Mary-'Gusta Part 23

Mr. Chase s.n.a.t.c.hed it from her hand. He looked at the picture and then at 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?"

"n.o.body 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 anybody else 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 one you did ask about?"

"I knew who the others were. I knew my father and Uncle Zoeth and Uncle Shad. But I didn't know who the Farmer one was. It says 'Firm of Hall and 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't mentioned in this house. That's all I can tell you and you mustn't ask any more questions. Why, if your Uncle Zoeth--yes, or your Uncle Shad either--was to hear you askin' about him--they'd--I don't know what they'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. It belongs to Uncle Shad. You mustn't tear it--give it to me."

Isaiah hesitated. "Give it to you?" he repeated. "What'll you do with it?"

"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 her the 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 tell either 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 the photograph in the pocket of the trunk. She did not mention it again nor did Isaiah, but thereafter when her active imagination constructed a life romance with Mr. Zoeth Hamilton as its hero, that romance contained a villain also, and the villain's name was Edgar S. Farmer. And the firm of Hall and Company, her father's firm, had a fourth and most mysterious partner who was a blackguard.

CHAPTER VIII

The summers and winters came and went and Mary-'Gusta's birthdays came and went with them. She grew taller and more mature. Her place as a.s.sistant housekeeper was recognized now and even Isaiah consulted her on matters of household management. As for her uncles, she managed them whether consulted or not. They took the place of the discarded dolls; she was too old for dolls now, although David was still mothered and petted as much as ever. But when Uncle Zoeth had a cold it was she who insisted upon his wrapping up and saw that the wraps were ready, and if Uncle Shad was caught wearing socks with holes in them he was scolded and supplied with fresh ones. She selected the clothes they should wear and insisted that they black their boots on Sunday. She helped them in the store and it became occasionally possible for them to leave that place of business at the same time without engaging the services of Annabel. At first the partners, Captain Shadrach especially, protested against the supervision and the innovations, but Mary-'Gusta tactfully and diplomatically carried each point, and, after a time, the Captain ceased to protest and accepted the inevitable almost with meekness.

"No use, Zoeth," he said on one occasion; "I've talked and talked but I'm wearin' the necktie just the same. I told her 'twas too good to wear weekdays and it ought to be saved for Sunday, but it ain't Sunday and I'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. So here 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, a man that's handled as many fo'mast hands as I have, should come to be led around by the nose by a slip of a girl! By fire, I--I can't hardly believe it. It's disgraceful."

Zoeth smiled. "Oh, be still, Shadrach," he said. "You bear up under the disgrace as well as anybody ever I saw. You know perfectly well you was tickled 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 grin from 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 Bea.r.s.e's wife, that can crochet any better'n that girl of ours."

Shadrach snorted. "What are you talkin' about?" he demanded. "Etta Bea.r.s.e never saw the day she could crochet like that. No, nor do anything else so well, either. Look at the way our candy trade has picked up since Mary-'Gusta fixed up the showcase. You cal'lated 'twas all right the way 'twas afore and thought 'twas foolish to change, but she 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 few things 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 store for us."

"She did, eh? She's jealous, that's what ails her. And to think of HER sayin' it. That Annabel's all bra.s.s, like a s.h.i.+p's spygla.s.s. By the jumpin' 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 know you. You talk about disgrace and such, but you're as crazy about Mary-'Gusta as--as--"

"As you are, eh? Well, maybe I am, Zoeth. When she was first willed to us, 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--took away 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 she graduated from the grammar school and in the fall was to enter the high school. She was popular among her mates, although she never sought popularity.

At picnics and church sociables she had always a small circle about her and the South Harniss boys were prominent in that circle. But Mary-'Gusta, although she liked boys and girls well enough, never showed a liking for one more than the other and she was too busy at the house and in the store to have her young friends hanging about. They bothered her, she said. As for having a particular friend of the other s.e.x, which some of the girls in her cla.s.s no older than she seemed to think a necessary proof of being in their teens, she laughed at the idea. She had her adopted uncles and Isaiah to take care of and boy beaux were silly. Talking about them as these girls did was sillier still.

That summer--the summer preceding Mary-'Gusta's fifteenth birthday--was the liveliest South Harniss had known. The village was beginning to feel the first symptoms of its later boom as a summer resort. A number of cottages 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 new stores, but Hamilton and Company were inclined to believe this merely talk and did not worry about it. Their trade was unusually brisk and the demand for Mary-'Gusta's services as salesgirl interfered considerably with her duties as a.s.sistant housekeeper.

One fine, clear July morning she came up to the store early in order that the partners might go down to the house for breakfast. They had gone and she had just finished placing on the counters and in other likely spots about the store sheets of sticky fly paper. Flies are a nuisance in South Harniss in midsummer and Captain Shad detested them.

Just as the last sheet was laid in place, a young fellow and a girl came in. Mary-'Gusta recognized them both. The girl was the seventeen-year-old daughter of a wealthy summer resident, a Mr. Keith from Chicago. The Keiths had a fine cottage on the bluff at the other end of the village. The young chap with her was, so gossip reported, a college friend of her brother. His surname was prosaic enough, being Smith, but his first name was Crawford and his home was somewhere in the Far West. He was big and good-looking, and the Boston papers mentioned him as one of the most promising backs on the Harvard Freshman eleven.

Next year, so the sporting writers opined, he would almost certainly make the Varsity team. Most of Mary-'Gusta's feminine friends and acquaintances rated him "perfectly splendid" and regarded Edna Keith with envious eyes.

This morning both he and the Keith girl were arrayed in the gayest of summer regalia. Young Smith's white flannel trousers were carefully creased, his blue serge coat was without a wrinkle, his tie and socks were a perfect match, and his cap was of a style which the youth of South Harniss might be wearing the following summer, but not this one.

Take him "by and large," as Captain Shadrach would have said, Crawford Smith was an immaculate and beautiful exhibit; of which fact he, being eighteen years of age, was doubtless quite aware.

He and the Keith girl were, so Mary-'Gusta learned, a committee of two selected to purchase certain supplies for a beach picnic, a combination clambake and marshmallow toast, which was to take place over at Setuckit Point that day. Sam Keith, Edna's brother, and the other members of the party had gone on to Jabez Hedges' residence, where Jabez had promised to meet them with the clams and other things for the bake. Edna and her escort, having made their purchases at Hamilton and Company's, were to join them at the "clam-man's." Then the whole party was to go down to the wharf and the sailboat.

Miss Edna, who was a talkative damsel, informed Mary-'Gusta of these facts 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's in ten minutes, and, if we're not there, Sam will be awfully cross. He hates to wait for people. And we've been too long already. It's all your fault, Crawford; you would stop to hear that fruit man talk. I told you you 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 oranges furnished Gaius with subject sufficient for a lengthy monologue--"forty drawls and ten stutters to every orange," quoting Captain Shad again.