Mary-'Gusta Part 35

"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, pus.h.i.+ng 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 s.h.i.+pmates 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.

Rubbis.h.!.+"

"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."

"Rubbis.h.!.+ 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--"

"Finis.h.i.+n' 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 fas.h.i.+onable finis.h.i.+ng 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 finis.h.i.+ng 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 a.s.sent.

"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."