CHAPTER V

Mary-'Gusta awoke next morning to find the sun shining in at the window
of her bedroom. She had no means of knowing the time, but she was
certain it must be very late and, in consequence, was almost dressed
when Isaiah knocked at the door to tell her breakfast would be ready
pretty soon. A few minutes later she appeared in the kitchen bearing the
pitcher from the washstand in her room.

"What you doin' with that?" demanded Mr. Chase, who was leaning against
the door-post looking out into the yard.

"I was goin' to fill it," said the child. "There wasn't any water to
wash with."

Isaiah sniffed. "I ain't had no time to fill wash pitchers," he
declared. "That one's been on my mind for more'n a fortni't but I've
had other things to do. You can wash yourself in that basin in the sink.
That's what the rest of us do."

Mary-'Gusta obediently washed in the tin basin and rubbed her face and
hands dry upon the roller towel behind the closet door.

"Am I late for breakfast?" she asked, anxiously.

"No, I guess not. Ain't had breakfast yet. Cap'n Shad's out to the barn
'tendin' to the horse and Zoeth's feedin' the hens. They'll be in
pretty soon, if we have luck. Course it's TIME for breakfast, but that's
nothing. I'm the only one that has to think about time in this house."

The girl regarded him thoughtfully.

"You have to work awful hard, don't you, Mr. Chase?" she said.

Isaiah looked at her suspiciously.

"Huh?" he grunted. "Who told you that?"

"Nobody. I just guessed it from what you said."

"Humph! Well, you guessed right. I don't have many spare minutes."

"Yes, sir. Are you a perfect slave?"

"Eh? What?"

"Mrs. Hobbs says she is a perfect slave when she has to work hard."

"Who's Mrs. Hobbs?"

"She's--she keeps house--that is, she used to keep house for my father
over in Ostable. I don't suppose she will any more now he's dead. She'll
be glad, I guess. Perhaps she won't have to be a perfect slave now.
She used to wear aprons same as you do. I never saw a man wear an apron
before. Do you have to wear one?"

"Hey? Have to? No, course I don't have to unless I want to."

Mary-'Gusta reflected.

"I suppose," she went on, after a moment, "it saves your pants. You'd
get 'em all spotted up if you didn't wear the apron. Pneumonia is a good
thing to take out Spots."

Isaiah was surprised.

"What is?" he asked.

"Pneumonia. . . . No, I don't think that's right. It's pneumonia that
ma