Mary-'Gusta Part 11

"Ahoy, there, Isaiah!" hailed the Captain. "Here we are."

The man with the ap.r.o.n took a big nickel watch from the upper pocket of his vest, looked at it, and shook his head. Upon his face, which was long and thin like the rest of him, there was a grieved expression.

"A little mite late, ain't we, Isaiah?" said Zoeth, hastily. "Hope we ain't kept supper waitin' too long?"

The tall man returned the watch to the pocket.

"Only twenty-three minutes, that's all," he drawled, with the resignation of a martyr. "Twenty-three minutes ain't much in a lifetime, maybe--but it don't help fried potatoes none. Them potatoes was ready at half-past five."

"Well, 'tain't six yet," protested Captain Shad.

"Maybe 'tain't, but it's twenty-three minutes later'n half-past five.

Last thing you said to me was, 'Have supper ready at half-past five!' I had it ready. Them potatoes went on the fire at--"

"There! there!" interrupted the Captain. "Never mind the potatoes. We'll 'tend to them in a minute. Give us a hand with this dunnage. There's a satchel here and some more stuff. Sooner this craft's unloaded the sooner we can eat. All ash.o.r.e that's goin' ash.o.r.e."

Zoeth climbed out of the buggy. He lifted their pa.s.senger to the ground.

"Mary-'Gusta," he said, "here's where Cap'n Gould and I live. This is Mr. Isaiah Chase. Isaiah, this is Mary Lathrop, Cap'n Marcellus's little girl. She's come to--t--"

"To make us a little visit," put in the Captain, promptly. "You want to get acquainted with Isaiah, Mary-'Gusta; he's cook and steward for me and Mr. Zoeth. That's right; shake hands and be sociable."

Mary-'Gusta extended her hand and Mr. Chase, after wiping his own hand on the ap.r.o.n, pumped hers up and down.

"Pleased to meet you," he said, solemnly.

"Now for the dunnage," said Captain Shad. "There's the satchel and--and the other things. Look out for that basket! LOOK OUT!"

Mr. Chase had seized the basket and swung it out of the buggy. David, frightened at the sudden aerial ascension, uttered a howl. Isaiah dropped the basket as if it was red hot.

"What in tunket!" he exclaimed.

"Nothin' but a cat," explained the Captain. "'Twon't hurt you."

"A cat! What--whose cat?"

"Mine," said Mary-'Gusta, running to the rescue. "He's a real good cat.

He ain't cross; he's scared, that's all. Honest, he ain't cross. Are you, David?"

David howled and clawed at the cover of the basket. Mr. Chase backed away.

"A cat!" he repeated. "You fetched a cat--here?"

"Sartin we fetched it." Captain Shadrach was evidently losing patience.

"Did you think we'd fetch an elephant? Now get out them--them doll babies and things."

Isaiah stared at the dolls. Mary-'Gusta stopped patting the basket and hastened to the side of the buggy. "I'll take the dollies," she said.

"They're mine, too."

A moment later they entered the house. Mary-'Gusta bore three of the dolls. Mr. Hamilton carried the other two, and Isaiah, with the valise in one hand and the basket containing the shrieking David at arm's length in the other, led the way. Captain Shad, after informing them that he would be aboard in a jiffy, drove on to the barn.

The room they first entered was the kitchen. It was small, rather untidy, and smelt strongly of fish and the fried potatoes.

"Come right along with me, Mary-'Gusta," said Zoeth. "Fetch the satchel, Isaiah."

"Hold on," shouted the perturbed "cook and steward." "What--what in the nation will I do with this critter?"

The "critter" was David, who was apparently turning somersaults in the basket.

Zoeth hesitated. Mary-'Gusta settled the question.

"Put him right down, please," she said. "He'll be better soon as he's put down. He's never traveled before and it's kind of strange to him.

He'll be all right and I'll come back and let him out pretty soon.

Mayn't I, Mr.--Mr. Chase?"

"Huh? Yes, yes, you can if you want to, I cal'late. I don't want to, that's sure."

He deposited the basket on the floor at his feet. Mary-'Gusta looked at it rather dubiously and for an instant seemed about to speak, but she did not, and followed Mr. Hamilton from the kitchen, through the adjoining room, evidently the dining-room, and up a narrow flight of stairs.

"I cal'late we'll put her in the spare room, won't we, Isaiah?" queried Zoeth, with some hesitation.

Isaiah grunted. "Guess so," he said, ungraciously, "Ain't no other place that I know of. Bed ain't made, though."

The spare room was of good size, and smelled shut up and musty, as spare rooms in the country usually do. It was furnished with a bureau, washstand, and two chairs, each painted in a robin's egg blue with sprays of yellow roses. There were several pictures on the walls, their subjects religious and mournful. The bed was, as Mr. Chase had said, not made; in fact it looked as if it had not been made for some time.

"I've been cal'latin' to make up that bed for more'n a month," explained Isaiah. "Last time 'twas unmade was when Zoeth had that minister from Trumet here of a Sat.u.r.day and Sunday. Every day I've cal'lated to make up that bed, but I don't seem to get no time. I'm so everlastin' busy I don't get time for nothin', somehow."

"I can make the bed," declared Mary-'Gusta, eagerly. "I can make beds real well. Mrs. Hobbs told me so--once."

The two men looked at each other. Before either could speak a tremendous racket broke out on the floor below, a sound of something--or somebody--tumbling about, a roar in a human voice and a feline screech.

Mary-'Gusta rushed for the stairs.

"I knew he would," she said, frantically. "I was afraid somebody would.

It was RIGHT in front of the door. Oh! David, dear! I'm a-comin'! I'm a-comin'!"

From the kitchen came Captain Shadrach's voice. It sounded excited and angry.

"Who in blazes left that dum critter right under my feet?" he hollered.

"I--I swan, I believe I've broke my neck--or his--one or t'other."

When Zoeth and Isaiah reached the kitchen they found the Captain sitting in a chair, rubbing his knees, and Mary-'Gusta seated on the floor beside the open basket, hugging the frightened and struggling David.

"I--I guess he's all right," panted the child. "I was so afraid he'd be killed. You ain't killed, are you, David?"

David appeared to be remarkably sound and active. He wriggled from his owner's arms and bolted under the stove.

"No; he's all right," said Mary-'Gusta. "Isn't it nice he ain't hurt, Mr.--I mean Cap'n Gould?"

Captain Shad rubbed his knee. "Um--yes," he said, with elaborate sarcasm; "it's lovely. Course I don't mind breakin' both MY legs, but if that cat had been--er--bruised or anything I should have felt bad. Well, Isaiah," he added, tartly, turning to the grinning "steward," "are them fried potatoes of yours real or just in your mind?"