He kissed her and, holding her in his arms, looked fondly down into her eyes. And, as she returned his look, suddenly she blushed crimson and hid her face in his jacket. Then she broke away and with a good night ran from the room and up the stairs. Shadrach looked after her, sighed, and, after finishing his locking up, went upstairs himself. There was a light in his partner's room and he entered to find Mr. Hamilton sitting at the little table with several sheets of paper covered with figures spread out before him. The Captain was so busy with his own thoughts that, for the moment, he did not notice the papers. “Zoeth,” he said, “our Mary-'Gusta's changed into a grown-up woman. Even this last summer has changed her. She don't look any older, and she's prettier than ever, but she thinks different, and I have a notion that, no matter how much we may want to, you and me ain't goin' to be able to keep her to ourselves as we--Eh?” suddenly becoming aware of his friend's occupation. “Are you still fussin' over those things? Didn't I tell you not to worry any more, but to turn in and sleep?” Zoeth shook his head. His usually placid, gentle face had lost some of its placidity. He looked worn and worried and the shadows thrown by the lamp deepened the lines in his forehead. He looked up over his spectacles. “Shadrach,” he said, “I can't help it. I try not to worry and I try to heave my burdens onto the Almighty, same as we're commanded, but I can't seem to heave the whole of 'em there. If things don't pick up pretty soon, I don't know--I don't know--and I don't dare think,” he added despairingly. The sheet of paper he was holding rattled as his hand shook. Captain Shad scowled. “If we didn't have our winter goods to buy,” he muttered. “Our credit's good, that's one comfort.” “It is up to now, because the Boston folks don't know. But WE know, or we're afraid we know, and that makes it worse. How can we go on buyin' from folks that has stood our friends ever since we went into business, knowin' as we do that--” His partner interrupted. “We don't know anything yet,” he declared. “Keep a stiff upper lip, Zoeth. Nine chances to one we'll weather it all right. WHAT a summer this has been! And when I think,” he added savagely, “of how well we got along afore those new stores came it makes me nigh crazy. I'll go out with a card of matches some night and burn 'em down. Damn pirates! Callin' themselves good Cape Cod names--names that don't belong to 'em! Baker's Bazaar! Ugh! Rheinstein's Robbers' Roost would be nigher the truth. . . . Say, Zoeth, we mustn't hint a word to Mary-'Gusta about this. We've got cash enough on hand to pay her clearance charges up there at school, ain't we?”