“What are those, Uncle Shad?” asked Mary. Mr. Clifford answered.
“Oh, I thought I might as well buy a little sugar and flour and such,” he said. “Always come in handy, they do. Send 'em up when you get to it. Good-by.”
His hand was on the door, but Mary called to him.
“Mr. Clifford,” she called; “just a minute, please. Are you in any hurry for these things—the sugar and the rest of it?”
“No, don't know's I be, 'special'; why?”
“Oh, nothing, except that if you were in a hurry I should advise your paying for them. I told you, you remember, that we weren't taking chances.”
For an instant Jeremiah stood there glowering. Then he did another astonishing thing. He took out the pocketbook once more and from it extracted a two-dollar bill.
“Take it out of that,” he said, “and send me a receipted bill afterwards. I always cal'late to know what I've paid for. And say, you—what's your name—Mary-'Gusta, if you get tired of workin' for Shad Gould and Zoeth Hamilton, come round and see me. I've got—I mean my wife's got—two or three mortgages that's behind on the interest. I ain't been able to collect it for her yet, but—but, by time, I believe YOU could!”
He went out and the next moment Mary was almost smothered in her uncle's embrace.
“After this—after THIS,” roared Shadrach, “I'll believe anything's possible if you've got a hand in it, Mary-'Gusta. If YOU'D been Jonah you'd have put the whale in your pocket and swum ashore.”