Mr. Keith and the Captain had that later talk--several talks, in fact--and a week after their first one Captain Shadrach suddenly announced that he was cal'latin' to run up to Boston just for a day on business and that Mary-'Gusta had better go along with him for company. Zoeth could tend store and get along all right until they returned. The girl was not so certain of the getting along all right, but Mr. Hamilton as well as the Captain insisted, so she consented at last. The Boston trip was not exactly a novelty to her--she had visited the city a number of times during the past few years--but a holiday with Uncle Shad was always good fun.
They took the early morning train and reached Boston about ten o'clock. Shadrach's business in the city seemed to be of a rather vague nature this time. They called at the offices of two or three of his old friends--ship-chandlers and marine outfitters on Commercial Street and Atlantic Avenue--and then the Captain, looking at his watch, announced that it was pretty nigh noontime and he cal'lated they had better be cruisin' up towards Pinckney Street.
"Got an errand up in that latitude," he added.
Pinckney Street was on the hill in the rear of the Common and the State House and was narrow and crooked and old-fashioned.
"What in the world are we doing up here?" queried Mary-'Gusta.
"There aren't any wholesale houses here, I'm sure. Haven't you made a mistake, Uncle Shad?" Shadrach, who had been consulting a page of his pocket memorandum book, replied that he cal'lated he'd got his bearin's, and, to the girl's astonishment, stopped before a brick dwelling with a colonial doorway and a white stone step which actually shone from scrubbing, and rang the bell.
The maid who answered the bell wore a white apron which crackled with starch. She looked as if she too had, like the step, been scrubbed a few minutes before.
"This is No.--, ain't it?" inquired the Captain. "Humph! I thought so. I ain't so much of a wreck yet but that I can navigate Boston without a pilot. Is Mr. Keith in?"
The maid, who had received the pilot statement with uncomprehending astonishment, looked relieved.
"Yes, sir," she said. "Mr. Keith's here. Are you the ones he's expectin'? Walk in, please."
They entered the house. It was as spotlessly tidy within as without. The maid ushered them into a parlor where old mahogany and old family portraits in oil were very much in evidence.
"Sit down, please," she said. "I'll tell Mr. Keith you're here."
She left the room. Mary-'Gusta turned to the Captain in amazed agitation.
"Uncle Shad," she demanded, "why on earth did you come HERE to see Mr. Keith? Couldn't you have seen him at South Harniss?"
Shadrach shook his head. "Not today I couldn't," he said. "He's up here today."
"But what do you want to see him for?"
"Business, business, Mary-'Gusta. Mr. Keith and me are tryin' to do a little stroke of business together. We've got a hen on, as the feller said. Say, this is kind of a swell house, ain't it? And clean--my soul! Judas! did I move this chair out of place? I didn't mean to. Looks as if it had set right in that one spot for a hundred years."
Keith entered at that moment, followed by an elderly lady whose gown was almost as old-fashioned as the furniture. She was a rather thin person but her face, although sharp, was not unkind in expression and her plainly arranged hair was white. Mary-'Gusta liked her looks; she guessed that she might be very nice indeed to people she knew and fancied; also that she would make certain of knowing them first.
"Hello, Captain Gould," hailed Keith. "Glad to see you. Found the place all right, I see."
"Yes--yes, I found it, Mr. Keith."
"I thought you wouldn't have any difficulty. Mary, how do you do?"
Mary-'Gusta and Mr. Keith shook hands.
"Captain," said Keith, "I want to introduce you to my cousin, Mrs.
Wyeth."
Mrs. Wyeth bowed with dignity.
"How do you do, Captain Gould," she said.
"Why--why, I'm pretty smart, thank you, ma'am," stammered Shadrach, rather embarrassed at all this ceremony. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am."
"And this young lady," went on Keith, "is Miss Mary Lathrop. Miss Lathrop, this lady is Mrs. Wyeth, my cousin."
Mary-'Gusta, with the uneasy feeling that Mrs. Wyeth's gaze had been fixed upon her since she entered the room, bowed but said nothing.
"And now," said Mr. Keith, heartily, "we'll have luncheon. You're just in time and Mrs. Wyeth has been expecting you."
The Captain's embarrassment reached its height at this invitation.
"No, no," he stammered, "we--we can't do that. Couldn't think of it, you know. We--we ain't a mite hungry. Had breakfast afore we left home, didn't we, Mary-'Gusta?"
Keith laughed. "Yes, I know," he said; "and you left home about half-past five. I've taken that early train myself. If you're not hungry you ought to be and luncheon is ready. Emily--Mrs. Wyeth--has been expecting you. She will be disappointed if you refuse."
Mrs. Wyeth herself put in a word here. "Of course they won't refuse, John," she said with decision. "They must be famished.
Refuse! The idea! Captain Gould, Mr. Keith will look out for you; your niece will come with me. Luncheon will be ready in five minutes. Come, Mary. That's your name--Mary--isn't it? I'm glad to hear it. It's plain and it's sensible and I like it. The employment bureau sent me a maid a week ago and when she told me her name I sent her back again. It was Florina. That was enough.
Mercy! All I could think of was a breakfast food. Come, Mary.
Now, John, do be prompt."
