le I went up and dressed my dolls?"

Isaiah turned to stare at her.

"Well," he stammered, "I--I cal'late maybe I could if I tried hard.
If you don't beat anything ever I see! What are you doin' with that
pitcher?"

The girl was holding the wash pitcher under the pump.

"I'm fillin' it," she answered. "Then you won't have to have it on your
mind any more. I'll hurry back just as fast as I can."

She hastened out, bearing the brimming pitcher with both hands. Isaiah
gazed after her, muttering a word or two, and then set about clearing
the breakfast table.

She was down again shortly, the two favorites, Rose and Rosette, in her
arms. She placed them carefully in the kitchen chair and bade them be
nice girls and watch mother do the dishes.

"I left the others in the bedroom," she explained. "Minnehaha ain't very
well this mornin'. I guess the excitement was too much for her. She is a
very nervous child."

Isaiah's evident amusement caused her to make one of her odd changes
from childish make-believe to grown-up practicability.

"Of course," she added, with gravity, "I know she ain't really nervous.
She's just full of sawdust, same as all dolls are, and she couldn't have
any nerves. But I like to play she's nervous and delicate. It's real
handy to say that when I don't want to take her with me. I'm a nervous,
excitable child myself; Mrs. Hobbs says so. That's why I've hardly ever
been anywhere before, I guess."

She insisted upon wiping the dishes while Isaiah washed them. Also, she
reminded him that the tablecloth which had been so severely criticized
the previous evening had not as yet been changed. The steward was
inclined to treat the matter lightly.

"Never mind if 'tain't," he said. "It's good enough for a spell longer.
Let it stay. Besides," he added, "the washin' ain't been done this week
and there ain't another clean one aboard."

Mary-'Gusta smiled cheerfully.

"Oh, yes, there is," she said. "There's a real nice one in the bottom
drawer of the closet. I've been huntin' and I found it. Come and see."

She led him into the dining-room and showed him the cloth she had found.

"It's a real pretty one, I think," she said. "Shall we put it on, Mr.
Chase?"

"No, no, course not. That's the best tablecloth. Don't use that only
when there's company--or Sundays."

Mary-'Gusta considered. She counted on her fingers.

"How long have we used this dirty one?" she asked.

"Eh? Oh, I don't know. Four or fiv