starin' like that
for?"

"Them--them pictures," gasped Mr. Chase.

"Well, what about 'em? Where did Mary-'Gusta get 'em, do you know?
Did--Here! Where are you goin'?"

"I--I ain't goin' anywheres. I'm a-goin' downstairs. I got my
dishwashin' to do. I--let go of me, Cap'n Shad! I got to go this minute,
I tell you."

But the Captain did not let go of him. Instead, keeping a firm hold upon
the collar of the frightened cook and steward, he twisted him around
until he could look him straight in the eye. This was difficult, for
Isaiah plainly did not wish to be looked at in that manner.

"Humph!" grunted Captain Shad, after a moment's inspection. "Humph! I
cal'late I've got the right pig by the ear this time. Set down in that
chair, Isaiah Chase; I want to talk to you."

CHAPTER XXIX

The northeaster was developing. It was now raining hard and the wind was
rising. The gusts swept across the top of the little hill and the window
sashes of the For'ard Lookout rattled and the hinges of the ancient
blinds squeaked. The yard, which had been so attractive, was shorn of
its decorations. The tables had been carried inside; the lanterns taken
down; the wonderful sign, pride of the talented Mr. Bemis, had been
tenderly conveyed to the attic. Cook, waitresses and salesgirl had
departed. The tea-room and gift shop had gone into winter quarters to
hibernate until the following spring.

The rooms inside had been thoroughly swept and cleaned and most of the
furniture and the best of the old prints covered with dust cloths. Some
of the smaller articles, however, were still upon the shelves of the
gift shop, Mary having ordered her assistants to leave them there, as
she wished to look them over herself before putting them away. Some
of her selections for stock had sold remarkably well and she had been
obliged to reorder many times; others of which she had been quite
confident when purchasing had not sold at all. Both good sellers and bad
she meant to list as a guide to future choosing.

She was listing them now. Alone in the room which had once been the
sacred best parlor of the little house, she was seated at the table,
pencil in hand and memorandum books and paper before her. There was no
particular reason why the listing should have been done that day; it
might have been done any day until the weather became too cold to work
in an unheated house. That morning she had had no idea of doing it
that afternoon. She was doing