The spring term was an interesting one and there were other interests
as well. Crawford called more frequently, the plans for Commencement
requiring 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 first
developed an amazing fondness for that relative's society, now came less
often. He was in the second stage of the pretty-girl disease mentioned
by his aunt; the fever and delirium had passed, and he was now cooling
off. It cannot be said that the fever had been in the least encouraged.
Mary was pleasant and agreeable when he called, but she would not
treat him as a confidant or an intimate; she did not accept any of his
invitations to dances or the theater, and she would not flirt even the
least little bit. The last was the most unsatisfactory drawback, because
the susceptible Samuel was fond of flirtations and usually managed to
keep at least three going at the same time. Therefore, the cooling-off
process was, in this case, a bit more rapid than usual. Sam's calls and
dinners at his cousin Emily's residence had decreased from two or three
times a week to an uncertain once a fortnight. Mary, of course, noticed
this, but she felt no regret. Crawford, Sam's roommate, must have
noticed it also, but if he felt regret he managed to conceal the feeling
remarkably well.
Early in May Captain Shadrach came up to the city to buy summer goods
for 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, the
Captain still refused.
Don't ask me, Mary-'Gusta [he wrote]. For the dear land sakes don't ask
me to come to that place and stay. I'd do 'most anything for you, and I
will do that if you are dead sot on it, but I do hope you ain't. I will
come up there and see you of course and I'll even stay to supper if I
get 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' up
so 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 every
minute, but could “lay to and be comf'table” if he wanted to. He was
invited to supper at the Wyeth house, however, and while there Mrs.
Wyeth found an opportunity to take him aside and talk with him on a
subject which he found interesting and a trifle disquieting.
“Now mind,” said the lady, “I am by no means convinced that the affair
is anything but a mere boy and girl friendship, or that it is ever
likely to be more than that. But I did think I ought to tell you about
it 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--he
just came into our store down home, that's all. But I did meet him and I
must 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 calls
here?”
“Oh, yes, ma'am, she's written. She ain't the kind of girl to keep
anything back from us; at least, if she is, she's changed a heap since
she came away to school. She's told us about his comin' here and about
you and him and her goin' to that--what-d'ye-call-it--hookey game. She
wrote 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 has
been some years since you met Crawford Smith and I think, everything
considered, you should meet him again and decide for yourself whether
or not you still consider him a proper young person to call upon your
niece. Suppose you dine with us again tomorrow evening and I invite
young Smith also. Then--”
But the Captain interrupted. He had a plan of his own for the following
evening 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 of
notion that Mary-'Gusta and me might get our supper at a--a eatin'-house
or somewhere tomorrow night and then maybe we'd take in--I mean go to
a show--a theater, I should say. I didn't know but I'd ask this young
Smith feller to go along. And--and--” remembering his politeness, “of
course we'd be real glad if you'd come, too,” he added.
But Mrs. Wyeth, although she thanked him and expressed herself as
heartily in favor of the supper and theater party, refused to become a
member of it. The Captain bore the shock of the refusal with, to say the
least, manful resignation. He had a huge respect for Mrs. Wyeth, and
he liked her because his beloved Mary-'Gusta liked her so well, but his
liking 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 the
Quincy House and the three dined together, after which they saw the
performance of “The Music Master” at the Tremont Theater. Crawford found
the dinner quite as entertaining as the play. Captain Shadrach was in
high good humor and his remarks during the meal were characteristic.
He persisted in addressing the dignified waiter as “Steward” and in
referring to the hotel kitchen as the “galley.” He consulted his young
guests before ordering and accepted their selections gracefully if not
always 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 are
just passengers. If you say we've got to eat--what is it?--consummer
soup--why, I suppose likely we have. I'll take my chances if Crawford
will. Course, if I was alone here, I'd probably stick to oyster stew and
roast beef. I know what they are. And it's some comfort to be sure of
what you're gettin', as the sick feller said when the doctor told him he
had 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 old
enough to be your father, for one thing, and for another a handle's all
right on a jug or a sasspan, but don't seem as if 'twas necessary to
take 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 cement
the friendship--the book fellers are always tellin' about cementin'
friendships--with this supper of ours, eh? If we only had some of
Isaiah's last batch of mincemeat we could sartinly do it with that; it
was the nighest thing to cement ever I saw put on a table. I asked him
if he filled his pies with a trowel and you ought to have heard him
sputter. You remember Isaiah, don't you, Crawford? Tall, spindlin'
critter, sails cook for Zoeth and me at the house down home. He ain't
pretty, but his heart's in the right place. That's kind of strange,
too,” he added with a chuckle, “when you consider how nigh his
shoulder-blades are to the top of his legs.”
Between his stories and jokes he found time to ask his male guest a
few questions and these questions, although by no means offensively
personal, were to the point. He inquired concerning the young man's home
life, about his ambitions and plans for the future, about his friends
and intimates at college. Crawford, without being in the least aware
that he was being catechized, told a good deal, and Captain Shadrach's
appraising 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 good
night in the Wyeth parlor, Shadrach said:
“A nice boy, I should say. Yes, sir, a real nice young feller, as young
fellers 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 had
devoted 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 her
own. 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 you
say it to me fust, at any rate. There, there, dearie! Don't blow me
clean 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 jokes
overboard. Yes, I like that Crawford Smith fust-rate. But the funniest
thing about him is the way he reminds me of somebody else. Who that
somebody is I can't make out nor remember. Maybe I'll think sometime or
other, but anyhow I like him now for his own sake. I asked him to come
down and see us sometime this summer. Wonder if he will.”
Mary-'Gusta wondered, too, but she would have wondered more had she
known what that coming summer was to mean to her. The morning after the
theater party Captain Shadrach called to say good-by to Mrs. Wyeth. That
lady asked some questions and listened with interest and approval to his
report concerning Crawford Smith.
“I'm glad you were so favorably impressed with the boy,” she said. “As I
told you, I like him myself. And you approve of his friendship with your
niece?”
The Captain rubbed his chin. “Why, yes, ma'am,” he said. “I approve
of that, all right, and I cal'late Zoeth would, too. Fact is, where
Mary-'Gusta's concerned 'tain't nothin' BUT friendship, so fur, and I
guess 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 I
can'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 objected
to being addressed as one of the old folks; at any rate, she made no
answer, but asked a question instead.
“Captain Gould,” she said, “what plans have you and Mr. Hamilton made
for Mary this summer?”
“Plans, ma'am? Why, I don't know's we've made any. Of course, we're
countin' on her comin' down to South Harniss when she gets through her
school, and--”
“Just a moment, Captain. I have a friend who is very anxious to have you
change that plan for one of hers. Come in, Letitia. Captain Gould, this
is my friend, Miss Pease. Now, Letitia, tell the Captain your plan--the
one you told me last night.”
Miss Pease told of her plan and Captain Shad listened, at first with
astonishment, then with a troubled expression and at last with a
combination of both.
“There,” said Miss Pease, in conclusion, “that is my plan. It means a
great deal to me and I hope it may mean something to Mary.”
“It will be a wonderful opportunity for her,” declared Mrs. Wyeth
emphatically.
“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. It
sartinly would be a wonderful chance for her and it's somethin' me and
Zoeth could never give her or think of givin'. But--but--”
“Of course,” said Miss Pease, as he hesitated, “if she is needed very
much at home--if you feel you cannot spare her--”
“'Tain't that, ma'am,” interrupted the Captain quickly. “Land knows
Zoeth and me would miss her awful, but we wouldn't let that stand in the
way--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 much
for her. Course we ain't well off, Zoeth and I ain't, but we ain't right
down 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 a
mistake, Captain Gould. I hope you don't think I am offering this as a
charity or purely as a favor to Mary. No, indeed! I am asking it as a
favor to myself. I must have a companion, otherwise I cannot go. And
Mary is just the companion I need. I am very fond of her and I think she
likes me. I am not going to urge too much, Captain Gould, but I do hope
you will consider the matter with Mr. Hamilton and let me hear from you
soon. And I am hoping you will consent. I promise to take good care of
your girl and bring her back safe and sound in September. And I shall
not 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, returned
on the afternoon train to South Harniss to tell his friend and partner
of Miss Pease's plan. Mary, who accompanied him to the Boston station,
wondered why he seemed so preoccupied and quiet. If she had known what
his 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 her
guest and friend and companion.