"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 sh.o.r.e 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 cl.u.s.tered 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 sh.o.r.e, 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. n.o.body 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 sh.o.r.e."

The old horse p.r.i.c.ked 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.

"h.e.l.lo, 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.

"h.e.l.lo!" 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 pa.s.sel 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 gra.s.s-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-sh.e.l.l 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 ap.r.o.n, a gingham ap.r.o.n similar to those worn by Mrs. Hobbs when at work in the kitchen.