Captain Shad had no remark to make for a moment. Mary-'Gusta, however, was anxious to please.
“They're nice smells,” she hastened to add. “I like 'em; only I never smelled 'em all at the same time before. And I like the lozengers VERY much.”
The two or three days which Captain Shad had set as the limit of the child's visit passed; as did the next two or three. She was busy and, apparently, enjoying herself. She helped Isaiah with the housework, and although he found the help not altogether unwelcome, he was inclined to grumble a little at what he called her “pesterin' around.”
“I never see such a young-one,” he told his employers. “I don't ask her to do dishes nor fill pitchers nor nothin'; she just does it on her own hook.”
“Humph!” grunted Captain Shadrach. “So I judged from what I see. Does it pretty well, too, don't she?”
“Um-hm. Well enough, I guess. Yes,” with a burst of candor, “for her age, she does it mighty well.”
“Then what are you kickin' about?”
“I ain't kickin'. Who said I was kickin'? Only—well, all I say is let her do dishes and such, if she wants to, only—only—”
“Only what?”
“Only I ain't goin' to have her heavin' out hints about what I ought to do. There's two skippers aboard this craft now and that's enough. By time!” with another burst, “that kid's a reg'lar born mother. She mothers that cat and them dolls and the hens already, and I swan to man I believe she'd like to adopt me. I ain't goin' to be mothered and hinted at to do this and that and put to bed and tucked in by no kid. I'll heave up my job first.”