“But if he isn’t sick, why isn’t he at the store?  Who is there?”

The Captain chuckled.

“Not a solitary soul,” he declared.  “That store’s shut up tight and it’s goin’ to stay that way this whole blessed evenin’.  Zoeth and me we talked it over.  I didn’t know but we’d better get Abel Snow’s boy or that pesky Annabel or somebody to stay while we was havin’ supper.  You see, we was both sot on eatin’ supper with you tonight, no matter store or not, and Isaiah, he was just as sot as we was.  But all to once Zoeth had an idea.  ‘Shadrach,’ he says, ‘in Scriptur’ times when people was real happy, same as we are now, they used to make a sacrifice to the Almighty to show how glad and grateful they was.  Let’s you and me make a sacrifice; let’s sacrifice this evenin’s trade—­let’s shut up the store on account of our girl’s comin’ home.’  ‘Good idea!’ says I, so we did it.”

Mary looked at him reproachfully.

“Oh, Uncle Shad,” she said, “you shouldn’t have done that.  It was dear and sweet of you to think of it, but you shouldn’t have done it.  It didn’t need any sacrifice to prove that you were glad to see me.”

Shadrach winked over his shoulder.

“Don’t let that sacrifice worry you any,” he observed.  “The sacrifice is mainly in Zoeth’s eye.  Fur’s I’m concerned—­well, Jabez Hedges told me yesterday that Rastus Young told him he cal’lated he’d have to be droppin’ in at the store some of these nights to buy some rubber boots and new ileskins.  We sold him the ones he’s got four years ago and he ain’t paid for ’em yet.  No, no, Mary-’Gusta, don’t you worry about that sacrifice.  I can sacrifice Rastus Young’s trade eight days in the week and make money by it.  Course I didn’t tell Zoeth that; have to humor these pious folks much as we can, you know.”

Mary smiled, but she shook her head.  “It’s no use your talking to me in that way, Uncle Shad,” she said.  “I know you too well.  And right in the Christmas season, too!”

Zoeth’s welcome was as hearty, if not as exuberant, as Captain Shad’s.  He met her at the door and after the first hug and kiss held her off at arm’s length and looked her over.

“My! my! my!” he exclaimed.  “And this is our little Mary-’Gusta come back again!  It don’t seem as if it could be, somehow.”

“But it is, Uncle Zoeth,” declared Mary, laughing.  “And isn’t it good to be here!  Well, Isaiah,” turning to Mr. Chase, who, aproned and shirtsleeved as usual, had been standing grinning in the background, “haven’t you anything to say to me?”

Isaiah had something to say and he said it.

“Glad to see you,” he announced.  “Feelin’ pretty smart?  Got a new hat, ain’t you?  Supper’s ready.”

During the meal Mary was kept busy answering questions concerning school and her life at Mrs. Wyeth’s.  In her letters she had endeavored to tell every possible item of news which might be interesting to her uncles, but now these items were one by one recalled, reviewed, and discussed.