ham and Bayport. The
newspaper advertisements were responsible for this in the beginning, but
those who first came told others that the best stock of Christmas goods
in Ostable County was to be found at the store of Hamilton and Company,
in South Harniss, and so the indirect, word-of-mouth advertising, which
is the best and most convincing kind, spread and brought results.

Christmas itself was a rather dreary day. Zoeth, although improving,
was not yet strong enough to leave his room, and so the Christmas dinner
lacked his presence at the table. Mary and Shadrach sat with him for an
hour or so, but the doctor and nurse had cautioned them against exciting
him, so, although the Captain joked continually, his jokes were
rather fickle and in his mind was his partner's prophecy of two years
before--that the tide which had, up to that time, been coming in for
them, would soon begin to go out. Shadrach could not help feeling that
it had been going out, for poor Zoeth at any rate. The doctor declared
it was coming in again, but how slowly it came! And how far would it
come? This was the first Christmas dinner he had eaten in years without
seeing Mr. Hamilton's kindly, patient face at the other side of the
table.

And Mary, although she tried to appear gay and lighthearted, laughing at
her uncle's jokes and attempting a few of her own, was far from happy.
Work, Captain Shad's recipe for producing forgetfulness, had helped, but
it had not cured. And when, as on a holiday like this, or at night
after she had gone to bed, there was no work to occupy her mind, she
remembered only too well. Crawford had written her, as he promised,
after his return home. He wrote that he and his father were reconciled
and that he had resumed his studies. The letter was brave and cheerful,
there was not a hint of whining or complaint in it. Mary was proud of
him, proud of his courage and self-restraint. She could read between the
lines and the loneliness and hopelessness were there but he had done his
best to conceal them for her sake. If he felt resentment toward her, he
did not show it. Lonely and hopeless as she herself was, her heart went
out to him, but she did not repent her decision. It was better, ever and
ever so much better, as it was. He would forget and be happy by and by,
and would never know his father's shameful story. And poor Uncle Zoeth
would never know, either. As for her--well, she must work, work harder
than ever. Thank God ther