out. "

He soon said good-by. Captain Shadrach accompanied him to the door. Zoeth remained where he was, not rising even when he shook hands withhis departing friend. But when the Captain turned back he saw hispartner standing by the end of the counter and clutching it with onehand while he beckoned with the other. Shadrach gave him one look andthen crossed the space between them in two strides. 

"For the land sakes, Zoeth, " he begged, "what's the matter?"

Zoeth waved him to silence. "Sshh! sshh!" he pleaded in a whisper. "Don't holler so; she'll hear you. Shadrach, I--I--"

"What IS it?" broke in his friend. "What's the matter, Zoeth? Shall Ifetch the doctor?"

"No, no. I'm--I'm all right, Shadrach. I've just had--had a kind ofshock--a surprise, that's all. I ain't very strong yet and it--it kindof upset me. But, Shadrach, I want to talk to you. I want to tell yousomethin' right away. I can't keep it to myself any longer. Can't we gohome--to my room or somewheres--where we can talk? Please, Shadrach!"

"There, there, shipmate; take it easy. Go home? Course we can! Hey, Sim!" shouting to Mr. Crocker, who was in the back room. "You and Marycan take care of the store, can't you? Zoeth and me are goin' home fordinner. "

Simeon replied that Mary was not there; she had gone out the back way, down to the house, he thought. "But you go ahead, Cap'n Shad, " he added. "I can take care of the store all right. "

At home, and in Mr. Hamilton's room, the Captain pulled forward the mostcomfortable chair, forced his partner to sit in it, closed and lockedthe door, sat down on the edge of the bed, and said:

"There! Now we're all taut and shipshape and nobody can get aboard tointerrupt. Fire away, Zoeth. What is it you've got to tell?"

Zoeth, his hand trembling, reached into the inside pocket of his coat, took out an old-fashioned wallet and from it produced a much-crumpledenvelope. 

"Shadrach, " he said, "I don't hardly know how to begin. It seems sostrange to think that you and me, who've been so close to each otherall these years, should have a secret between us, if only for a littlewhile. It seems wicked. I guess 'tis wicked, and I'm the wicked one forkeepin' it from you. "

The Captain laughed. 

"You couldn't be wicked if you was apprenticed to the Old Harry for tenyears, Zoeth, " he said. "You don't know how to be and the devil himselfcouldn't teach you. Now, don't waste time tellin' me I'm speakinglightly of sacred things, " he added. "For one thing, the Old Scratchain't sacred, as I know of, and for another I want to hear that secret. What is it?"

Zoeth shook his head. "I am wicked, all the same, " he said, "but I guessI've been punished. There wan't any real reason why I shouldn't havetold you afore, but somehow I couldn't make up my mind to speak of it. Ijust couldn't. But I'm goin' to tell you now, Shadrach. "

He held up the crumpled envelope. 

"You remember when I was took sick?" he said. "You remember I was struckdown all of a heap in the kitchen? Yes; well, did you ever wonder whatit was struck me down? I'll tell you. 'Twas a letter that came to me inthe mail that morning. This was the letter. I managed to put it in myinside vest pocket that time when Isaiah run off after you and left melyin' there. I didn't want him to see it. I didn't want anybody to--notthen. Now I want you to read it, Shadrach. But before you do, let mewarn you. You should ask the Almighty to give you strength. You're goin'to be surprised, Shadrach, surprised and shocked. Here it is; read it. "

He handed the envelope to his partner. The latter took it, wonderingly, and looked at the inscription. 

"Nobody's handwritin' that I know, " he said. 

"You knew it once well enough. "

"I did? And it was mailed out in Carson City, Nevada. Why, that's wherethe Crawford Smith boy lives, ain't it? What on earth?"

He opened the envelope and from it took several sheets closely coveredwith finely written lines. He began to read and, as he read, hisexpression changed from curiosity to wonder, to amazement, to anger, toa mixture of the last three. The final sheet fell from his fingers tothe floor. He looked up with a very white face. 

"My God!" he said solemnly. 

A half-hour later they were still talking. Shadrach had not entirelyrecovered from the surprise, but now he could think and speak morecoherently, although the wonder of it all was overpowering. 

"It seems as if the hand of the Lord was in it, " he declared. 

"It is, " agreed Zoeth, with absolute conviction. "See how it worked outaccordin' to His promise. The wicked flourished for a time, but God sentthe punishment in due season, didn't He? Can't you see the poor feller'sagonizin' in every line of that letter?"

"POOR feller! Good Lord above, Zoeth Hamilton, you ain't pityin' HIM, are you? You ain't sorry for him--YOU?"

Zoeth nodded. "I wan't at first, " he said. "At first the whole thing, comin' on me out of a clear sky as you might say, knocked me flat. Thedoctor, when he came, said he thought I must have had a sudden shock. Idid; that was it, that letter. But later on, when I was gettin' betterand could think again, and when I was alone and had the chance and couldread the letter again, I began to--to--well, not forgive him for what hedone--I don't suppose I can ever do that"

"I should say not! Damn him!"

"Hush, Shadrach; he's dead. "

"So he is. I forgot. Then he's damned, I guess, without any orders fromme. "

"He was damned here on earth, Shadrach. All his life--the last part ofit, anyhow--must have been a torment. He must have idolized that boyof his. He says so in the letter, but it's plain on every line of thewritin' without his sayin' it. And can't you just imagine him as the boygrew up and they loved each other more and more, tremblin' and scaredevery minute for fear that somehow or other his son'll learn that thefather he loves and respects is a--a thief--and--and worse? Seems to meI can imagine it. And then all at once the boy comes to him and says hewants to marry--Oh, my soul! Shadrach, think of it!--he wants to marryyour girl and mine--Marcellus's stepdaughter. Why, it must have drivenhim nigh crazy. And then they quarrel, and the boy, the only bein' onearth he's livin' for, goes off and leaves him. And he knows he'scomin' here--to us--and that some time or other he's sartin to learneverything. No wonder he wrote that letter. No wonder--"

The Captain interrupted. 

"Writin' you, of all people!" he said. "Writin' you and beggin' you notto let Mary-'Gusta marry his son: and for what? To save the boy fromsomethin' bad? No! For all he knew, Mary-'Gusta might be what sheis, the best and finest girl on earth. What he was beggin' for washimself--that his son shouldn't know what HE was, that's all. No, Zoeth, I can't pity him much. He's dead, and that's a good thing, too. Thewonder of it is that he's been alive all this time and we didn't know. And to think--but there; it's all wonderful. "

Both were silent for a moment. Then Zoeth said:

"The one thing that's troubled me most in all this, Shadrach, is aboutMary-'Gusta herself. How does she really feel towards Crawford? Shesent him away, you told me that, but are you sure she did it because shedidn't care enough for him to marry him? Are you sure there wan't anyother reason?"

"She gave me to understand there wan't. What other reason could therebe?"

"Well--well, Shadrach, it all depends, seems to me. You knowMary-'Gusta; the last person she thinks about on earth is herself. Ifshe did think a sight of Crawford, if she thought ENOUGH of him, she wouldn't let him suffer on account of her, would she? She knew, probably, that he loved and respected his father and a father's goodname must mean a lot to a son. Then, there is us--you and me, Shadrach. She wouldn't let us suffer, if she could help it. Do you see what Imean?"

"Humph!" mused the Captain, thinking aloud, "I cal'late I do, Zoeth. Youmean if Mary-'Gusta had found out the facts about Ed Farmer, who he wasand what he done, and if she knew Crawford Smith's dad WAS Ed Farmer andthat Crawford didn't know it and we didn't know it--you mean that, BEIN'Mary-'Gusta, rather than bring sorrow and trouble on Crawford and on us, she'd sacrifice her own feelin's and--and would pretend she didn't carefor him so as to get him to go away and save him and us. That's what youmean, I presume likely. "

"That's it, Shadrach. "

"Um--yes. Well, there's just one thing that makes that notion seemconsider'ble more than unlikely. How in the world could she have foundout that there ever was an Edgar Farmer--"

"Good many folks in South Harniss could have told her that if they'd hada mind to. "

"Maybe so; but they couldn't have told her that Edwin Smith, of CarsonCity, Nevada, was ever Edgar Farmer. No, sir, they couldn't! Nobody knewit--but Ed Farmer himself. How could our Mary-'Gusta know it?"

"I don't know, Shadrach, unless--she's awful smart, you know--somethin'might have put her on the track and she puzzled it out. I know thatain't likely; but, Shadrach, if she does care for Crawford and he caresfor her, I--I want 'em to have each other. I do. They must. "

Shadrach stared at him. 

"Zoeth Hamilton, " he exclaimed, "do you know what you're sayin'? Youwant our girl to marry the son of the man that--that--"

"I know what he did, Shadrach; you don't need to tell me. But he's dead, and his boy is a good boy--you liked him and so did I. And Shadrach, I've been thinkin' an awful lot about this since I got the letter andhave been well enough to think. And I've made up my mind to just this:There has been sorrow and trouble enough brought on already by thatwickedness. There shan't be any more. What wrecked all our livesthirty-five years ago shan't wreck these two, if I can help it. IfMary-'Gusta cares for him and he for her they must have each other andbe happy. And you and I will be happy watchin' their happiness. "

He paused and then added:

"So I wish, Shadrach, there was some way of findin' out for sure thatshe sent him away because she didn't care for him and not for any otherreason. "

Shadrach rose from his chair and laid his hand on his friend's shoulder. He cleared his throat once or twice before speaking and there was stilla shake in his voice as he said:

"Zoeth, you're a better man than I ever hope to be. I declare you makeme ashamed of myself. "

Neither of them ate much dinner, although Isaiah had prepared acranberry pie, made from the first fruit of the fall season, andwas correspondingly disappointed when both of his employers left ituntouched. 

"Ain't a mite of use my slavin' myself to death cookin' fancy vittlesfor this crew, " he grumbled. "I stood over that cookstove this mornin'until I got so everlastin' hot that every time the cold air blowed ontome I steamed. And yet I can't satisfy. "

"Oh, yes, you can, " observed Captain Shad, rising from the table. "Yousatisfied us too quick, that was the trouble. We was satisfied afore wegot to the pie. "

"Umph! I want to know! Well, Mary-'Gusta was satisfied afore that. Shedidn't eat hardly anything. Said she wan't hungry. I swan if it ain'tdiscouragin'! What's the use of you folks havin' a cook? If you're goin'to have canary-bird appetites, why don't you feed on bird seed and bedone with it? And I do believe I never made a better pie than that!"

"Where's Mary-'Gusta?" asked Zoeth. 

"I don't know. She went up to her room. She may be there yet, or she mayhave come down and gone out again--I don't know. If she did come down Ididn't see her. "

Shadrach looked out of the window. It had been a dark, gloomy morningand now it was beginning to rain. The wind was whining through the topsof the silver-leafs and the moan of the breakers on the bar sounded witha clearness which denoted the approach of a northeaster. 

"Dirty weather, " observed the Captain. "And it'll be dirtier yet beforenight. You better stay here in snug harbor this afternoon, Zoeth. Simmieand the boy and Mary-'Gusta and I can tend store all right. Yes, yes, you stay right here and keep dry. Hope Mary-'Gusta took an umbrella whenshe went. "

"I don't know as she has gone, " said Isaiah. "She may be upstairs in herroom yet. That's where she was. "

Shadrach, after calling "Mary-'Gusta" several times at the foot of thestairs, went up to make sure. The door of Mary's room was closed but, ashe received no answer to his knock, he opened it and entered. Marywas not there, although it was evident that she had been there veryrecently. 

Apparently she had been writing a letter, for her writing case wasspread out upon the table. Also the drawer in which she kept it had beenleft open, an unusual act of carelessness on her part, for, generallyspeaking, as her Uncle Shad said, "Nothin's ever out of place inMary-'Gusta's room except some of the places, and that's the carpenter'sfault, not hers. "

The Captain stepped over to close the drawer. As he did so his attentionwas attracted by a photograph lying upon a pile of photographs in a boxinside the drawer. He picked up the photograph and looked at it. Itwas that of Edwin Smith, taken when he seemed to be recovering from hisillness, the one which showed him without a beard. 

Shadrach's eyes opened wide as he looked at the photograph. He utteredan exclamation, stepped to the door of the upper hall and called, "Zoeth!" Then he returned to the table and took from the drawer the nextphotograph upon the pile in the box. It was the old, faded picture ofthe partners of Hall and Company. 

Isaiah came stumbling up the stairs. 

"Anythin' I can do for you, Cap'n Shad?" he asked. "Zoeth, he's gone outto shut up the barn door. Rain was liable to beat in, he said. I toldhim I'd do it, but--Godfreys mighty!"

The Captain had paid no attention to him and he had entered the room andapproached his employer from behind. Now over the latter's shoulder hesaw the two photographs. 

"Godfreys mighty!" cried the startled Isaiah. 

Shadrach turned and looked at him. 

"Well, " he demanded, "what's the matter? What are you starin' like thatfor?"

"Them--them pictures, " gasped Mr. Chase. 

"Well, what about 'em? Where did Mary-'Gusta get 'em, do you know?Did--Here! Where are you goin'?"

"I--I ain't goin' anywheres. I'm a-goin' downstairs. I got mydishwashin' to do. I--let go of me, Cap'n Shad! I got to go this minute, I tell you. "

But the Captain did not let go of him. Instead, keeping a firm hold uponthe collar of the frightened cook and steward, he twisted him arounduntil he could look him straight in the eye. This was difficult, forIsaiah plainly did not wish to be looked at in that manner. 

"Humph!" grunted Captain Shad, after a moment's inspection. "Humph! Ical'late I've got the right pig by the ear this time. Set down in thatchair, Isaiah Chase; I want to talk to you. "

CHAPTER XXIX

The northeaster was developing. It was now raining hard and the wind wasrising. The gusts swept across the top of the little hill and the windowsashes of the For'ard Lookout rattled and the hinges of the ancientblinds squeaked. The yard, which had been so attractive, was shorn ofits decorations. The tables had been carried inside; the lanterns takendown; the wonderful sign, pride of the talented Mr. Bemis, had beentenderly conveyed to the attic. Cook, waitresses and salesgirl haddeparted. The tea-room and gift shop had gone into winter quarters tohibernate until the following spring. 

The rooms inside had been thoroughly swept and cleaned and most of thefurniture and the best of the old prints covered with dust cloths. Someof the smaller articles, however, were still upon the shelves of thegift shop, Mary having ordered her assistants to leave them there, asshe wished to look them over herself before putting them away. Someof her selections for stock had sold remarkably well and she had beenobliged to reorder many times; others of which she had been quiteconfident when purchasing had not sold at all. Both good sellers and badshe meant to list as a guide to future choosing. 

She was listing them now. Alone in the room which had once been thesacred best parlor of the little house, she was seated at the table, pencil in hand and memorandum books and paper before her. There was noparticular reason why the listing should have been done that day; itmight have been done any day until the weather became too cold to workin an unheated house. That morning she had had no idea of doing itthat afternoon. She was doing it now because she felt that she must dosomething to occupy her mind, and because she wished to be alone. Up there at the For'ard Lookout she could combine the two--work andseclusion. 

When Mr. Keith told, at the store that morning, the news of EdwinSmith's--or Edgar Farmer's--death she had been dreadfully shaken by it. It was so sudden, so unexpected--when she last heard the man was, so thedoctors said, almost well. She had thought of him often enough duringthe past year; or, rather, she had thought of Crawford as being withhim and of the father's joy in his son's return to him and the knowledgethat his own disgraceful secret would not be revealed. And she hadpictured Crawford as finding solace for his disappointed love in hisfather's society. That Edgar Farmer had been what Isaiah called him--ablackguard--she realized perfectly, but she was equally sure that, asEdwin Smith, he had been the kindest and most loving of fathers. AndCrawford, although he had been willing to leave him because of her, loved him dearly. 

And now he was dead, and Crawford was left alone. Somehow she feltresponsible for the death. That it had been hastened by the terriblealarm and stress of the previous year was, of course, certain. Shethought of Crawford alone and with this new sorrow, and this thought, and that of her responsibility, was almost more than she could bear. 

She felt that she must write him, that he must know she had heard andwas thinking of him. So, after leaving the store, she had hastened downto the house and up the back stairs to her room. There she had written afew lines, not more than a note, but the composing of that note had beena difficult task. There was so much she longed to say and so littleshe could say. When it was written she remembered that Crawford wasin Boston and she did not know his address. She determined to send theletter to the Nevada home and trust to its being forwarded. 

She took from the back of the drawer the box of photographs and lookedthem over. As she was doing so Isaiah called her to dinner. Then sheheard her uncles come in and, because she felt that she could talkwith no one just then, she avoided them by hastily going down the frontstairs. She made a pretense of eating and left the house. Isaiah did notsee her go. After stopping at the store long enough to tell Mr. Crockershe would be at the tea-room that afternoon, she climbed the hill, unlocked the door of the For'ard Lookout, entered and began her work. 

The wind howled and whined and the rain beat against the windows. Theblinds creaked, the sashes rattled, the gusts moaned in the chimneyabove the fireplace, and all the hundred and one groanings and wailings, the complaints of an old house in a storm, developed. All these soundsMary heard absently, her mind upon her work. Then, little by littleas they drew nearer, she became conscious of other sounds, footfalls;someone was coming up the walk. 

She did not rise from her chair nor look up from her work when theoutside door opened. Even when the footsteps sounded in the little hallbehind her she did not turn. 

"Yes, Uncle Shad, " she said. "I am here, and I'm safe and I'm perfectlydry. Also I'm very, very busy. Now, why did you come out in the rain tohunt me up? And I'm quite sure you haven't put on your rubbers. "

And then the voice behind her said: "Mary. "

She turned now--turned, looked, and rose to her feet. Her face wentwhite, then flushed red, and then paled again. 

"Oh!" she gasped. 

Crawford Smith was standing there. His light overcoat--it was not araincoat--dripped water; so did the hat in his hand. He stood there andlooked--and dripped. 

"Mary, " he said again. 

She caught her breath, almost with a sob. 

"You!" she exclaimed. "YOU! Oh, how could you? WHY did you come?"

He took a step toward her. "Because I felt that I must, " he said. "I hadto come. I came to see you once more. You must forgive me. "

She did not speak. He continued:

"You must forgive me for coming, " he said again. "There was a questionI had to ask and only you could answer it. It isn't the question Iasked before, although perhaps that--But first I must tell you: Mary, myfather is dead. "

She nodded. She could scarcely trust herself to speak, but she tried. 

"Yes, yes, " she faltered. "I--I know. "

"You know?" he repeated. 

"Yes, Mr. Keith told us this morning. He said he met you in Boston. "

"Yes, I had forgotten; so he did. "

"That is how I knew. Oh, Crawford, I am so sorry for you. I have beenwriting you. But WHY did you come here again? It--it makes it so muchharder for--for both of us. "

He did not answer the question. "You knew my father was dead, " he saidagain. "I wonder"--he was speaking slowly and his gaze was fixed uponher face--"I wonder how much more you know. "

She started back. "How much--" she repeated, "How much more--Oh, what doyou mean?"

"I mean how much did you know about my father when you and I weretogether--when I came on here and asked you to marry me?"

She put a hand to her throat. "Oh!" she cried breathlessly. "YOU know!He told you!"

"Yes, Mary, he told me. Before he died he told me everything. And youknew it! I know now why you would not marry me--the son of a thief. "

She looked at him in pained astonishment. The tears sprang to her eyes. "Oh, how can you!" she exclaimed. "How can you say that to me? Howcan you think it? As if that would make any difference! I learned yourfather's name and--and what he had done--by accident. It was only thenight before you came. It would have made no difference to me. Formyself I didn't care--but--Oh, Crawford, how can you think it wasbecause he was--that?"

His eyes were shining. 

"I don't think it, " he cried triumphantly. "I never have thought it, Mary. I believe--ever since I knew, I have dared to believe that yousent me away because you were trying to save me from disgrace. You hadlearned who and what my father had been and I did not know. And youfeared that if you married me the secret might come out and I wouldbe ashamed, my career would be spoiled, and all that. I have dared tobelieve this and that is why I came back to you--to ask if it was true. Can't you see? I HAD to come. IS it true, Mary?"

He came toward her. She would have run away if she could, but there wasnowhere to run. 

"Look at me, Mary, " he commanded. "Look at me, and tell me this: Itwasn't because you didn't love me that you sent me away? It wasn'treally that, was it? Tell me the truth. Look at me now, and tell me. "

She tried to look and she tried to speak, but her glance faltered andfell before his and the words would not come. She could feel the bloodrushing to her cheeks. She put up her hands in mute protest, but theprotest was unavailing. His arms were about her, his kisses were uponher lips, and he was telling her the things which are told in times likethese. And she struggled no longer, but permitted herself to listen, to believe, to accept, and to be swept away by the wonderful current oflove and destiny against which she had fought so long. 

But the struggle was not entirely over. She made one more effort. 

"Oh, Crawford!" she cried a little later. "Oh, Crawford, dear, this isall wrong. It can't be. It mustn't be. Don't you see it mustn't? We haveforgotten Uncle Zoeth. He doesn't know whose son you are. If he shouldlearn, it would bring back the old story and the old trouble. He isn'twell. The shock might kill him. "

But Crawford merely smiled. 

"He does know, Mary, " he said. "Father wrote him. I shall tell youthe whole story just as Dad told it to me. Heaven knows it was not apleasant one for a son to hear, but I am glad I heard it. The past wasbad, but it is past. You and I have the future for our own and I mean tomake it a clean one and a happy one for us both, God willing. "

Shadrach came up the path to the tea-house, leading Isaiah by the arm. Mr. Chase moved reluctantly, as if led to execution or, at the veryleast, to immediate trial for his life. 

"Now then, " commanded Shadrach, "furl that umbrella and come along inhere with me. I want you to make Mary-'Gusta understand that you've toldme the whole business, about your tellin' her the Ed Farmer yarnand all. After that you can clear out, because I want to talk to hermyself. "

He opened the door and, still holding his captive by the arm, strodeinto the parlor. There he stood stock still, staring. 

Crawford held out his hand and the Captain found himself shaking itwarmly. 

"Captain Gould, " he said, "I know now what I did not know until twoweeks ago, how greatly my father wronged you and your partners. I knowthe whole miserable story. But, in spite of it, I am here because I loveMary and I want to marry her. She has told me that she loves me. I don'tknow how you feel about it, but I hope--"

The Captain interrupted. "Wait a minute!" he ordered. "Heave to andcome up into the wind a minute; let me get my bearin's. Young feller, if you're goin' to drop down out of the skies unexpected like this, you--Tut! tut! tut! Whew!" He waited a moment, then he said:

"Mary-'Gusta, come here. "

He held out his arms. She came to him and he held her close. 

"Is it so?" he asked. "Do you care for this young feller enough forthat? Do you, Mary-'Gusta?"

He put his finger beneath her chin and lifted her head to look down intoher face. The face was crimson. 

"Do you, Mary-'Gusta?" he asked. 

Mary looked up, wet-eyed but smiling. 

"Yes, Uncle Shad, " she said, "I think I do. "

"And you want to cruise in his company all your life, eh?"

"Yes, Uncle Shad; but not unless you and Uncle Zoeth are willing. "

He bent and kissed her. 

"Bless your heart, dearie, " he said, "it's all right. Zoeth and me weretalkin' about this very thing a little while ago. And do you know whathe said? He said: 'What wrecked all our lives thirty-five year agoshan't wreck these two, if I can help it. If Mary-'Gusta cares for himand he for her they shall have each other and be happy. And we'll behappy watchin' their happiness. ' That's what he said. I don't know'sI said 'Amen' exactly, but I thought it, anyhow. God bless you, Mary-'Gusta. Now you and Crawford go and see your Uncle Zoeth. He's downat the house. You just run along and tell him about it. "

Mary turned to Mr. Chase. 

"Well, Isaiah, " she said, "haven't you anything to say to me?"

Isaiah looked at Crawford and then at her. 

"I should say you'd better go somewheres, both of you, and get dry, "he said. "His overcoat's soakin' wet and your waist ain't much better. I--I--don't know what sort of--of congratulations or--or whateverthey be I ought to say, but--but I hope you'll be terrible happy, Mary-'Gusta. "

"Thank you, Isaiah, " laughed Mary. 

"Yes, you're welcome. Now, just let me talk to Cap'n Shad a minute. "

He swung about and faced the Captain and in his eye was triumph greatand complete. 

"Cap'n Shad Gould, " crowed Isaiah, "a good many times in the lastfour or five year you've called me a fool for heavin' out hints thatsomethin' about like this was liable to happen. Well? WELL? What haveyou got to say NOW? Who's the fool NOW? Hey? Who is?"

CHAPTER XXX

The story of Mary-'Gusta Lathrop is almost told. Before Crawford leftSouth Harniss, which was not until the end of another week, it had beendecided that on a day in June of the following year she should cease tobe Mary-'Gusta Lathrop. There was a great deal of discussion before thisdecision was reached, for many perplexing questions had to be answered. 

First, there was the question of Crawford's future. His father had lefta comfortable fortune and an interest in mining properties which wouldhave rendered it quite unnecessary for the young man to keep on with hisprofessional studies had he wished to discontinue them. But he did notso wish. 

"As I think I told you that Sunday afternoon when we first met at Mrs. Wyeth's, Mary, " he said, "I have always intended to be a doctor. Dad didnot want me to be; he wanted me to come in with him, but I wouldn't doit. I love my work and I mean to stick to it and go on with it. If Iwere as rich as a dozen Rockefellers it wouldn't make any difference. But, as I see it, I am not rich. It is a grave question in my mind howmuch of that money out there belongs to me. "

Mary nodded. "I think I understand what you mean, " she said. 

"Yes, I think there is no doubt that almost all of my father's moneywas made there in the West after"--he hesitated and then went on--"afterthe--the other died and after he married my mother. But nevertheless Ishall always feel as if whatever there was belonged to your uncles, the surviving members of the old firm. If I could, I should give it tothem. "

Mary smiled. "Thank you for saying it, dear, " she said, "and I know youmean it; but it would be no use to offer; they wouldn't take it. "

"I know they wouldn't. So we must try and make it up to them in someother way. But suppose we leave that for a time and get back to my work. I'm going to keep on with it; I want to and you say that you want meto. "

"I do, very much. I am sure you will be happier in that work than in anyother, and besides--I suppose I am ever so unpractical, but I dofeel it--I had rather you made your own way. Somehow the idea of ourdepending upon that money out there doesn't--doesn't--Oh, I can'texplain exactly, but I don't like the idea a bit. "

"I know. I prefer to paddle my own canoe, if I can. But a young doctor'scanoe is likely to move pretty slowly at first. And I intend taking apassenger, you know, and I want her to be comfortable. "

Mary laughed, a contented little laugh. "She will be, " she declared. "Did I tell you of the talk Uncle Shad and I had the other day? Hesaw me sitting by the dining-room window looking out at nothing inparticular--and looking silly enough, too, I dare say--and he asked mewhat I was thinking. I said, 'Nothing much, ' which wasn't true, and hesaid nothing must be good to think of, I looked so cheerful. I toldhim I was. Then I asked him--my conscience troubled me a little, youknow--if he was sure that he and Uncle Zoeth were happy, because Ishouldn't be unless they were. "

"Well, that was characteristic. What did he say to that?"

"Oh, he laughed that big laugh of his and told me not to worry. 'I'Mfeelin' pretty average satisfied with life just now, Mary-'Gusta, ' hesaid, 'and as for Zoeth--well, he asked me this mornin' if I didn'tcal'late 'twas wicked for him and me to be so contented with the thingsof this world, so I know HE'S all right. When Zoeth gets real happy healways begins to feel sinful. ' I hope that a consciousness of sin isn'tthe only test of happiness, " she added, "because I don't believe youfeel wicked the least bit. At least you have never said you did. "

Crawford laughed, and there followed one of those interruptions toconversation with which, although undoubtedly interesting to theparticipants, outsiders are not supposed to be concerned. When it wasover Mary said:

"Of course I am not so foolish as to mean that you must not touch themoney your father left. That would be ridiculous. But I mean I think weshould not depend upon it; it should not change our plans or spoil yourlife work, or anything like that. It will make life easier for us, ofcourse, and with its help we can make it easier for other people. Ithink that is what we should do with it. "

"So do I, my dear. And our first duty, it seems to me, is toward youruncles. If they would consent, and I suppose there isn't the leastchance that they would, I should like to sell out the store and theLookout and the rest of it and take them with us, wherever we decide togo, and give them an easy, carefree time of it the rest of their lives. "

Mary shook her head. "They wouldn't like it a bit, " she said. "Thatprecious old store is the joy of their lives. Without it they wouldn'tknow what to do; they would be as lost and lonesome and miserable as apair of stray kittens. No, if we take care of them we must take care ofHamilton and Company, too. And we mustn't let them know we're doing it, either, " she added with decision. 

Crawford looked troubled. "I suppose you're right, " he said; "but itis likely to be something of a puzzle, their problem. It will mean, ofcourse, that you and I must go and leave them. "

"Oh, no, we can't do that--not for some time, at any rate. "

"It seems to me we must. We have decided, you and I, that I shall goback West, finish my preparatory work, then come here and marry you. After that--well, after that we have decided that I am to locatesomewhere or other and begin to practice my profession. You'll go withme then, I presume?"

"Silly! Of course I will. "

"I hoped so. But if we can't leave your uncles and they won't leave thestore, what are we going to do? Put the store on a truck and take itwith us?"

She looked up at him and smiled. "I have a plan, " she said. "I haven'tquite worked it out yet, but if it does work I think it's going to be avery nice plan indeed. No, I'm not going to tell you what it is yet, soyou mustn't tease. You don't mind my planning for you and bossing youand all that sort of thing, do you? I hope you don't, because I can'thelp it. It's the way I'm made, I think. "

"I don't mind. Boss away. "

"Oh, I shall. I'm like that Scotch girl in the play Mrs. Wyeth took meto see in Boston--Bunty, her name was. She made me think of myself morethan once, although she was ever so much more clever. At the end of theplay she said to her sweetheart, 'William, I must tell ye this: ifI marry ye I'll aye be managin' ye. ' She meant she couldn't help it. Neither can I. I'm afraid I'm a born manager. "

Crawford stooped and kissed her. 

"Do you remember William's answer?" he asked. "I do. It was: 'Bunty, I'll glory in my shame. ' Manage all you like, my lady, I'll glory init. "

The plan did work out and it was this: Doctor Harley, who had practicedmedicine for forty-one years in South Harniss, was thinking of retiringafter two more years of active work. He was willing to sell out hispractice at the end of that time. He liked Crawford, had taken a fancyto him on the occasion of his first visit to the town when he was aguest of the Keiths. Crawford, after Mary had suggested the idea to him, called upon the old doctor. Before the end of the week it was arrangedthat after Crawford's final season of college and hospital work hewas to come to South Harniss, work with Doctor Harley as assistant foranother year, and then buy out the practice and, as Captain Shad said, "put up his own shingle. "

"I don't mean to stay here always, " Crawford said, "but it will do megood to be here for a time. Harley's a tiptop old chap and a thoroughlycompetent general practitioner. He'll give me points that may beinvaluable by and by. And a country practice is the best of training. "

Mary nodded. "Yes, " she said. "And at the end of this winter I shallhave Simeon Crocker well broken in as manager of the store. And I cansell the tea-room, I think. My uncles don't care much for that, anyway. They will be perfectly happy with the store to putter about in andwith Simeon to take the hard work and care off their shoulders they canputter to their hearts' content. "

"But suppose Simeon doesn't make it pay!" suggested Crawford. "That'sat least a possibility. Everyone isn't a Napoleon--I should say a QueenElizabeth--of finance and business like yourself, young lady. "

Mary's confidence was not in the least shaken. 

"It will pay, " she said. "If the townspeople and the summer cottagersdon't buy enough--well, you and I can help out. There is that money inthe West, you know. "

He nodded emphatically. 

"Good!" he cried. "You're right. It will be a chance for us--just alittle chance. And they will never know. "

He went away at the end of the week, but he came back for Christmasand again at Easter and again in the latter part of May. And soon afterthat, on a day in early June, he stood, with Sam Keith at his elbow, in the parlor of the white house by the shore, while Edna Keith played"Here Comes the Bride" on the piano which had been hired for theoccasion; and, with her hand in Zoeth's arm, and with Captain Shadrachand Barbara Howe just behind, Mary walked between the two lines ofsmiling, teary friends to meet him. 

It was a lovely wedding; everyone said so, and as there probably neverwas a wedding which was not pronounced lovely by friends and relatives, we may be doubly certain of the loveliness of this. And there never wasa more beautiful bride. All brides are beautiful, more or less, but thisone was more. Isaiah, who had been favored with a peep at the rehearsalon the previous evening, was found later on by Shadrach in the kitchenin a state of ecstatic incoherence. 

"I swan to godfreys!" cried Isaiah. "Ain't--ain't she an angel, though!Did you ever see anything prettier'n she is in them clothes and withthat--that moskeeter net on her head? An angel--yes, sir-ee! one of themcherrybins out of the Bible, that's what she is. And to think it's ourMary-'Gusta! Say, Cap'n Shad, will checkered pants be all right to wearwith my blue coat tomorrow? I burnt a hole in my lavender ones tryin' topress the wrinkles out of 'em. And I went down to the wharf in 'em lastSunday and they smell consider'ble of fish, besides. "

The wedding company was small, but select. Judge Baxter and his wifewere there and the Keiths--Mrs. Keith condescended to ornament theoccasion; some of the "best people" had seen fit to make much of MaryLathrop and Mrs. Keith never permitted herself to be very far behind thebest people in anything--and Mrs. Wyeth was there, and Miss Pease, andMr. Green who had received an invitation and had come from Boston, andDoctor Harley, and Simeon Crocker and his "steady company, " one of thetea-room young ladies, and Annabel and--and--well, a dozen or fifteenmore. 

When the minister asked, "Who giveth this woman to this man?" Zoethanswered, bravely, "I do--that is, me and Shadrach. " But no one laughed, because Zoeth himself was trying to smile and making rather wet weatherof it. As for the Captain, his expression during the ceremony was asort of fixed grin which he had assumed before entering the room and hadevidently determined to wear to the finish, no matter what his emotionsmight be. But Miss Pease, always susceptible, had a delightful cry allto herself, and Isaiah, retiring to the hall, blew his nose with a vigorwhich, as Captain Shad said afterwards, "had the Pollack Rip foghornsoundin' like a deef and dumb sign. "

Mary had managed everything, of course. Her uncles had tried toremonstrate with her, telling her there were plenty of others to arrangethe flowers and attend to what the local newspaper would, in its accountof the affair, be sure to call the "collation, " and to make the hundredand one preparations necessary for even so small and simple a wedding asthis. But she only laughed at their remonstrances. 

"I wouldn't miss it for anything, " she said. "I have always wanted tomanage someone's wedding and I am certainly not going to let anyone elsemanage mine. I don't care a bit whether it is the proper thing or not. This isn't going to be a formal affair; I won't have it so. Uncle Shad, if you want to say 'Jumpin' fire' when Crawford drops the ring, as he isalmost sure to do, you have my permission. "

But Crawford did not drop the ring, and so the Captain's favoriteexclamation was not uttered, being unnecessary. In fact there were nomishaps, everything went exactly as it should, reception and "collation"included, and, to quote from the South Harniss local once more, "A goodtime was had by all. "

And when the bride and groom, dressed in their traveling costumes, camedown the stairs to the carriage which was to take them to the station, Mary ran back, amid the shower of rice and confetti, to kiss Uncle Zoethand Uncle Shad once more and whisper in their ears not to feel that shehad really gone, because she hadn't but would be back in just a littlewhile. 

"And I have told Isaiah about your rubbers and oilskins when it rains, "she added, in Shadrach's ear, "and he is not to forget Uncle Zoeth'smedicine. Good-by. Good-by. Don't be lonesome. Promise that you won't. "

But to promise is easy and to keep that promise is often hard, asShadrach observed when he and Zoeth were alone in the sitting-room thatevening. "I feel as if the whole vitals of this place had gone away onthat afternoon train, " the Captain admitted. "And yet I know it's awfulfoolish, 'cause she'll only be gone a couple of weeks. "

"I'm glad that question about the name is settled, " mused Zoeth. "Thatkind of troubled me, that did. "

The partners had worried not a little over the question of whetherCrawford's name was legally Smith or Farmer. If it were Farmer and hemust be so called in South Harniss, they feared the revival of the oldscandal and all its miserable gossip. But when they asked Crawford hereassured them. 

"I consulted my lawyer about that, " he said. "My father's middle namewas Smith; that is why he took it, I suppose. Edwin Smith is not so verydifferent from Edgar Smith Farmer, shorter, that's all. He and my motherwere married under the name of Smith. Mother never knew he had hadanother name. I was born Smith and christened Smith and my lawyertells me that Smith I am. If there had been any question I should havepetitioned to have the name changed. "

So that question was settled and Shadrach and Zoeth felt easier becauseof it. 

"Zoeth, " observed Shadrach, after replying to his friend's remarkconcerning the name, "do you know what I kind of felt as if we'd oughtto have had here this afternoon?"

"No, Shadrach, " replied Zoeth, "I don't. What was it?"

"Seemed to me we'd ought to had one of them music box chairs. I'dlike to have put it under that Keith woman and seen her face when theCampbells started to come. Ho, ho!"

"What in the world made you think of that?" demanded his partner. 

"Oh, I don't know. Thinkin' about Mary-'Gusta, I cal'late, set me torememberin' how we fust met her and about Marcellus's funeral and all. That made me think of the chair, you see. I ain't thought of it aforefor years. "

Zoeth nodded. "Shadrach, " he said, "that was a blessed day for you andme, the day when we brought that child home in our old buggy. The Lordput her there, Shadrach. "

"Well, I guess likely He did, maybe, in a way of speakin'. Does seem so, that's a fact. "

"Our lives was pretty sot and narrow afore she came. She's changedeverything. "

"That's so. Hello! What's that noise? I declare if it ain't Isaiahliftin' up his voice in song! In a hymn tune! What do you think ofthat?"

From the kitchen, above the rattle of dishes, Mr. Chase's nasal falsettoquavered shrilly:

 "There shall be showers of blessin's--"

The Captain interrupted. 

"Hi, you--what's your name--Jennie Lind--come in here, " he hailed. 

Mr. Chase appeared, his arms dripping soapsuds. "What do you want, callin' me out of my name?" he demanded. 

"Want to know what started you singin' about blessin's? Fust I thought'twas the weathervane squeakin'. What tuned you up, eh?"

Isaiah looked rather foolish, but he grinned. 

"I was thinkin' about Mary-'Gusta, " he said. 

"You was, eh? Well, she's been a blessin' to us, there's no doubt aboutthat. "

"Indeed she has, " concurred Zoeth. 

But Isaiah had the final word. 

"Huh!" he declared, "she's more'n one blessin', she's a whole shower. That's what set me to singin' about 'em. "

He departed for the kitchen once more, the falsetto rising triumphant:

 "There shall be showers of blessin's, Send 'em upon us, oh Lord!"

Captain Shad looked after him. Then he turned to his friend and partnerand said earnestly:

"Do you know, Isaiah's gettin' real kind of sensible in his old age. "