"Why not? I've sold a good many there."

"I don't care if you have. You shan't sell any more. 'Twas all right
when you was just a--a girl, a South Harnisser like the rest of us, but
now that you're a Boston young lady, up to a fin--er--what-d'ye-call-it
--er--endin' school--"

"Finishin' school, Shadrach," corrected Mr. Hamilton.

"Well, whatever 'tis; I know 'twould be the end of ME if I had to live
up to the style of it. 'Anyhow, now that you're there, Mary-'Gusta, a
young lady, same as I said, we ain't--"

But Mary interrupted. "Hush, Uncle Shad," she commanded. "Hush, this
minute! You're talking nonsense, I AM a South Harniss girl and I'm NOT
a Boston young lady. My chief reasons for being so very happy at the
thought of coming home here for my Christmas vacation were, first, that
I should see you and Uncle Zoeth and Isaiah and the house and the horse
and the cat and the hens, and, next, that I could help you with the
Christmas trade at the store. I know perfectly well you need me. I'm
certain you have been absolutely lost without me. Now, really and truly,
haven't you?"

"Not a mite," declared the Captain, stoutly, spoiling the effect of the
denial, however, by adding, although his partner had not spoken: "Shut
up, Zoeth! We ain't, neither."

Mary laughed. "Uncle Shad," she said, "I don't believe you. At any rate,
I'm going up there this minute to see for myself. Come along!"