The summers and winters came and went and Mary-'Gusta's birthdays came and went with them. She grew taller and more mature. Her place as assistant housekeeper was recognized now and even Isaiah consulted her on matters of household management. As for her uncles, she managed them whether consulted or not. They took the place of the discarded dolls; she was too old for dolls now, although David was still mothered and petted as much as ever. But when Uncle Zoeth had a cold it was she who insisted upon his wrapping up and saw that the wraps were ready, and if Uncle Shad was caught wearing socks with holes in them he was scolded and supplied with fresh ones. She selected the clothes they should wear and insisted that they black their boots on Sunday. She helped them in the store and it became occasionally possible for them to leave that place of business at the same time without engaging the services of Annabel. At first the partners, Captain Shadrach especially, protested against the supervision and the innovations, but Mary-
'Gusta tactfully and diplomatically carried each point, and, after a time, the Captain ceased to protest and accepted the inevitable almost with meekness.
"No use, Zoeth," he said on one occasion; "I've talked and talked but I'm wearin' the necktie just the same. I told her 'twas too good to wear weekdays and it ought to be saved for Sunday, but it ain't Sunday and I've got it on. She said 'twas becomin' and the one I've been wearin' wasn't and that she crocheted it for me and I don't know what all. So here I am. Got so I ain't even boss of my own neck."
"Well, 'tis becomin'," observed Zoeth. "And she did crochet it for you. I noticed you didn't stop her tyin' it on you even while you was vowin' you wouldn't wear it."
Shadrach sighed. "To think," he groaned, "that I, Cap'n Shad Gould, a man that's handled as many fo'mast hands as I have, should come to be led around by the nose by a slip of a girl! By fire, I--I can't hardly believe it. It's disgraceful."
Zoeth smiled. "Oh, be still, Shadrach," he said. "You bear up under the disgrace as well as anybody ever I saw. You know perfectly well you was tickled to death to have her tie that necktie on you. You was grinnin' like a Chessy cat all the time."
"I wasn't, neither. I was chokin', not grinnin'. You don't know a grin from a choke."
Zoeth changed the subject. "It's a mighty pretty necktie," he declared. "There ain't anybody in this town, unless it's Philander Bearse's wife, that can crochet any better'n that girl of ours."
Shadrach snorted. "What are you talkin' about?" he demanded. "Etta Bearse never saw the day she could crochet like that. No, nor do anything else so well, either. Look at the way our candy trade has picked up since Mary-'Gusta fixed up the showcase. You cal'lated 'twas all right the way 'twas afore and thought 'twas foolish to change, but she changed it and--well, we've sold a third again as much candy."
Zoeth's smile broadened. "Seems as if I remember your sayin' a few things about that showcase," he remarked. "You gave me fits for lettin' her fuss with it. Annabel was in t'other day and she said folks thought 'twas queer enough our lettin' a thirteen-year-old child run our store for us."
"She did, eh? She's jealous, that's what ails her. And to think of HER sayin' it. That Annabel's all brass, like a ship's spyglass.
By the jumpin' Judas! I'm proud of that showcase and I'm proud of Mary-'Gusta. She don't make many mistakes: I can't remember of her makin' any."
"Neither can I, not even in neckties. There, there, Shadrach! I know you. You talk about disgrace and such, but you're as crazy about Mary-'Gusta as--as--"
"As you are, eh? Well, maybe I am, Zoeth. When she was first willed to us, as you might say, I used to wonder how we'd ever get along with her; now I wonder how we got along without her. If she should be--er--took away from us, I don't know--"
"Sshh, shh, Shadrach! Don't talk about anything like that."
Mary-'Gusta was making good progress at school. At fourteen she graduated from the grammar school and in the fall was to enter the high school. She was popular among her mates, although she never sought popularity.
At picnics and church sociables she had always a small circle about her and the South Harniss boys were prominent in that circle. But Mary-'Gusta, although she liked boys and girls well enough, never showed a liking for one more than the other and she was too busy at the house and in the store to have her young friends hanging about.
They bothered her, she said. As for having a particular friend of the other sex, which some of the girls in her class no older than she seemed to think a necessary proof of being in their teens, she laughed at the idea. She had her adopted uncles and Isaiah to take care of and boy beaux were silly. Talking about them as these girls did was sillier still.
That summer--the summer preceding Mary-'Gusta's fifteenth birthday--was the liveliest South Harniss had known. The village was beginning to feel the first symptoms of its later boom as a summer resort. A number of cottages had been built for people from Boston and New York and Chicago, and there was talk of a new hotel. Also there was talk of several new stores, but Hamilton and Company were inclined to believe this merely talk and did not worry about it.
Their trade was unusually brisk and the demand for Mary-'Gusta's services as salesgirl interfered considerably with her duties as assistant housekeeper.
One fine, clear July morning she came up to the store early in order that the partners might go down to the house for breakfast. They had gone and she had just finished placing on the counters and in other likely spots about the store sheets of sticky fly paper.
