“I know what he did, Shadrach; you don’t need to tell me.  But he’s dead, and his boy is a good boy—­you liked him and so did I. And Shadrach, I’ve been thinkin’ an awful lot about this since I got the letter and have been well enough to think.  And I’ve made up my mind to just this:  There has been sorrow and trouble enough brought on already by that wickedness.  There shan’t be any more.  What wrecked all our lives thirty-five years ago shan’t wreck these two, if I can help it.  If Mary-’Gusta cares for him and he for her they must have each other and be happy.  And you and I will be happy watchin’ their happiness.”

He paused and then added: 

“So I wish, Shadrach, there was some way of findin’ out for sure that she sent him away because she didn’t care for him and not for any other reason.”

Shadrach rose from his chair and laid his hand on his friend’s shoulder.  He cleared his throat once or twice before speaking and there was still a shake in his voice as he said: 

“Zoeth, you’re a better man than I ever hope to be.  I declare you make me ashamed of myself.”

Neither of them ate much dinner, although Isaiah had prepared a cranberry pie, made from the first fruit of the fall season, and was correspondingly disappointed when both of his employers left it untouched.

“Ain’t a mite of use my slavin’ myself to death cookin’ fancy vittles for this crew,” he grumbled.  “I stood over that cookstove this mornin’ until I got so everlastin’ hot that every time the cold air blowed onto me I steamed.  And yet I can’t satisfy.”

“Oh, yes, you can,” observed Captain Shad, rising from the table.  “You satisfied us too quick, that was the trouble.  We was satisfied afore we got to the pie.”

“Umph!  I want to know!  Well, Mary-’Gusta was satisfied afore that.  She didn’t eat hardly anything.  Said she wan’t hungry.  I swan if it ain’t discouragin’!  What’s the use of you folks havin’ a cook?  If you’re goin’ to have canary-bird appetites, why don’t you feed on bird seed and be done with it?  And I do believe I never made a better pie than that!”

“Where’s Mary-’Gusta?” asked Zoeth.

“I don’t know.  She went up to her room.  She may be there yet, or she may have come down and gone out again—­I don’t know.  If she did come down I didn’t see her.”

Shadrach looked out of the window.  It had been a dark, gloomy morning and now it was beginning to rain.  The wind was whining through the tops of the silver-leafs and the moan of the breakers on the bar sounded with a clearness which denoted the approach of a northeaster.

“Dirty weather,” observed the Captain.  “And it’ll be dirtier yet before night.  You better stay here in snug harbor this afternoon, Zoeth.  Simmie and the boy and Mary-’Gusta and I can tend store all right.  Yes, yes, you stay right here and keep dry.  Hope Mary-’Gusta took an umbrella when she went.”

“I don’t know as she has gone,” said Isaiah.  “She may be upstairs in her room yet.  That’s where she was.”