"Put him right down, please," she said. "He'll be better soon as he's
put down. He's never traveled before and it's kind of strange to him.
He'll be all right and I'll come back and let him out pretty soon.
Mayn't I, Mr.--Mr. Chase?"

"Huh? Yes, yes, you can if you want to, I cal'late. I don't want to,
that's sure."

He deposited the basket on the floor at his feet. Mary-'Gusta looked at
it rather dubiously and for an instant seemed about to speak, but
she did not, and followed Mr. Hamilton from the kitchen, through the
adjoining room, evidently the dining-room, and up a narrow flight of
stairs.

"I cal'late we'll put her in the spare room, won't we, Isaiah?" queried
Zoeth, with some hesitation.

Isaiah grunted. "Guess so," he said, ungraciously, "Ain't no other place
that I know of. Bed ain't made, though."

The spare room was of good size, and smelled shut up and musty, as
spare rooms in the country usually do. It was furnished with a bureau,
washstand, and two chairs, each painted in a robin's egg blue with
sprays of yellow roses. There were several pictures on the walls, their
subjects religious and mournful. The bed was, as Mr. Chase had said, not
made; in fact it looked as if it had not been made for some time.

"I've been cal'latin' to make up that bed for more'n a month," explained
Isaiah. "Last time 'twas unmade was when Zoeth had that minister from
Trumet here of a Saturday and Sunday. Every day I've cal'lated to make