Cap'n Dan's Daughter Part 15

Daniel, to whom the idea of selling the home of which he had been so proud was unthinkable, ignored the question.

"You couldn't leave her here," he declared. "She wouldn't stay. Zuba's queer--all her tribe are and always was--but she's n.o.body's fool. She'd know right off you were tryin' to get rid of her. No, it may be all right enough to leave Nate Bangs in charge of the store, because he'd like nothin' better, but you can't leave Zuba in the house."

"Then what can we do with her?"

"Take her with us. She can do housekeepin' in Scarford same as she can here, can't she?"

"Take her with us! Why, Daniel Dott! the very idea! Think of Azuba in a place like that Scarford mansion! Think of her and that dignified, polite Hapgood man together! Think of it!"

The captain seemed to find the thought amusing.

"Say, that would be some fun, wouldn't it?" he chuckled. "I'd risk Zuba, though. He wouldn't do the Grand Panjandrum over her more'n once. I'd risk her to hold up her end."

"What do you think the B. Phelps Blacks would say if they saw Azuba trotting through the grand front hall with her kitchen ap.r.o.n on?"

The mention of the name had an odd effect upon the captain. He straightened in his chair.

"I don't care what they say," he declared. "I don't care what the Blacks would say, nor the Yellows nor the Blues either. If they don't like it they can stay in their own front halls and lock the door. Look here, Serena: Zuba Ginn has been with us ever since Gertie was born; she took care of her when she had the scarlet fever, set up nights and run the risk of catchin' it herself, and all that. The doctor told us that if it hadn't been for Zuba and her care and self-sacrifice and common sense Gertie would have died. She may be queer and hard to keep in her place, as you call it, and a regular walkin' talkin' machine, and all that. I don't say she ain't. What I do say is she's been good enough for us all these years and she's good enough for me now. She ain't got any folks; her husband is as queer as she is, and only shows up once in two or three years, when he happens to think of it. She ain't got any home but ours, and n.o.body else to turn to, and I won't cast her adrift just because I've got more money than I did have. I'd be ASHAMED to do it.

No, sir! if Zuba Ginn wants to go to Scarford, along with us, she goes, or I don't go myself."

He struck the desk a violent blow with his clenched fist. Serena regarded him with astonishment. It had been a long time since she had seen him like this, not since the old seafaring days.

"Why--why, Daniel," she faltered, "I didn't mean to make you cross. I--I only thought.... Of course, she can go with us if you feel that way."

"That's the way I feel," said her husband shortly. Then, as if suddenly awakening and with a relapse into his usual manner, he added, "Was I cross? I'm real sorry, Serena. Say, don't you want some candy?

Nathaniel's just openin' a new case from Boston. Hi, Sam! Sam! bring me a pound box of those Eureka chocolates, will you?"

Serena did not again suggest Azuba's remaining in Trumet. Neither she nor Captain Dan referred to the subject again. Mrs. Dott was, to tell the truth, just a bit frightened; she did not understand her husband's sudden outbreak of determination. And yet the explanation was simple enough. So long as he was the only sufferer, so long as only his own preferences and wishes were pushed aside for those of his wife or daughter, he was meekly pa.s.sive or, at the most, but moderately rebellious; here, however, was an injustice--or what he considered an injustice--done to someone else, and he "put his foot down" for once, at least.

So, upon the fateful day when, preceded by a wagonload of trunks and bags and boxes, the Dotts once more drove through Scarford's streets to the mansion which was to be their home--permanently, according to Serena; temporarily, so her husband hoped--Azuba accompanied them. And Azuba was wildly excited and tirelessly voluble. Even Captain Dan, the long-suffering, grew weary of her exclamations and chatter at last.

"Say, Zuba," he remonstrated, "is this an all-day service you're givin'

us? If it is, I wish you'd take up a collection or somethin', for a change. Mrs. Dott and I are gettin' sort of tired of the sermon."

"Why--why, what do you mean? I was only just sayin' I never see so many folks all at once since that time I was at the Brockton cattle show.

I'll bet there's a million right on this street."

"I'll take the bet. Now you start in and count 'em, and let's see who wins. Count 'em to yourself, that's all I ask."

Azuba, with an indignant toss of the "made-over" hat, subsided for the time. But the sight of the Aunt Lavinia mansion, with Mr. Hapgood bowing a welcome from the steps, was too much for her.

"Oh!" she burst forth. "Oh! you don't mean to tell me THAT'S it! Why, it's perfectly grand! And--and there's the minister comin' to call already! Ain't it LOVELY!"

That night, as they sat down for the first meal in the new abode, a meal cooked by Azuba and served by the light-footed, soft-spoken, deft-handed Hapgood, Serena voiced the exultation she felt.

"There, Daniel," she observed, beaming across the table at her husband, "now you begin to appreciate what it means, don't you. NOW you begin to see the difference."

Captain Dan, glancing up at the obsequious Hapgood standing at his elbow, hesitated.

"Yes, sir?" said Mr. Hapgood anxiously. "What is it you wish, sir?"

"Nothin', nothin'. Why, yes, I tell you: You go out and--and buy me a cigar somewhere. Here's the money."

"Cigar, sir? Yes, sir. What kind do you--"

"Any kind; only get it quick."

Then, as the door closed behind the dignified Hapgood, he added:

"I've got three cigars in my pocket now, but that doesn't matter. I had to send him after somethin'! Say, Serena, is it real necessary to have that undertaker hangin' over us ALL the time? Every time he looks at me I feel as if he was takin' my measure. Has EVERY meal got to be a funeral?"

There was no doubt that the captain noticed the difference. He noticed it more the following day, and more still on each succeeding one.

The next evening the Blacks called--called in state. A note from Mrs.

Black, arriving by the morning's post, announced their coming. Serena noted the Black stationery, its quality and the gilded monogram, and resolved to order a supply of her own immediately. Also she bade her husband don his newest and best. She did the same, and when Captain Dan, painfully conscious of a pair of tight shoes, entered the drawing-room he found her already there.

"My!" he exclaimed, regarding her with admiration, "you do look fine, Serena. Is that the one the Boston dressmaker made?"

"Yes. I'm glad you like it."

"Couldn't help likin' it. I can't hardly realize it's my wife that's got it on. Walk around and let me take an observation. Whew! I always said you looked ten years younger than you are. THAT rig don't spell forty-five next January, Serena."

Mrs. Dott sniffed.

"Don't remind me of my age, Daniel," she protested. "It isn't necessary to tell everyone how old I am."

"All right. n.o.body'd guess it, anyhow. But how funny you walk. What makes you take such little short steps?"

"I can't help it. This dress--gown, I mean--is so tight I can hardly step at all."

"Have to shake out a reef, won't you? How in the world did you get downstairs--hop?"

"Hush! Don't be foolish. The gown is no tighter than anyone else's. It's the style, Daniel, and you and I must get used to it. Are those your new shoes?"

"They certainly are. Do they look as new as they feel? I walk about the way you do, Serena. Bein' in style ain't all joy, is it?"

"It's better than being out of it. And, Daniel, please remember not to say 'ain't.' I've asked you so many times. We have our opportunity now and so must improve ourselves. You're not keeping store in the country any longer. You are a man of means, living among cultivated society people, and you must try to behave like the ladies and gentlemen you will be called upon to a.s.sociate with."

"Humph!" doubtfully. "I don't know as I could behave like a lady if I tried. As for the gentleman, if you mean Barney Black--"

"I mean B. Phelps Black. Don't you dare call him Barney to-night. If you do I shall be SO mortified. Hush! Here they are. Very well, Hapgood. You may show them in."

Even Serena's new gown, fine as it was and proud as she had been of it, lost something of its glory and sank into a modest second place when Annette appeared. Mrs. Black had dressed for the occasion. Also, she had insisted upon her husband's dressing.

"What in blazes must I climb into a dress suit for?" demanded that gentleman grumpily. "Going to call on Dan Dott and his wife. You don't expect Dan to be wearing a dress suit, do you? He never wore one in his life."

"It doesn't make any difference what he wears. I want you to go in evening dress."