Zoeth rubbed his chin. He did not speak and his silence seemed to irritate his partner.
“Well, do we?” repeated the latter, sharply.
Zoeth sighed. “No, Shadrach,” he admitted. “I guess likely we don't, but—”
“But what?”
“Well, we've got to realize that those kind of notions come—come sort of natural to young folks Mary-'Gusta's age.”
“Rubbish! I don't believe that girl's got a single one of 'em in her mind.”
“Maybe not, but they'll be there some day. Ah, well,” he added, “we mustn't be selfish, you and me, Shadrach. It'll be dreadful hard to give her up to somebody else, but if that somebody is a good man, kind and straight and honest, why, I for one will try not to complain. But, Oh, Shadrach! Suppose he should turn out to be the other thing. Suppose SHE makes the mistake that I—”
His friend interrupted.
“Shh! shh!” he broke in, quickly. “Don't talk so, Zoeth. Come on to bed,” he added, rising from his chair. “This very evenin' I was callin' Isaiah names for talkin' about 'fellers' and such, and here you and I have been sittin' talkin' nothin' else. If you hear me say 'fool' in my sleep tonight just understand I'm talkin' to myself, that's all. Come on aloft, Zoeth, and turn in.”
The following morning Mary astonished her uncles by announcing that as soon as she had helped Isaiah with the breakfast dishes and the bed making she was going up to the store.