"Real relations?" asked Mary-'Gusta, eagerly.

"Well, no, not real ones; I'm afraid we couldn't do that. But when
it comes to make-believe, that might be different." He hesitated an
instant, glanced at the Captain, and then added: "I tell you what
you do: you just pretend I'm your relation, a--well, an uncle, that's
better'n nothin'. You just call me 'Uncle Zoeth.' That'll be a start,
anyhow. Think you'd like to call me 'Uncle Zoeth'?"

Mary-'Gusta's eyes shone. "Oh, yes!" she cried. "Then I could tell that
Jimmie Bacheldor I had one relation, anyhow. And shall I call Cap'n
Gould 'Uncle Shadrach'?"

Zoeth turned to his companion. "Shall she, Shadrach?" he asked, with a
mischievous smile.

If it had not been for that smile the Captain's reply might have been
different. But the smile irritated him. He strode to the door.

"Zoeth Hamilton," he snapped, "how long are you goin' to set here? If
you ain't got anything else to attend to, I have. I'm goin' up to the
store. It's pretty nigh eight o'clock in the mornin' and that store
ain't open yet."

"Want to come along, Mary-'Gusta?" asked Zoeth. "She can come, can't
she, Shad?"

"Yes, yes, course she can," more genially. "Cal'late there's some of
those sassafras--checkerberry lozengers left yet. Come on, Mary-'Gusta,