"We'll hang on to her for a spell, I shouldn't wonder; but one of these days, a hundred years from now or such matter, there's liable to be a good-lookin' young feller sparkin' 'round here and he'll want to marry her and take her somewheres else.

What'll you say when it comes to that, Mary-'Gusta ?" Mary-'Gusta thought it over.

"If 'twas a hundred years from now," she said, "I guess he wouldn't want me." The Captain laughed uproariously.

"Well, maybe we can discount that hundred some for cash," he admitted.

"Make it twelve or fifteen years.
Then suppose somebody--er--er--" with a wink at Zoeth--"suppose Jimmie Bacheldor, we'll say, comes and wants us to put you in his hands, what'll you say then ?" The answer was prompt enough this time.
"I'll say no," asserted Mary-'Gusta, with decision.