Mary-'Gusta, even though she lives to be a very old woman, will never
forget that ride to South Harniss. It was the longest ride she had ever
taken, 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 not
remind her of her queerness and badness. More than all, she was going on
a journey, a real journey, like a grown-up or a person in a story, and
her family--David and the dolls--were journeying with her. What the
journey might mean to her, or to what sort of place she was going--these
questions did not trouble her in the least. Childlike, she was quite
satisfied with the wonderful present, and to the future, even the
dreaded 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 along
the roadside. She did not speak, unless spoken to, and the two men spoke
but seldom, each apparently thinking hard. Occasionally the Captain
would sigh, or whistle, or groan, as if his thoughts were disturbing and
most 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 my
life.”
“Gosh! I want to know!” exclaimed the astonished Shadrach; then he shook
his head, chuckled, and ordered the horse to hurry up.
The dolls were arranged in a row against the back of the dashboard. In
front of them, and between the Captain's feet and Zoeth's, the battered
satchel containing the child's everyday dress and visiting essentials
was squeezed. Mary-'Gusta's feet stuck straight out and rested on the
top of the satchel. David, in a basket with the lid tied fast, was
planted between the last mentioned feet. David did not appear to share
his--or her--owner's love of travel. The cat wailed lugubriously at
intervals.
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 charge
not to forget her manners, if she had any, “I'm sure I'll like it very
much.”
“Oh, you are, eh? Well, that's nice. What makes you so sure?”
Mary-'Gusta reflected. She remembered what Mrs. Bailey had said after a
week's visit in Bayport, which is fourteen miles from Ostable. “I think
everybody 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 did
you 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 asked
me.”
“Sho! Wouldn't I? Why not?”
“'Cause grown-up folks don't like to be asked how old they are. I asked
Mrs. 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 make
port, 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 like
the looks of it?”
They had emerged from a long stretch of woods and were at the summit of
a little hill. From the crest of this hill the road wound down past an
old cemetery with gray, moss-covered slate tombstones, over a bridge
between 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. This
highway, in turn, wound and twisted--there are few straight roads
on Cape Cod--between other and lower hills until it became a village
street, the main street of South Harniss. The sun was low in the west
and its light bathed the clustered roofs in a warm glow, touched
windows and vanes with fire, and twinkled and glittered on the waters
of Nantucket Sound, which filled the whole southern horizon. There was
little breeze and the smoke from the chimneys rose almost straight. So,
too, did the smoke from the distant tugs and steamers. There were two or
three schooners far out, and nearer shore, a sailboat. A pretty picture,
one which artists have painted and summer visitors enthused over many
times.
To Mary-'Gusta it was new and wonderful. The child was in a mood to like
almost anything just then. Mrs. Hobbs was miles away and the memory of
the music chair and her own disgrace and shame were but memories. She
drew 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 town
hall. Nobody lives there but the selectmen and they ain't permanent
boarders--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 moved
faster. It rolled through the main street, where the Captain and
Mr. Hamilton were kept busy answering hails and returning bows from
citizens, male and female. Through the more thickly settled portion of
the village it moved, until at a point where there were fewer shops and
the houses were older and less up-to-date, it reached the corner of a
narrow cross road. There it stopped before a frame building bearing the
sign, “Hamilton and Company, Dry Goods, Groceries, Boots and Shoes and
Notions.” There was a narrow platform at the front of the building and
upon this platform were several men, mostly of middle age or older.
Mary-'Gusta noticed that most of these men were smoking. If she had been
older she might have noticed that each man either sat upon the platform
steps or leaned against the posts supporting its roof. Not one was
depending solely upon his own muscles for support; he sat upon or leaned
against something wooden and substantial.
As the buggy drew alongside the platform the men evinced considerable
interest. Not enough to make them rise or relinquish support, but
interest, 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's
Annabel?” 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 the
door, “tell Annabel, Zoeth and Shad's come.”
“Jabe,” who was propped against a post, languidly pushed himself away
from it, opened the door behind him and shouted: “Annabel, come out
here!” Then he slouched back and leaned against the post again.
The door opened and a stout, red-faced young woman appeared. She looked
much more like an Eliza than an Annabel. She had a newspaper in her
hand.
“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 from
his trousers pocket and waved it toward the buggy. Annabel looked; then
she 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 of
spools of cotton and--and some salt pork and sugar. Ezra Howland bought
the pork. He wasn't satisfied; said there wasn't enough lean in it to
suit 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' in
pretty 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 you
can have yours. Get dap, January.”
The horse, whose name was Major but who was accustomed to being
addressed 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,” he
said. “Annabel means well, she's real obligin'; but she ain't a good
hand at business.”
Shadrach snorted. “Obligin' nothin'!” he retorted. “We're the ones that
was obligin' when we agreed to pay her seventy-five cents for settin'
astern of the counter and readin' the Advocate. I told you when you
hired her that she wasn't good for nothin' but ballast.”
“I know, Shadrach. I'd ought to have stayed to home and kept store
myself. 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 it
up!” went on Shadrach. “They owe us enough now to keep a decent family
all winter. Reg'lar town dead-beats, that's what they are. You couldn't
get 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!” he
said.
“If you'd stayed to home you'd have charged up the stuff just the same
as 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 that
charged 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? Nor
freeze neither?”
“'Twas only last week she did it,” protested his partner. “Folks don't
freeze in April, seems to me.”
“Aw, be still! Don't talk no more about it. By fire!” with a sudden
change of subject and a burst of enthusiasm, “look at that horse, will
you! Turned right in at the gate without my pullin' the helm once or
sayin' a word--knows as much as a Christian, that horse does.”
The buggy had rocked and plowed its way over the hummocks and through
the sand of the narrow lane and was at the top of a grass-covered
knoll, a little hill. At the foot of the hill was the beach, strewn
with seaweed, and beyond, the Sound, its waters now a rosy purple in
the sunset light. On the slope of the hill toward the beach stood a low,
rambling, white house, a barn, and several sheds and outbuildings. There
were lilac bushes by the front door of the house, a clam-shell walk from
the lane to that door, and, surrounding the whole, a whitewashed picket
fence. A sandy rutted driveway led from the rear of the house and the
entrance of the barn down to a big gate, now wide open. It was through
this gateway and along this drive that the sagacious Major was pulling
the buggy.
Mary-'Gusta stared at the house. As she stared the back door was thrown
open and a tall, thin man came out. He was in his shirtsleeves, his arms
were bare to the elbow, and to Mary-'Gusta's astonishment he wore an
apron, a gingham apron similar to those worn by Mrs. Hobbs when at work
in the kitchen.
“Ahoy, there, Isaiah!” hailed the Captain. “Here we are.”
The man with the apron took a big nickel watch from the upper pocket
of his vest, looked at it, and shook his head. Upon his face, which was
long and thin like the rest of him, there was a grieved expression.
“A little mite late, ain't we, Isaiah?” said Zoeth, hastily. “Hope we
ain'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 the
resignation 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 at
half-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!' I
had 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's
a satchel here and some more stuff. Sooner this craft's unloaded the
sooner 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 is
Mr. Isaiah Chase. Isaiah, this is Mary Lathrop, Cap'n Marcellus's little
girl. She's come to--t--”
“To make us a little visit,” put in the Captain, promptly. “You want to
get acquainted with Isaiah, Mary-'Gusta; he's cook and steward for me
and Mr. Zoeth. That's right; shake hands and be sociable.”
Mary-'Gusta extended her hand and Mr. Chase, after wiping his own hand
on 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--and
the 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. Isaiah
dropped 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. Are
you, David?”
David howled and clawed at the cover of the basket. Mr. Chase backed
away.
“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 doll
babies and things.”
Isaiah stared at the dolls. Mary-'Gusta stopped patting the basket and
hastened 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 the
dolls. Mr. Hamilton carried the other two, and Isaiah, with the valise
in one hand and the basket containing the shrieking David at arm's
length in the other, led the way. Captain Shad, after informing them
that he would be aboard in a jiffy, drove on to the barn.
The room they first entered was the kitchen. It was small, rather
untidy, 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 the
nation will I do with this critter?”
The “critter” was David, who was apparently turning somersaults in the
basket.
Zoeth hesitated. Mary-'Gusta settled the question.
“Put him right down, please,” she said. “He'll be better soon as he's
put 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 at
it rather dubiously and for an instant seemed about to speak, but
she did not, and followed Mr. Hamilton from the kitchen, through the
adjoining room, evidently the dining-room, and up a narrow flight of
stairs.
“I cal'late we'll put her in the spare room, won't we, Isaiah?” queried
Zoeth, with some hesitation.
Isaiah grunted. “Guess so,” he said, ungraciously, “Ain't no other place
that I know of. Bed ain't made, though.”
The spare room was of good size, and smelled shut up and musty, as
spare rooms in the country usually do. It was furnished with a bureau,
washstand, and two chairs, each painted in a robin's egg blue with
sprays of yellow roses. There were several pictures on the walls, their
subjects religious and mournful. The bed was, as Mr. Chase had said, not
made; 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,” explained
Isaiah. “Last time 'twas unmade was when Zoeth had that minister from
Trumet here of a Saturday and Sunday. Every day I've cal'lated to make
up that bed, but I don't seem to get no time. I'm so everlastin' busy I
don't get time for nothin', somehow.”
“I can make the bed,” declared Mary-'Gusta, eagerly. “I can make beds
real well. Mrs. Hobbs told me so--once.”
The two men looked at each other. Before either could speak a
tremendous racket broke out on the floor below, a sound of something--or
somebody--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'm
a-comin'!”
From the kitchen came Captain Shadrach's voice. It sounded excited and
angry.
“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 sitting
in a chair, rubbing his knees, and Mary-'Gusta seated on the floor
beside 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 be
killed. You ain't killed, are you, David?”
David appeared to be remarkably sound and active. He wriggled from his
owner'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 elaborate
sarcasm; “it's lovely. Course I don't mind breakin' both MY legs, but if
that cat had been--er--bruised or anything I should have felt bad. Well,
Isaiah,” he added, tartly, turning to the grinning “steward,” “are them
fried 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'd
like to eat one more square meal afore somethin' else happens to finish
me altogether. By fire! if this ain't been a day! First that chair, and
then 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 for
tomorrow's program; if it's up to this, I'll need strength to last it
through. Come on!”
That first supper in the white house by the shore was an experience for
Mary-'Gusta. Mrs. Hobbs, in spite of her faultfinding and temper, had
been a competent and careful housekeeper. Meals which she prepared were
well cooked and neatly served. This meal was distinctly different.
There was enough to eat--in fact, an abundance--fried cod and the fried
potatoes and hot biscuits and dried-apple pie; but everything was put
upon the table at the same time, and Mr. Chase sat down with the others
and did not even trouble to take off his apron. The tablecloth was not
very clean and the knives and forks and spoons did not glitter like
those the child had been accustomed to see.
Even Mr. Hamilton, to whom most of the things of this world--his beloved
store excepted--seemed to be unessential trivialities, spoke of the
table linen.
“Seems to me,” he observed, in his gentle and hesitating way, “this
tablecloth'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 we
got 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 have
company.”
“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 and
couldn't move. If you expect me to do washin' as well as cook and sweep
and keep house and--and shovel snow, and--”
“Shovel snow! What kind of talk's that? There ain't been any snow since
February.”
“Don't make no difference. When there was I shoveled it, didn't I? It
ain't no use; I try and try, but I can't give satisfaction and I might's
well quit. I don't have to stay here and slave myself to death. I can
get another job. There's folks in this town that's just dyin' to have me
work for em.”
Captain Shadrach muttered something to the effect that if Isaiah did
work for them they might die sooner. Mr. Chase rose from his seat.
“All right,” he said, with dignity. “All right, this settles it. I'm
through. 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 might
say, 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 kitchen
door. Zoeth, who was evidently much disturbed, rose and laid a hand on
his arm.
“There, there, Isaiah,” he pleaded. “Don't act so. We ain't findin' any
fault. Shadrach wasn't findin' fault, was you, Shadrach?”
“No, no, course I wasn't. Don't talk so foolish, Isaiah. Nobody wants
you to quit. All I said was--Come back here and set down. Your tea's
gettin' all cold.”
To Mary-'Gusta it seemed as if the tea had been at least cool to begin
with. However, Mr. Chase suffered himself to be led back to the table
and attacked his supper in injured silence. Mary-'Gusta offered a
suggestion.
“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 first
to speak.
“You don't say!” he exclaimed.
“Yes, sir, I do. And,” with a glance at the silver, “I can scour
knives and forks and spoons, too. I used to help Mrs. Hobbs scour 'em
sometimes.”
Even Shadrach had no remark to make. He gazed at the child, then at
Zoeth, and drew a long breath.
As soon as supper was over the Captain and Mr. Hamilton hastened up to
the village and the store.
“You better go to bed pretty soon, Mary-'Gusta,” said Zoeth. “You're
tired, I know. Isaiah'll make your bed for you. We'll be on hand and see
you first thing in the morning. Isaiah'll go up with you and blow out
your 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 awaiting
them. Isaiah had a story to tell.
“I never see a young-one like that in this world,” declared Isaiah. “You
know 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; good
enough to satisfy ME, and you know that means somethin' 'cause I ain't
easy to satisfy. And talk! Say, I never had a child talk same as she
does. 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; nigher
seventeen, if you ask me. Pumpin' me about funerals, she was, and about
folks dyin' and so on. Said she cal'lated she'd have a doll's funeral
some time. 'For mercy sakes, what for?' I says. 'Can't you think up
anything pleasanter'n that to play? That kind of game would give me the
blue creeps!' She, thought that over--she generally thinks about a thing
for five minutes afore she talks about it--and says she, 'I know,' she
says, 'but a person must go to funerals and so it's better to get used
to 'em and know how to behave. I shouldn't want my dolls,' she says, 'to
do things at funerals that make people feel bad and laugh.' I couldn't
get that through my head. 'If they felt bad they wouldn't laugh, would
they?' says I. 'THEY wouldn't--the ones that felt bad wouldn't,' says
she, 'but others might laugh at them. And that would make the person who
was to blame feel TERRIBLY.' Now what was all that about? Can you make
any sense of it?”
Captain Shadrach smiled sheepishly. “I cal'late me and Zoeth have an
idea what she was drivin' at,” he said. “Go on, Isaiah; what else did
she say?”
“What didn't she say? Wanted to know if I thought God would knock
anybody'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 I
knew, He wasn't in the habit of doin' it. She said that Mrs. Hobbs told
her that if she wasn't punished for her wickedness in this world she
would be in the next. She was real kind of scared about it, seemed to
me. 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. “Or
if 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 dolls
along with her, three on one side and two on t'other. Wanted me to be
sure and wake all hands of 'em up on time in the mornin'. He, he! She
undressed 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 she
can't. And all the time a-talkin', one minute like a child and the next
like 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?” asked
the Captain. “Where's the cat?”
“He's out in the barn, locked in. She had to go out along with me when
I toted him there, and kiss him good night and tell him not to be
frightened, and goodness knows what all--you'd think she was that cat's
mother, 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 I
ever thought would be fetchin' a child to visit you. Say, you ain't
cal'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' a
child? Keep her for good, the idea!”
Isaiah chuckled. “'Cordin' to my notion,” he said, “you wouldn't have
to 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 a
born manager. You ought to see her handle them dolls and that cat.”
When the two partners of Hamilton and Company went upstairs to their
own 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 such
a 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 wonder
if Marcellus knows what's happened.”
His tone was not loud, but it or the lamplight in her face awakened
Mary-'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 and
I was goin' to bed and we looked in to see if you was all right, that's
all. You must go right to sleep again, dearie.”
“Yes, sir,” said Mary-'Gusta, obediently. Then she added, “I said my
prayers 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 seemed
to be made up.
“I guess I will say 'em again,” she said. “There's somethin' in 'em
maybe you'd ought to hear.” She closed her eyes. “Please God bless
Father--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 and
Minnehaha. 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 sorry
and won't do it again. And--and, Oh, yes!--bless Mr. Chase, Amen. You
don'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. “Good
night,” said Mary-'Gusta. Zoeth hesitated, then he walked over and
kissed her.
“Good night, little girl,” he said.
“Good night, Mr. Hamilton,” said Mary-'Gusta. Then she turned
expectantly toward the Captain. Shadrach fidgeted, turned to go, and
then, turning back, strode to the bed, brushed the soft cheek with his
rough one and hastened out into the hall. Zoeth followed him, bearing
the 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 Marcellus
was 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'll
happen in the future. Perhaps he knows that, too.”
“Humph! Well, if he does, he knows a heap more'n I do. Good night.”