Great and growing as was her curiosity, the girl asked no more questions. She was determined not to ask them. And the Captain, neither while in the city nor during the homeward journey, referred to the “hen” in which he and his friend from Chicago were mutually interested. It was not until nine o'clock that evening, when supper was over and Zoeth, having locked up the store, was with them in the sitting-room, that the hitherto secretive fowl came off the nest.
Then Shadrach, having given his partner a look and received one in return, cleared his throat and spoke.
“Mary-'Gusta,” he said, “me and your Uncle Zoeth have got some news for you. I cal'late you've been wonderin' a little mite what that business of Mr. Keith's and mine was, ain't you?”
Mary-'Gusta smiled. “I have wondered—just a little,” she observed, with mild sarcasm.
“Yes—yes, I ain't surprised. Well, the business is done and it's settled, and it's about you.”
“About me? Why, Uncle Shad! How can it be about me?”
“'Cause it can and it is, that's why. Mary-'Gusta, me and Zoeth have been thinkin' about you a good deal lately and we've come to the conclusion that we ain't treated you just right.”
“Haven't treated me right? YOU?”
“Yes, us. You're a good girl and a smart girl—the smartest and best girl there is in this town. A girl like that ought to do somethin' better'n than stay here in South Harniss and keep store. Keepin' store's all right for old hulks like Zoeth Hamilton and Shad Gould, but you ain't an old hulk; you're a young craft right off the ways and you ought to have a chance to cruise in the best water there is.”
“Uncle Shad, what are you talking about? Cruise in the best water?”