Isaiah said he didn’t cal’late that he knew anybody of that name.  The dialogue was interrupted here by the arrival of Zoeth and, a moment later, Captain Shadrach.  Breakfast was put upon the table in the dining-room and the quartette sat down to eat.

Mary-’Gusta was quiet during the meal; she answered when spoken to but the only questions she asked were concerning David.

“He’s all right,” said Captain Shad.  “Lively as can be.  He’ll have a good time out in that barn; there’s considerable many mice out there.  Likes mice, don’t he?”

“Yes, sir.  He’s a good mouser.  Did he look as if he missed me?”

“Eh?  Well, I didn’t notice.  He never mentioned it if he did.  You can go see him after breakfast.  What do you think she can find to do today, Zoeth?”

Mr. Hamilton had evidently considered the problem.

“I thought maybe she’d like to go up to the store ’long of you and me,” he suggested.  “Would you, Mary’Gusta?”

Mary-’Gusta hesitated.  “I’d like to very much,” she said, “only—­”

“Only what?”

“Only I’ve got to see to David and the dolls first.  Couldn’t I come up to the store afterwards?”

The Captain answered.  “Why, I guess likely you could,” he said.  “It’s straight up the road to the corner.  You can see the store from the top of the hill back here.  Isaiah’ll show you the way.  But you can ’tend to—­what’s that cat’s name?—­Oh, yes, David—­you can ’tend to David right off.  Isaiah’ll give the critter his breakfast, and the dolls can wait ’til noontime, can’t they?”

Mary-’Gusta’s mind was evidently divided between inclination and duty.  Duty won.

“They ain’t dressed yet,” she said, gravely.  “And besides they might think I’d gone off and left ’em and be frightened.  This is a strange place to them, same as it is to me and David, you know.  None of us have ever been visitin’ before.”

So it was decided that she should wait until her family had been given parental attention, and come to the store by herself.  The partners left for their place of business and she and Mr. Chase remained at the house.  Her first act, after leaving the table, was to go to the barn and return bearing the cat in her arms.  David ate a hearty breakfast and then, after enduring a motherly lecture concerning prudence and the danger of getting lost, was permitted to go out of doors.

Mary-’Gusta, standing in the doorway, gazed after her pet.

“I hope there’s no dogs around here,” she said.  “It would be dreadful if there was a dog.”

Isaiah tried to reassure her.  “Oh, I cal’late there ain’t no dog nigh enough to do any harm,” he said; “besides, most cats can run fast enough to get out of the way.”

The child shook her head.  “I didn’t mean that,” she said.  “I meant it would be dreadful for the dog.  David doesn’t have a mite of patience with dogs.  He doesn’t wait to see if they’re nice ones or not, he just goes for ’em and then—­Oh!  He most always goes for ’em.  When he has kittens he always does.”