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Updated: June 6, 2025
If you ain't worth a hogshead of girls like Irene Mullet then I miss my guess." "Hush, Uncle Shad; what difference does that make?" And now Zoeth put in a word. "Mary-'Gusta," he said, "you know what a good school like the one Shad's been speakin' of can do for a girl. I know you know it.
On the silent, frosty air, Kit heard Shad's clear whistle, and over the fringe of pines along the river there came the murmur of the waterfall. There was none of the family in sight when they turned up the drive, but suddenly Kit's eager eyes saw a familiar figure out by the chicken coops, and leaning forward she gave a shrill co-oee! Doris' head went up like a startled deer.
The remainder of her "things" and belongings were sent over by the Judge and, in due time, the guardianship papers were signed. "There!" exclaimed Zoeth, laying down the pen. "That settles it, I cal'late. Now, Mary-'Gusta, you're our little girl, mine and your Uncle Shad's, for good and all." "Not quite so long as that, Zoeth," put in the smiling Shadrach.
Zoeth's welcome was as hearty, if not as exuberant, as Captain Shad's. He met her at the door and after the first hug and kiss held her off at arm's length and looked her over. "My! my! my!" he exclaimed. "And this is our little Mary-'Gusta come back again! It don't seem as if it could be, somehow." "But it is, Uncle Zoeth," declared Mary, laughing. "And ISN'T it good to be here!
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.
The girls had volunteered to help her pick over berries for canning the following day. It was a sacrifice to make, too, with the midsummer evening calling to them in all its varied orchestral tones: Katydids and peep frogs, the swish of the wind through the big Norway pines on the terraces, and the scrape of Shad's old fiddle from the back porch. It was Friday evening, and Mr. and Mrs.
She did not add that with Shad's help and able cooperation, she had managed to curtail the chase of the gypsy moth, temporarily, by holding the chaser captive in the family corn-crib, but she inwardly suspected that Stanley was remembering it. Every once in a while she accidentally caught him looking at her, with a look of amused, interested retrospection that made her vaguely uncomfortable.
I am not going to worry the way Shadrach does about your getting here safe and sound. The Lord's been mighty good to us and I am sure He will fetch you to our door all right. I am contented to trust you in His hands. P.S. One or both of us will meet you at the depot. Captain Shad's epistle was more worldly but not more coherent.
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