courage me in the least. But do
please write, if only to tell me how you are getting on with Hamilton
and Company. I only wish I were there to help you pull those fine old
uncles of yours out of the hot water. I know you'll do it, though. And
meanwhile I shall be digging away out here and thinking of you. Please
write OFTEN.

So Mary, after considerable thought and indecision, did write, although
Crawford's suggestion that her letters have no word of love in them
was scrupulously followed. And so, while the summer came and went, the
letters crossed and the news of the slow but certain building up of the
business of Hamilton and Company was exchanged for that of Edwin Smith's
steady regaining of health and strength.

And Hamilton and Company's business was reviving. Even the skeptics
could see the signs. The revival began before the summer residents
arrived in South Harniss, but after the latter began to come and the
cottages to open, it was on in earnest. John Keith helped to give it its
first big start. Mrs. Wyeth wrote him of Mary's leaving her school work
to go to the rescue of Shadrach and Zoeth, and the girl's pluck and
uncomplaining acceptance of the task she considered set for her made
Keith's eyes twinkle with admiration as he read the letter. The family
came early to South Harniss and this year he came with them. One of his
first acts after arrival was to stroll down to the village and enter
Hamilton and Company's store. Mary and the partners were there, of
course. He shook hands with them cordially.

"Well, Captain," he said, addressing Shadrach, "how is the new hand
taking hold?"

Shadrach grinned. "Hand?" he repeated. "I don't know's we've got any new
hand, Mr. Keith. Ain't, have we, Zoeth?"

Zoeth did not recognize the joke. "He means Mary-'Gusta, I cal'late,
Shadrach," he said. "She's doin' splendid, Mr. Keith. I don't know how
we ever got along without her."

"I do," put in his partner promptly; "we didn't, that's how. But, Mr.
Keith, you hadn't ought to call Mary-'Gusta a 'hand.' Zoeth and me are
the hands aboard this craft. She's skipper, and engineer, and purser,
and--yes, and pilot, too. And don't she make us tumble up lively when
she whistles! Whew! Don't talk!"

"She is the boss, then, is she?" observed Keith.

"Boss! I guess SO! She's got US trained! Why, I've got so that I jump
out of bed nights and run round the room in my sleep thinkin' she's
just hollered to me there's a customer wa