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 grass-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-shell 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 apron, a gingham apron similar to those worn by Mrs. Hobbs when at work in the kitchen.
"Ahoy, there, Isaiah!" hailed the Captain. "Here we are."
The man with the apron took a big nickel watch from the upper pocket of his vest, looked at it, and shook his head. Upon his face, which was long and thin like the rest of him, there was a grieved expression.
"A little mite late, ain't we, Isaiah?" said Zoeth, hastily. "Hope we ain't kept supper waitin' too long?"
The tall man returned the watch to the pocket.
"Only twenty-three minutes, that's all," he drawled, with the resignation of a martyr. "Twenty-three minutes ain't much in a lifetime, maybe--but it don't help fried potatoes none. Them potatoes was ready at half-past five."
"Well, 'tain't six yet," protested Captain Shad.
"Maybe 'tain't, but it's twenty-three minutes later'n half-past five. Last thing you said to me was, 'Have supper ready at half-past five!' I had it ready. Them potatoes went on the fire at--"
"There! there!" interrupted the Captain. "Never mind the potatoes.
We'll 'tend to them in a minute. Give us a hand with this dunnage.
There's a satchel here and some more stuff. Sooner this craft's unloaded the sooner we can eat. All ashore that's goin' ashore."
Zoeth climbed out of the buggy. He lifted their passenger to the ground.
"Mary-'Gusta," he said, "here's where Cap'n Gould and I live. This is Mr. Isaiah Chase. Isaiah, this is Mary Lathrop, Cap'n Marcellus's little girl. She's come to--t--"
"To make us a little visit," put in the Captain, promptly. "You want to get acquainted with Isaiah, Mary-'Gusta; he's cook and steward for me and Mr. Zoeth. That's right; shake hands and be sociable."
Mary-'Gusta extended her hand and Mr. Chase, after wiping his own hand on the apron, pumped hers up and down.
"Pleased to meet you," he said, solemnly.
"Now for the dunnage," said Captain Shad. "There's the satchel and--and the other things. Look out for that basket! LOOK OUT!"
Mr. Chase had seized the basket and swung it out of the buggy.
David, frightened at the sudden aerial ascension, uttered a howl.
Isaiah dropped the basket as if it was red hot.
"What in tunket!" he exclaimed.
"Nothin' but a cat," explained the Captain. "'Twon't hurt you."
"A cat! What--whose cat?"
"Mine," said Mary-'Gusta, running to the rescue. "He's a real good cat. He ain't cross; he's scared, that's all. Honest, he ain't cross. Are you, David?"
David howled and clawed at the cover of the basket. Mr. Chase backed away.
"A cat!" he repeated. "You fetched a cat--here?"
"Sartin we fetched it." Captain Shadrach was evidently losing patience. "Did you think we'd fetch an elephant? Now get out them--them doll babies and things."
Isaiah stared at the dolls. Mary-'Gusta stopped patting the basket and hastened to the side of the buggy. "I'll take the dollies," she said. "They're mine, too."
A moment later they entered the house. Mary-'Gusta bore three of the dolls. Mr. Hamilton carried the other two, and Isaiah, with the valise in one hand and the basket containing the shrieking David at arm's length in the other, led the way. Captain Shad, after informing them that he would be aboard in a jiffy, drove on to the barn.
The room they first entered was the kitchen. It was small, rather untidy, and smelt strongly of fish and the fried potatoes.
"Come right along with me, Mary-'Gusta," said Zoeth. "Fetch the satchel, Isaiah."
"Hold on," shouted the perturbed "cook and steward." "What--what in the nation will I do with this critter?"
The "critter" was David, who was apparently turning somersaults in the basket.
Zoeth hesitated. Mary-'Gusta settled the question.
"Put him right down, please," she said. "He'll be better soon as he's put down. He's never traveled before and it's kind of strange to him. He'll be all right and I'll come back and let him out pretty soon. Mayn't I, Mr.--Mr. Chase?"
"Huh? Yes, yes, you can if you want to, I cal'late. I don't want to, that's sure."
He deposited the basket on the floor at his feet. Mary'-Gusta looked at it rather dubiously and for an instant seemed about to speak, but she did not, and followed Mr. Hamilton from the kitchen, through the adjoining room, evidently the dining-room, and up a narrow flight of stairs.
"I cal'late we'll put her in the spare room, won't we, Isaiah?" queried Zoeth, with some hesitation.
Isaiah grunted. "Guess so," he said, ungraciously, "Ain't no other place that I know of. Bed ain't made, though."
The spare room was of good size, and smelled shut up and musty, as spare rooms in the country usually do. It was furnished with a bureau, washstand, and two chairs, each painted in a robin's egg blue with sprays of yellow roses. There were several pictures on the walls, their subjects religious and mournful. The bed was, as Mr. Chase had said, not made; in fact it looked as if it had not been made for some time.
