Zoeth hesitated. Shadrach's answer was emphatic.
“Course not,” he snapped. “What do Zoeth and me know about managin' a child? Keep her for good, the idea!”
Isaiah chuckled. “'Cordin' to my notion,” he said, “you wouldn't have to know much. You wouldn't have to manage her. If she wasn't managin' you—yes, and me, too—inside of a month, I'd miss my guess. She's a born manager. You ought to see her handle them dolls and that cat.”
When the two partners of Hamilton and Company went upstairs to their own bedrooms they opened the door of the spare room and peeped in. Mary-'Gusta's head and those of the dolls were in a row upon the pillow. It was a strange sight in that room and that house.
“I declare!” whispered Zoeth. “And this mornin' we never dreamed of such a thing. How long this day has been!”
“Judgin' by the state of my nerves and knees it's been two year,” replied Shadrach. “I've aged that much, I swan to man. Humph! I wonder if Marcellus knows what's happened.”
His tone was not loud, but it or the lamplight in her face awakened Mary-'Gusta. She stirred, opened her eyes and regarded them sleepily.
“Is it mornin'?” she asked.
“No, no,” replied Zoeth. “It's only ten o'clock. Captain Shadrach and I was goin' to bed and we looked in to see if you was all right, that's all. You must go right to sleep again, dearie.”
“Yes, sir,” said Mary-'Gusta, obediently. Then she added, “I said my prayers to myself but I'll say 'em to you if you want me to.”