"Jokin'! Well, he may LOOK like a comic almanac, but he needn't try to
joke like one while that girl of ours is around. Puttin' notions about
fellers and good looks and keepin' company into her head! You might
expect such stuff from them fool drummers that come to the store, but an
old leather-skinned image like Isaiah Chase ought to have more sense. We
don't want such notions put in her head, do we?"

Zoeth rubbed his chin. He did not speak and his silence seemed to
irritate his partner.

"Well, do we?" repeated the latter, sharply.

Zoeth sighed. "No, Shadrach," he admitted. "I guess likely we don't,
but--"

"But what?"

"Well, we've got to realize that those kind of notions come--come sort
of natural to young folks Mary-'Gusta's age."

"Rubbish! I don't believe that girl's got a single one of 'em in her
mind."

"Maybe not, but they'll be there some day. Ah, well," he added, "we
mustn't be selfish, you and me, Shadrach. It'll be dreadful hard to give
her up to somebody else, but if that somebody is a good man, kind and
straight and honest, why, I for one will try not to complain. But, Oh,
Shadrach! Suppose he should turn out to be the other thing. Suppose SHE
makes the mistake that I--"