The embarrassed Captain would have protested, but the girl’s mind seemed to be made up.

“I guess I will say ’em again,” she said.  “There’s somethin’ in ’em maybe you’d ought to hear.”  She closed her eyes.  “Please God bless Father—­Oh, I forgot—­bless Mrs. Hobbs and Cap’n Gould and Mr. Hamilton.  I thought I’d ask him to bless you, you know, because I’m visitin’ here.  And bless David and Rose and Rosette and Emma and Christobel and Minnehaha.  They’re my dolls.  And please, God, forgive me for breakin’ the music chair and makin’ it go off, because you know I am very sorry and won’t do it again.  And—­and, Oh, yes!—­bless Mr. Chase, Amen.  You don’t mind my puttin’ you and Mr. Chase in, do you?”

“No, dearie, not a mite,” said Zoeth.

Captain Shad, looking more embarrassed than ever, shook his head.  “Good night,” said Mary-’Gusta.  Zoeth hesitated, then he walked over and kissed her.

“Good night, little girl,” he said.

“Good night, Mr. Hamilton,” said Mary-’Gusta.  Then she turned expectantly toward the Captain.  Shadrach fidgeted, turned to go, and then, turning back, strode to the bed, brushed the soft cheek with his rough one and hastened out into the hall.  Zoeth followed him, bearing the lamp.  At the door of the Captain’s room, they paused.

“Well, good night, Zoeth,” said Shadrach, brusquely.

“Good night, Shadrach.  This—­this is queer business for you and me, ain’t it?”

“I should think ’twas.  Humph!  You said this morning that maybe Marcellus was alongside of us today.  If he is he knows what’s happened, don’t he?”

“Perhaps he knows that and more, Shadrach.  Perhaps he can see what’ll happen in the future.  Perhaps he knows that, too.”

“Humph!  Well, if he does, he knows a heap more’n I do.  Good night.”

CHAPTER V

Mary-’Gusta awoke next morning to find the sun shining in at the window of her bedroom.  She had no means of knowing the time, but she was certain it must be very late and, in consequence, was almost dressed when Isaiah knocked at the door to tell her breakfast would be ready pretty soon.  A few minutes later she appeared in the kitchen bearing the pitcher from the washstand in her room.

“What you doin’ with that?” demanded Mr. Chase, who was leaning against the door-post looking out into the yard.

“I was goin’ to fill it,” said the child.  “There wasn’t any water to wash with.”

Isaiah sniffed.  “I ain’t had no time to fill wash pitchers,” he declared.  “That one’s been on my mind for more’n a fortni’t but I’ve had other things to do.  You can wash yourself in that basin in the sink.  That’s what the rest of us do.”

Mary-’Gusta obediently washed in the tin basin and rubbed her face and hands dry upon the roller towel behind the closet door.

“Am I late for breakfast?” she asked, anxiously.