, whatever it
might be, had been transacted when her uncle and Mr. Keith took their
short walk together after luncheon. Captain Shadrach seemed to consider
his Boston errand done and the pair spent half of the hour before train
time wandering along Tremont and Washington Streets looking into shop
windows, and the other half in the waiting room of the South Station.

Great and growing as was her curiosity, the girl asked no more
questions. She was determined not to ask them. And the Captain, neither
while in the city nor during the homeward journey, referred to the "hen"
in which he and his friend from Chicago were mutually interested. It
was not until nine o'clock that evening, when supper was over and Zoeth,
having locked up the store, was with them in the sitting-room, that the
hitherto secretive fowl came off the nest.

Then Shadrach, having given his partner a look and received one in
return, cleared his throat and spoke.

"Mary-'Gusta," he said, "me and your Uncle Zoeth have got some news for
you. I cal'late you've been wonderin' a little mite what that business
of Mr. Keith's and mine was, ain't you?"

Mary-'Gusta smiled. "I have wondered--just a little," she observed, with
mild sarcasm.

"Yes--yes, I ain't surprised. Well, the business is done and it's
settled, and it's about you."

"About me? Why, Uncle Shad! How can it be about me?"

"'Cause it can and it is, that's why. Mary-'Gusta, me and Zoeth have
been thinkin' about you a good deal lately and we've come to the
conclusion that we ain't treated you just right."

"Haven't treated me right? YOU?"

"Yes, us. You're a good girl and a smart girl--the smartest and best
girl there is in this town. A girl like that ought to do somethin'
better'n than stay here in South Harniss and keep store. Keepin' store's
all right for old hulks like Zoeth Hamilton and Shad Gould, but you
ain't an old hulk; you're a young craft right off the ways and you ought
to have a chance to cruise in the best water there is."

"Uncle Shad, what are you talking about? Cruise in the best water?"

"That's what I said. You ought to mix with the best folks and get a fine
education and meet somebody besides drummers and--and Sol Higgins's son.
Selling coffins may be a good job, I don't say 'tain't; somebody's got
to do it and we'll all have to invest in that kind of--er--furniture
sometime or 'nother. And Dan Higgins is a good enough boy, too. But he
ain't your kind."

"My kind! Un