Mr. Hamilton seemed a trifle disappointed. “Was that all?” he asked, with a sigh.
“Yup. No, 'twa'n't neither, come to think of it. Rastus Young's wife, come in with her two young-ones and bought some shoes and hats for 'em.”
“Did she pay cash?” demanded Captain Shadrach sharply.
“No; she said charge 'em up, so I done it. Say, ain't you comin' in pretty soon? It's 'most my supper time.”
Zoeth opened his mouth to answer, but the Captain got ahead of him.
“It's our supper time, too,” he said, crisply. “When we've had it you can have yours. Get dap, January.”
The horse, whose name was Major but who was accustomed to being addressed by almost any name, jogged on. Mr. Hamilton sighed once more.
“I'm 'fraid one of us had ought to stayed in the store, Shadrach,” he said. “Annabel means well, she's real obligin'; but she ain't a good hand at business.”
Shadrach snorted. “Obligin' nothin'!” he retorted. “We're the ones that was obligin' when we agreed to pay her seventy-five cents for settin' astern of the counter and readin' the Advocate. I told you when you hired her that she wasn't good for nothin' but ballast.”
“I know, Shadrach. I'd ought to have stayed to home and kept store myself. But I did feel as if I must go to Marcellus's funeral.”