Shadrach turned and looked at him.
“Well,” he demanded, “what's the matter? What are you starin' like that for?”
“Them—them pictures,” gasped Mr. Chase.
“Well, what about 'em? Where did Mary-'Gusta get 'em, do you know? Did—Here! Where are you goin'?”
“I—I ain't goin' anywheres. I'm a-goin' downstairs. I got my dishwashin' to do. I—let go of me, Cap'n Shad! I got to go this minute, I tell you.”
But the Captain did not let go of him. Instead, keeping a firm hold upon the collar of the frightened cook and steward, he twisted him around until he could look him straight in the eye. This was difficult, for Isaiah plainly did not wish to be looked at in that manner.
“Humph!” grunted Captain Shad, after a moment's inspection. “Humph! I cal'late I've got the right pig by the ear this time. Set down in that chair, Isaiah Chase; I want to talk to you.”
CHAPTER XXIX
The northeaster was developing. It was now raining hard and the wind was rising. The gusts swept across the top of the little hill and the window sashes of the For'ard Lookout rattled and the hinges of the ancient blinds squeaked. The yard, which had been so attractive, was shorn of its decorations. The tables had been carried inside; the lanterns taken down; the wonderful sign, pride of the talented Mr. Bemis, had been tenderly conveyed to the attic. Cook, waitresses and salesgirl had departed. The tea-room and gift shop had gone into winter quarters to hibernate until the following spring.