The maid who answered the bell wore a white apron which crackled with starch.  She looked as if she too had, like the step, been scrubbed a few minutes before.

“This is No.—­, ain’t it?” inquired the Captain.  “Humph!  I thought so.  I ain’t so much of a wreck yet but that I can navigate Boston without a pilot.  Is Mr. Keith in?”

The maid, who had received the pilot statement with uncomprehending astonishment, looked relieved.

“Yes, sir,” she said.  “Mr. Keith’s here.  Are you the ones he’s expectin’?  Walk in, please.”

They entered the house.  It was as spotlessly tidy within as without.  The maid ushered them into a parlor where old mahogany and old family portraits in oil were very much in evidence.

“Sit down, please,” she said.  “I’ll tell Mr. Keith you’re here.”

She left the room.  Mary-’Gusta turned to the Captain in amazed agitation.

“Uncle Shad,” she demanded, “why on earth did you come here to see Mr. Keith?  Couldn’t you have seen him at South Harniss?”

Shadrach shook his head.  “Not today I couldn’t,” he said.  “He’s up here today.”

“But what do you want to see him for?”

“Business, business, Mary-’Gusta.  Mr. Keith and me are tryin’ to do a little stroke of business together.  We’ve got a hen on, as the feller said.  Say, this is kind of a swell house, ain’t it?  And clean—­my soul!  Judas! did I move this chair out of place?  I didn’t mean to.  Looks as if it had set right in that one spot for a hundred years.”

Keith entered at that moment, followed by an elderly lady whose gown was almost as old-fashioned as the furniture.  She was a rather thin person but her face, although sharp, was not unkind in expression and her plainly arranged hair was white.  Mary-’Gusta liked her looks; she guessed that she might be very nice indeed to people she knew and fancied; also that she would make certain of knowing them first.

“Hello, Captain Gould,” hailed Keith.  “Glad to see you.  Found the place all right, I see.”

“Yes—­yes, I found it, Mr. Keith.”

“I thought you wouldn’t have any difficulty.  Mary, how do you do?”

Mary-’Gusta and Mr. Keith shook hands.

“Captain,” said Keith, “I want to introduce you to my cousin, Mrs. Wyeth.”

Mrs. Wyeth bowed with dignity.

“How do you do, Captain Gould,” she said.

“Why—­why, I’m pretty smart, thank you, ma’am,” stammered Shadrach, rather embarrassed at all this ceremony.  “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

“And this young lady,” went on Keith, “is Miss Mary Lathrop.  Miss Lathrop, this lady is Mrs. Wyeth, my cousin.”

Mary-’Gusta, with the uneasy feeling that Mrs. Wyeth’s gaze had been fixed upon her since she entered the room, bowed but said nothing.

“And now,” said Mr. Keith, heartily, “we’ll have luncheon.  You’re just in time and Mrs. Wyeth has been expecting you.”