The school term ended on a Saturday morning in mid-December. Mary's
trunk was packed and ready, and she and it reached the South Station
long before train time. She was going home, home for the holidays, and
if she had been going on a trip around the world she could not have been
more delighted at the prospect. And her delight and anticipations were
shared in South Harniss. Her uncles' letters for the past fortnight had
contained little except joyful announcements of preparations for her
coming.
We are counting the minutes [wrote Zoeth]. The first thing Shadrach does
every morning is to scratch another day off the calendar. I never saw
him so worked up and excited and I calculate I ain't much different
myself. I try not to set my heart on things of this world more than I
ought to, but it does seem as if I couldn't think of much else but our
girl's coming back to us. I am not going to worry the way Shadrach does
about your getting here safe and sound. The Lord's been mighty good to
us and I am sure He will fetch you to our door all right. I am contented
to 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't
take the one that goes to Woods Hole. Zoeth is so fidgety and nervous
for 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 week
and if he don't roast the cat instead of the chicken he is calculating
to kill, it will be a mercy. I am the only one aboard the ship that
keeps his head and I tell them not to worry. Be sure you take that
through train. And look out for them electric cars, if you come to the
depot in one. Better settle on the one you are going to take and then
take the one ahead of it so as to be sure and not be late. Your train
leaves the dock at quarter-past four. The Woods Hole one is two minutes
earlier. Look out and not take that. Zoeth is afraid you will make a
mistake, but I laugh at him. Don't take the wrong train.
Mary laughed when she read these letters, but there was a choke in the
laugh. In spite of the perils of travel by the electrics and the New
Haven railroad, she reached South Harniss safe, sound, and reasonably
on time. The first person she saw on the platform of the station was
Captain Shadrach. He had been pacing that platform for at least forty
minutes.
He spied her at the same time and came rushing to greet her, both hands
outstretched.
“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 and
sufficient.
They rode home together in the old buggy. As they reached the corner by
the 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 straight
on.
“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 and
Company was there in the buggy with her. By all the rules of precedent
and South Harniss business the other should have been at the store. She
knew 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 sense
than to get sick the day you come home I'd--I'd--I don't know's
I wouldn't drown him. HE ain't sick--unless,” he added, as an
afterthought, “he's got Saint Vitus dance from hoppin' up and down to
look 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 and
it's goin' to stay that way this whole blessed evenin'. Zoeth and me
we talked it over. I didn't know but we'd better get Abel Snow's boy or
that pesky Annabel or somebody to stay while we was havin' supper. You
see, we was both sot on eatin' supper with you tonight, no matter store
or not, and Isaiah, he was just as sot as we was. But all to once Zoeth
had an idea. 'Shadrach,' he says, 'in Scriptur' times when people was
real happy, same as we are now, they used to make a sacrifice to the
Almighty to show how glad and grateful they was. Let's you and me make a
sacrifice; let's sacrifice this evenin's trade--let's shut up the store
on account of our girl's comin' home.' 'Good idea!' says I, so we did
it.”
Mary looked at him reproachfully.
“Oh, Uncle Shad,” she said, “you shouldn't have done that. It was dear
and sweet of you to think of it, but you shouldn't have done it. It
didn'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 is
mainly in Zoeth's eye. Fur's I'm concerned--well, Jabez Hedges told
me yesterday that Rastus Young told him he cal'lated he'd have to be
droppin' in at the store some of these nights to buy some rubber boots
and new ileskins. We sold him the ones he's got four years ago and he
ain't paid for 'em yet. No, no, Mary-'Gusta, don't you worry about that
sacrifice. I can sacrifice Rastus Young's trade eight days in the week
and make money by it. Course I didn't tell Zoeth that; have to humor
these pious folks much as we can, you know.”
Mary smiled, but she shook her head. “It's no use your talking to me in
that way, Uncle Shad,” she said. “I know you too well. And right in the
Christmas 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 at
arm's length and looked her over.
“My! my! my!” he exclaimed. “And this is our little Mary-'Gusta come
back again! It don't seem as if it could be, somehow.”
“But it is, Uncle Zoeth,” declared Mary, laughing. “And ISN'T it good
to be here! Well, Isaiah,” turning to Mr. Chase, who, aproned and
shirtsleeved 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 school
and her life at Mrs. Wyeth's. In her letters she had endeavored to tell
every 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 dinner
that time,” observed Mr. Hamilton. “Cal'late you was some surprised to
see him, wan't you?”
Mary smiled. “Why, yes,” she said, “but I think he was more surprised to
see me, Uncle Zoeth.”
Captain Shad laughed heartily. “Shouldn't wonder,” he admitted. “Didn't
bring any fly paper along with him, did he? No? Well, that was an
oversight. Maybe he thought fly time was past and gone. He seemed to be
a real nice kind of young feller when he was down here that summer. He's
older 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 in
the world are you interested in his good looks, Isaiah?”
Mr. Chase did his best to assume an expression of deep cunning. He
winked at his employers.
“Oh, I ain't interested--not 'special,” he declared, “but I didn't know
but SOME folks might be. Ho, ho!”
He roared at his own pleasantry. Captain Shadrach, however, did not
laugh.
“Some folks?” he repeated, tartly. “What are you talkin' about? What
folks?”
“Oh, I ain't sayin' what folks. I'm just sayin' SOME folks. Ho, ho! You
know 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 you
can help.”
The self-satisfied grin faded from Isaiah's face and was succeeded by a
look 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's
all. Well, Mary-'Gusta, I cal'late, if you've had supper enough, you and
me and Zoeth will go into the settin'-room, where we can all talk and I
can 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 just
then. He stepped between Captain Shadrach and the door leading to the
sitting-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's
a 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,” he
suggested. “Tell 'em you'll give 'em three guesses. There, there!” he
added, good-naturedly, pushing the irate Mr. Chase out of the “channel.”
“Don't block the fairway any longer. It's all right, Isaiah. You and
me 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 Captain
Shad could think of, had received answers to all her own, and had
gone to her room for the night, Mr. Hamilton turned to his partner and
observed mildly:
“Shadrach, what made you so dreadful peppery to Isaiah this evenin'? I
declare, I thought you was goin' to take his head off.”
The Captain grunted. “I will take it off some time,” he declared, “if he
don't keep the lower end of it shut when he'd ought to. You heard what
he 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 to
joke like one while that girl of ours is around. Puttin' notions about
fellers and good looks and keepin' company into her head! You might
expect such stuff from them fool drummers that come to the store, but an
old leather-skinned image like Isaiah Chase ought to have more sense. We
don't want such notions put in her head, do we?”
Zoeth rubbed his chin. He did not speak and his silence seemed to
irritate 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 sort
of natural to young folks Mary-'Gusta's age.”
“Rubbish! I don't believe that girl's got a single one of 'em in her
mind.”
“Maybe not, but they'll be there some day. Ah, well,” he added, “we
mustn't be selfish, you and me, Shadrach. It'll be dreadful hard to give
her up to somebody else, but if that somebody is a good man, kind and
straight 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 SHE
makes the mistake that I--”
His friend interrupted.
“Shh! shh!” he broke in, quickly. “Don't talk so, Zoeth. Come on to
bed,” he added, rising from his chair. “This very evenin' I was callin'
Isaiah names for talkin' about 'fellers' and such, and here you and I
have been sittin' talkin' nothin' else. If you hear me say 'fool' in my
sleep tonight just understand I'm talkin' to myself, that's all. Come on
aloft, Zoeth, and turn in.”
The following morning Mary astonished her uncles by announcing that
as soon as she had helped Isaiah with the breakfast dishes and the bed
making she was going up to the store.
“What for?” demanded Captain Shad. “Course we'll be mighty glad to have
your company, but Zoeth and me presumed likely you'd be for goin' round
callin' on some of the other girls today.”
“Well, I'm not. If they want to see me they can call on me here. I'm
going up to the store with you and Uncle Zoeth. I want to help sell
those 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 Shadrach
and I are goin' to let you sell goods in that store. We won't hear of
it, 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 right
when you was just a--a girl, a South Harnisser like the rest of us, but
now 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 live
up to the style of it. 'Anyhow, now that you're there, Mary-'Gusta, a
young lady, same as I said, we ain't--”
But Mary interrupted. “Hush, Uncle Shad,” she commanded. “Hush, this
minute! You're talking nonsense, I AM a South Harniss girl and I'm NOT
a Boston young lady. My chief reasons for being so very happy at the
thought of coming home here for my Christmas vacation were, first, that
I should see you and Uncle Zoeth and Isaiah and the house and the horse
and the cat and the hens, and, next, that I could help you with the
Christmas trade at the store. I know perfectly well you need me. I'm
certain 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 the
denial, however, by adding, although his partner had not spoken: “Shut
up, 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 remainder
of the forenoon she was very busy. In spite of the partners' protests,
in fact paying no more attention to those perturbed men of business than
if they were flies to be brushed aside when bothersome, she went ahead,
arranging, rearranging, dusting, writing price tickets, lettering
placards, doing all sorts of things, and waiting on customers in the
intervals. At noon, when she and her Uncle Zoeth left for home and
dinner, she announced herself in a measure satisfied. “Of course there
is a great deal to do yet,” she said, “but the stock looks a little more
as if it were meant to sell and less as if it were heaped up ready to be
carted off and buried.”
That afternoon the store of Hamilton and Company was visited by a goodly
number of South Harniss residents. That evening there were more. The
news that Mary-'Gusta Lathrop was at home and was “tendin' store” for
her uncles spread and was much discussed. The majority of those who came
did so not because they contemplated purchasing extensively, but because
they wished to see what effect the fashionable finishing school had had
upon the girl. The general opinion seemed to be that it “hadn't changed
her a mite.” This result, however, was considered a desirable one by the
majority, but was by some criticized. Among the critics was Mrs. Rebecca
Mullet, whose daughter Irene also was away at school undergoing the
finishing process.
“Well!” declared Mrs. Mullet, with decision, as she and her husband
emerged from the store together. “Well! If THAT'S a sample of what
the school she goes to does for them that spend their money on it, I'm
mighty glad we didn't send our Rena there, ain't you, Christopher?”
Mr. Chris Mullet, who had received that very week a bill for his
daughter'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 for
two minutes without puttin' on poor mouth. I suppose likely you tell
everybody 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 are
of an overcoat, I should think.”
Mr. Mullet muttered something to the effect that he was dum sure he was
not proud of his present overcoat. His wife ignored the complaint.
“And you'll be proud of Irene when she comes home,” she declared. “She
won't be like that Mary-'Gusta, standin' up behind the counter and
sellin' goods.”
“Why, now, Becky, what's the matter with her doin' that? She always used
to sell goods, and behind that very counter, too. And she certainly can
SELL 'em!” with a reminiscent chuckle.
Mrs. Mullet glared at him. “Yes,” she drawled, with sarcasm, “so she
can--to some folks. Look at you, with all that Christmas junk under your
arm! 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 any
idea 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 fool
like 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's
all right. She's as pretty as a picture, to begin with; she's got money
of her own to spend; and she's been away among folks that have got a lot
more. All them things together are enough to spoil 'most any girl, but
they haven't spoiled her. She's come home here not a mite stuck-up, not
flirty nor silly nor top-lofty, but just as sensible and capable and
common-folksy as ever she was, and that's sayin' somethin'. If our Rena
turns 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 her
rearranging and displaying of the Christmas goods helped her and her
uncles to dispose of them. In fact, for the three days before Christmas
it became necessary to call in the services of Annabel as assistant
saleslady. The store was crowded, particularly in the evenings, and
Zoeth and Captain Shad experienced for the first time in months the
sensation 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 know
when I've seen so many young fellers in here. Who's that young squirt
Mary-'Gusta's waitin' on now? The one with the whittled-in back to his
overcoat. 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 fatigues
of coffin selling, and garbed as usual in city clothes the splendor of
which, as Captain Shad said afterwards, “would have given a blind man
eyestrain.” Daniel's arms were filled with purchases and he and Mary
were 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 found
somethin' 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. The
following week, the last of Mary's vacation, was certain to be dull
enough. “Nothin' to do but change presents for folks,” prophesied
Captain Shad. “Give them somethin' they want and take back somethin'
we don't want. That kind of trade is like shovelin' fog up hill, more
exercise than profit.”
Christmas was a happy day at the white house by the shore, a day of
surprises. To begin with, there were the presents which were beside the
plates at breakfast. Mary had brought gifts for all, Captain Shadrach,
Zoeth, and Isaiah. There was nothing expensive, of course, but each had
been chosen to fit the taste and liking of the recipient and there was
no doubt that each choice was a success. Isaiah proudly displayed a
jacknife which was a small toolchest, having four blades, a corkscrew,
a screwdriver, a chisel, a button-hook and goodness knows what else
besides.
“Look at that!” crowed Isaiah, exhibiting the knife, bristling like a
porcupine, on his open palm. “Look at it! By time, there ain't nothin' I
can'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 and
ferocious-looking implement which projected from the steel tangle. “I
cal'late I've sized up about everything else, but I can't seem to make
out 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 you
made for us last week. You drill a hole in the crust nigh the edge of
the plate and then put that thing in and pry the upper deck loose. Good
idea, Isaiah! I--”
“Aw, go to grass!” interrupted the indignant Mr. Chase. “I notice you
always eat enough of my pies, decks--yes, and hull and riggin', too.”
Then there was THE great surprise, that which the partners had prepared
for their idolized niece. Mary found beside her plate a small, oblong
package, wrapped in tissue paper and labeled, “To Mary-'Gusta, from
Uncle Shadrach and Uncle Zoeth, with a Merry Christmas.” Inside the
paper was a pasteboard box, inside that a leather case, and inside THAT
a handsome gold watch and chain. Then there was much excited exclaiming
and delighted thanks on Mary's part, and explanations and broad grins on
that of the givers.
“But you shouldn't have done it! Of course you shouldn't!” protested
Mary. “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. Edgar
Emery's nephew is in the business up to Providence and he picked it out
for 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 to
get '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,” she
said.
“But you like it, don't you?” queried Zoeth, hopefully.
“Like it! Oh, Uncle Zoeth, don't you KNOW I like it! Who could help
liking such a beautiful thing?”
“How's it show up alongside the watches the other girls have up to that
Boston school?” asked Shadrach, with ill-concealed anxiety. “We wouldn't
want 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 to
her what this will mean to me,” declared Mary. “I shall keep it and love
it all my life.”
The partners heaved a sigh of relief. Whether or not the watch was fine
enough for their Mary-'Gusta had been a source of worriment and much
discussion. And then Isaiah, with his customary knack of saying the
wrong thing, tossed a brickbat into the puddle of general satisfaction.
“That's so,” he said; “that's so, Mary-'Gusta. You can keep it all
your life, and when you get to be an old woman and married and have
grandchildren then you can give it to them.”
Captain Shadrach, who had taken up his napkin preparatory to tucking
it under his chin, turned in his chair and glared at the unconscious
steward.
“Well, by the jumpin' fire!” he exclaimed, with conviction. “The feller
is 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 was
that when Mary-'Gusta was old and married and had--”
“There you go again! Married and children! Say, did it ever run acrost
your mind that you was a little mite previous?”
“I never said children. What I said was when she was old and had
grandchildren.”
“Grandchildren! Well, that's a dum sight MORE previous. Let's have
breakfast, all hands, for the land sakes! Isaiah'll have us cruisin'
along with the third and fourth generation in a few minutes. I'M
satisfied with this one!”
That evening, at bedtime, as the partners separated in the upper hall to
go 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 to
me 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 deserve
happiness like this?”
Shadrach grinned.
“I ain't puttin' in any testimony on my own hook,” he said, dryly, “but
I don't seem to remember your bein' desperately wicked, Zoeth. Course
you MAY have got drunk and disorderly that time when Mary-'Gusta and I
left you and went to Boston, but I kind of doubt it.”
“Hush, hush, Shadrach! Don't joke about serious things. What I mean is
have you and I walked the Lord's way as straight as we'd ought to? We've
tried--that is, seems 's if we had--but I don't know. Anyhow, all this
afternoon I've had a funny feelin' that you and me and Mary-'Gusta
was--well was as if the tide had been comin' in for us all these years
since she's been livin' with us, and as if now 'twould begin to go out
again.”
The Captain laughed. “And that's what you call a FUNNY feelin'!” he
exclaimed. “Zoeth, I've got a funny feelin', too, but I know what's the
reason for it--the reason is turkey and plum puddin' and mince pie and
the land knows what. When a couple of old hulks like you and me h'ist
in a cargo of that kind it's no wonder we have feelin's. Good night,
shipmate.”