"I've been cal'latin' to make up that bed for more'n a month," explained Isaiah. "Last time 'twas unmade was when Zoeth had that minister from Trumet here of a Saturday and Sunday. Every day I've cal'lated to make up that bed, but I don't seem to get no time. I'm so everlastin' busy I don't get time for nothin', somehow."
"I can make the bed," declared Mary-'Gusta, eagerly. "I can make beds real well. Mrs. Hobbs told me so--once."
The two men looked at each other. Before either could speak a tremendous racket broke out on the floor below, a sound of something--or somebody--tumbling about, a roar in a human voice and a feline screech. Mary-'Gusta rushed for the stairs.
"I knew he would," she said, frantically. "I was afraid somebody would. It was RIGHT in front of the door. Oh! David, dear! I'm a-comin'! I'm a-comin'!"
From the kitchen came Captain Shadrach's voice. It sounded excited and angry.
"Who in blazes left that dum critter right under my feet?" he hollered. "I--I swan, I believe I've broke my neck--or his--one or t'other."
When Zoeth and Isaiah reached the kitchen they found the Captain sitting in a chair, rubbing his knees, and Mary-'Gusta seated on the floor beside the open basket, hugging the frightened and struggling David.
"I--I guess he's all right," panted the child. "I was so afraid he'd be killed. You ain't killed, are you, David?"
David appeared to be remarkably sound and active. He wriggled from his owner's arms and bolted under the stove.
"No; he's all right," said Mary-'Gusta. "Isn't it nice he ain't hurt, Mr.--I mean Cap'n Gould?"
Captain Shad rubbed his knee. "Um--yes," he said, with elaborate sarca**; "it's lovely. Course I don't mind breakin' both MY legs, but if that cat had been--er--bruised or anything I should have felt bad. Well, Isaiah," he added, tartly, turning to the grinning "steward," "are them fried potatoes of yours real or just in your mind?"
"Eh? Why--why they're right there on the stove, Cap'n Shad."
"Want to know! Then suppose you put 'em on the table. I'm hungry and I'd like to eat one more square meal afore somethin' else happens to finish me altogether. By fire! if this ain't been a day!
First that chair, and then that will and letter of Marcellus's, and then this. Humph! Come on, all hands, let's eat supper. I need somethin' solid to brace me up for tomorrow's program; if it's up to this, I'll need strength to last it through. Come on!"
That first supper in the white house by the shore was an experience for Mary-'Gusta. Mrs. Hobbs, in spite of her faultfinding and temper, had been a competent and careful housekeeper. Meals which she prepared were well cooked and neatly served. This meal was distinctly different. There was enough to eat--in fact, an abundance--fried cod and the fried potatoes and hot biscuits and dried-apple pie; but everything was put upon the table at the same time, and Mr. Chase sat down with the others and did not even trouble to take off his apron. The tablecloth was not very clean and the knives and forks and spoons did not glitter like those the child had been accustomed to see.
Even Mr. Hamilton, to whom most of the things of this world--his beloved store excepted--seemed to be unessential trivialities, spoke of the table linen.
"Seems to me," he observed, in his gentle and hesitating way, "this tablecloth's sort of spotted up. Don't you think so, Shadrach?"
Captain Shad's reply was emphatic and to the point.
"Looks as if 'twas breakin' out with chicken-pox," he replied.
"Ain't we got a clean one in the locker, Isaiah?"
Mr. Chase's face assumed an aggrieved expression.
"Course we have," he answered, "but I didn't know you was goin' to have company."
"Neither did we. But we could stand a clean table-cloth, even at that."
"I've got somethin' to do besides changin' tablecloths every day."
"Every day! Every Thanksgivin' Day, you mean. This one--"
"Now, look-a-here, Cap'n Shad; you know well as I do that Sarah J. never come to do the washin' last week. She was down with the grip and couldn't move. If you expect me to do washin' as well as cook and sweep and keep house and--and shovel snow, and--"
"Shovel snow! What kind of talk's that? There ain't been any snow since February."
"Don't make no difference. When there was I shoveled it, didn't I?
It ain't no use; I try and try, but I can't give satisfaction and I might's well quit. I don't have to stay here and slave myself to death. I can get another job. There's folks in this town that's just dyin' to have me work for em."
Captain Shadrach muttered something to the effect that if Isaiah did work for them they might die sooner. Mr. Chase rose from his seat.
"All right," he said, with dignity. "All right, this settles it.
I'm through. After all the years I sailed cook along with you, Shad Gould, and after you beggin' me--yes, sir, beggin' on your knees, as you might say, for me to run this house for you long as you lived--after that, to--to-- Good-by. I'll try not to lay it up against you."
He was moving--not hastily, but actually moving--toward the kitchen door. Zoeth, who was evidently much disturbed, rose and laid a hand on his arm.
"There, there, Isaiah," he pleaded. "Don't act so. We ain't findin' any fault. Shadrach wasn't findin' fault, was you, Shadrach?"
"No, no, course I wasn't. Don't talk so foolish, Isaiah. Nobody wants you to quit. All I said was-- Come back here and set down.
Your tea's gettin' all cold."
To Mary-'Gusta it seemed as if the tea had been at least cool to begin with. However, Mr. Chase suffered himself to be led back to the table and attacked his supper in injured silence. Mary-'Gusta offered a suggestion.
"I guess I could wash a tablecloth," she said. "I always wash my dolls' things."
Her three companions were plainly surprised. The Captain was the first to speak.
"You don't say!" he exclaimed.
"Yes, sir, I do. And," with a glance at the silver, "I can scour knives and forks and spoons, too. I used to help Mrs. Hobbs scour 'em sometimes."
