Zoeth sighed.  “I wish—­” he said slowly, “I wish I knew—­”

“What do you wish you knew?”

“Eh?  Oh, nothin’.  If—­if I was only a little mite stronger I’d try to talk with Mary-’Gusta myself.  I’d like—­I’d like to have her tell me about it.”

“Meanin’ you don’t believe me, eh?  There, there, shipmate, it’s all right.  I was only jokin’.  But I wouldn’t ask Mary-’Gusta about that, if I was you.  Course I know she cares as much or more for her Uncle Zoeth than for anybody on earth, and she’d tell him anything if he asked her; but I don’t believe—­Well, I wouldn’t ask, if I was you.  You understand?”

“Yes, yes, Shadrach, I think I understand.  You mean she felt bad to have to say—­what she did say—­to that young man and she wouldn’t want to be reminded of it?”

“That’s about it, Zoeth.”

Silence for some minutes.  Both partners were occupied with their thoughts.  Then Zoeth said: 

“Shadrach, I—­I—­”

He did not finish the sentence.  The Captain ventured to remind him.

“Yes, Zoeth, what is it?” he asked.

“Nothin’.  I—­I can’t tell you now.  By and by, if the good Lord gives me strength again, I’ll—­Never mind, now.  Don’t ask me, please.”

So Shadrach did not ask, but he was puzzled and a little anxious.  What was it his partner had to tell and found the telling so difficult?

CHAPTER XXVIII

It was not until a day in mid-September that Captain Shadrach learned his partner’s secret.  He and Zoeth and Mary were at the store together.  Business was still good, but the rush was over.  The summer cottages were closing and most of the Cape hotels had already closed.  The For’ard Lookout had taken down its sign at the end of the previous week.  Its voyage for that year was over.  It had been a prosperous one.

Mary was sorry that the busy season was at an end.  She was very, very tired; she had allowed herself no rest, had taken no holidays, had done her best to think of nothing except matters connected with Hamilton and Company or the tea-room.  These, fortunately, had given her enough to think of; other thoughts she resolutely crowded from her mind.  Now there would be no tea-room to plan for, and, thanks to Sim Crocker and the competent way in which he had assumed care of the store, she no longer felt the absolute necessity of remaining there from daylight until late in the evening.  Her Uncle Zoeth was almost well, also; she would no longer have his health as an additional burden upon her mind.  She was in danger of being forced to think of herself, and that she knew she must not do.  Thinking of herself would surely mean thinking of someone else and of what might have been.  And what useless, hopeless thinking that would be!  No, no!  She must find something else to keep her thoughts occupied.