hockey game. Samuel, my cousin John Keith's boy,
played in it. Now, Captain Gould, I have a suggestion to make. It has
been some years since you met Crawford Smith and I think, everything
considered, you should meet him again and decide for yourself whether
or not you still consider him a proper young person to call upon your
niece. Suppose you dine with us again tomorrow evening and I invite
young Smith also. Then--"

But the Captain interrupted. He had a plan of his own for the following
evening and another meal at Mrs. Wyeth's was not a part of it.

"Er--er--excuse me, ma'am," he cut in hastily, "but I had a--a kind of
notion that Mary-'Gusta and me might get our supper at a--a eatin'-house
or somewhere tomorrow night and then maybe we'd take in--I mean go to
a show--a theater, I should say. I didn't know but I'd ask this young
Smith feller to go along. And--and--" remembering his politeness, "of
course we'd be real glad if you'd come, too," he added.

But Mrs. Wyeth, although she thanked him and expressed herself as
heartily in favor of the supper and theater party, refused to become a
member of it. The Captain bore the shock of the refusal with, to say the
least, manful resignation. He had a huge respect for Mrs. Wyeth, and
he liked her because his beloved Mary-'Gusta liked her so well, but his
liking was seasoned with awe and her no in this case was a great relief.

So the following evening at six Mary and her uncle met Crawford at the
Quincy House and the three dined together, after which they saw the
performance of "The Music Master" at the Tremont Theater. Crawford found
the dinner quite as entertaining as the play. Captain Shadrach was in
high good humor and his remarks during the meal were characteristic.
He persisted in addressing the dignified waiter as "Steward" and in
referring to the hotel kitchen as the "galley." He consulted his young
guests before ordering and accepted their selections gracefully if not
always silently.

"All right, Mary-'Gusta," he observed. "All right, just as you say.
You're the skipper of this craft tonight, and me and Crawford here are
just passengers. If you say we've got to eat--what is it?--consummer
soup--why, I suppose likely we have. I'll take my chances if Crawford
will. Course, if I was alone here, I'd probably stick to oyster stew and
roast beef. I know what they are. And it's some comfort to be sure of
what you're gettin', as the sick feller said when the doctor tol