The Captain was inclined to fear that the most of the worrying would be done by Hamilton and Company, but he expressed no more misgivings.  Besides, if anyone could sell all those goods, that one was his Mary-’Gusta, he was perfectly sure of that.  He believed her quite capable of performing almost any miracle.  Had she not pulled the firm off the rocks where he and his partner had almost wrecked it?  Wasn’t she the most wonderful young woman on earth?  Old as he was, Captain Shad would probably have attempted to thrash any person who expressed a doubt of that.

And the goods were sold, all of them and more.  The advertisements, temptingly worded, appeared in the county weeklies, and circulars were sent through the mails.  Partly by enterprise and partly through influence—­Mr. Keith helped here—­Mary attained for Hamilton and Company the contract for supplying the furniture and draperies for the new hotel which a New York syndicate was building at Orham Neck.  It was purely a commission deal, of course—­everything was purchased in Boston—­and Hamilton and Company’s profit was a percentage, but even a small percentage on so large a sale made a respectable figure on a check and helped to pay more of the firm’s debts.  And those debts, the old ones, were now reduced to an almost negligible quantity.

The secondhand horse and wagon still continued to go upon their rounds, but the boy had been replaced by an active young fellow whose name was Crocker and who was capable of taking orders as well as delivering them.  When Captain Shadrach was told—­not consulted concerning but told—­the wages this young man was to receive, he was, as he confided to Isaiah afterward, “dismasted, stove in, down by the head and sinkin’ fast.”

“Mary-’Gusta Lathrop!” he cried, in amazement.  “Are you goin’ stark loony?  Payin’ that Simmie Crocker fourteen dollars a week for drivin’ team and swappin’ our good sugar and flour for sewin’-circle lies over folks’ back fences!  I never heard such a thing in my life.  Why, Baker’s Bazaar don’t pay the man on their team but ten a week.  I know that ’cause he told me so himself.  And Baker’s Bazaar’s got more trade than we have.”

“Yes.  And that is exactly why we need a better man than they have, so that we can get more trade.  Simeon Crocker is an ambitious young chap.  He isn’t going to be contented with fourteen long.”

“Oh, he ain’t, eh?  Well, I ain’t contented with it now, I tell you that.  Fourteen dollars a week for drivin’ cart!  Jumpin’ fire!  Why, the cart itself ain’t worth more’n fifteen and for twenty-five I’d heave in the horse for good measure.  But I’d never get the chance,” he added, “unless I could make the trade in the dark.”

Mary laughed and patted his shoulder.

“Never mind, Uncle Shad,” she said, confidently, “Sim Crocker at fourteen a week is a good investment.  He will get us a lot of new business now, and next summer—­well, I have some plans of my own for next summer.”