"I know what he did, Shadrach; you don't need to tell me. But he's dead, and his boy is a good boy--you liked him and so did I. And Shadrach, I've been thinkin' an awful lot about this since I got the letter and have been well enough to think. And I've made up my mind to just this: There has been sorrow and trouble enough brought on already by that wickedness. There shan't be any more. What wrecked all our lives thirty-five years ago shan't wreck these two, if I can help it. If Mary-'Gusta cares for him and he for her they must have each other and be happy. And you and I will be happy watchin' their happiness."
He paused and then added:
"So I wish, Shadrach, there was some way of findin' out for sure that she sent him away because she didn't care for him and not for any other reason."
Shadrach rose from his chair and laid his hand on his friend's shoulder. He cleared his throat once or twice before speaking and there was still a shake in his voice as he said:
"Zoeth, you're a better man than I ever hope to be. I declare you make me ashamed of myself."
Neither of them ate much dinner, although Isaiah had prepared a cranberry pie, made from the first fruit of the fall season, and was correspondingly disappointed when both of his employers left it untouched.
"Ain't a mite of use my slavin' myself to death cookin' fancy vittles for this crew," he grumbled. "I stood over that cookstove this mornin' until I got so everlastin' hot that every time the cold air blowed onto me I steamed. And yet I can't satisfy."
"Oh, yes, you can," observed Captain Shad, rising from the table.
"You satisfied us too quick, that was the trouble. We was satisfied afore we got to the pie."
"Umph! I want to know! Well, Mary-'Gusta was satisfied afore that.
She didn't eat hardly anything. Said she wan't hungry. I swan if it ain't discouragin'! What's the use of you folks havin' a cook?
If you're goin' to have canary-bird appetites, why don't you feed on bird seed and be done with it? And I do believe I never made a better pie than that!"
"Where's Mary-'Gusta?" asked Zoeth.
"I don't know. She went up to her room. She may be there yet, or she may have come down and gone out again--I don't know. If she did come down I didn't see her."
Shadrach looked out of the window. It had been a dark, gloomy morning and now it was beginning to rain. The wind was whining through the tops of the silver-leafs and the moan of the breakers on the bar sounded with a clearness which denoted the approach of a northeaster.
"Dirty weather," observed the Captain. "And it'll be dirtier yet before night. You better stay here in snug harbor this afternoon, Zoeth. Simmie and the boy and Mary-'Gusta and I can tend store all right. Yes, yes, you stay right here and keep dry. Hope Mary-
'Gusta took an umbrella when she went."
"I don't know as she has gone," said Isaiah. "She may be upstairs in her room yet. That's where she was."
Shadrach, after calling "Mary-'Gusta" several times at the foot of the stairs, went up to make sure. The door of Mary's room was closed but, as he received no answer to his knock, he opened it and entered. Mary was not there, although it was evident that she had been there very recently.
Apparently she had been writing a letter, for her writing case was spread out upon the table. Also the drawer in which she kept it had been left open, an unusual act of carelessness on her part, for, generally speaking, as her Uncle Shad said, "Nothin's ever out of place in Mary-'Gusta's room except some of the places, and that's the carpenter's fault, not hers."
The Captain stepped over to close the drawer. As he did so his attention was attracted by a photograph lying upon a pile of photographs in a box inside the drawer. He picked up the photograph and looked at it. It was that of Edwin Smith, taken when he seemed to be recovering from his illness, the one which showed him without a beard.
Shadrach's eyes opened wide as he looked at the photograph. He uttered an exclamation, stepped to the door of the upper hall and called, "Zoeth!" Then he returned to the table and took from the drawer the next photograph upon the pile in the box. It was the old, faded picture of the partners of Hall and Company.
Isaiah came stumbling up the stairs.
"Anythin' I can do for you, Cap'n Shad?" he asked. "Zoeth, he's gone out to shut up the barn door. Rain was liable to beat in, he said. I told him I'd do it, but-- Godfreys mighty!"
The Captain had paid no attention to him and he had entered the room and approached his employer from behind. Now over the latter's shoulder he saw the two photographs.
"Godfreys mighty!" cried the startled Isaiah.
Shadrach turned and looked at him.
"Well," he demanded, "what's the matter? What are you starin' like that for?"
"Them--them pictures," gasped Mr. Chase.
"Well, what about 'em? Where did Mary-'Gusta get 'em, do you know?
Did-- Here! Where are you goin'?"
"I--I ain't goin' anywheres. I'm a-goin' downstairs. I got my dishwashin' to do. I--let go of me, Cap'n Shad! I got to go this minute, I tell you."
But the Captain did not let go of him. Instead, keeping a firm hold upon the collar of the frightened cook and steward, he twisted him around until he could look him straight in the eye. This was difficult, for Isaiah plainly did not wish to be looked at in that manner.
"Humph!" grunted Captain Shad, after a moment's inspection. "Humph!
I cal'late I've got the right pig by the ear this time. Set down in that chair, Isaiah Chase; I want to talk to you."
