My advice is to let her find out for herself, but, of course, if you feel sure it is wrong, then you must put your foot down, say no, and stick to it. No one can do that for you; you must do it yourself."
Which was perfectly true, as true as the other fact--namely, that Captain Dan could not "stick to it" in a controversy with his wife, having lost the sticking faculty years before.
But, oddly enough, there was one point upon which he did stick and refused to budge: That point was Azuba's going to Scarford with them. Mrs. Ginn's attitude when she was told of the family exodus was a great surprise. Serena, who broke the news to her, expected grief and lamentations; instead Azuba was delighted.
"Well, now!" she exclaimed. "Ain't that fine! Ain't that splendid! I always wanted to go somewhere's besides Trumet, and now I'm goin'. I always told Labe, my husband, that if there was one thing I was jealous of him about 'twas travelin'. 'You go from Dan to Beersheby,' I says to him, 'any time you want to.' 'Yes,' says he--this was the last time he was to home, three years ago--'Yes,' he says, 'and when I don't want to, too.' 'And I,' I says, 'I have to say stuck here in Trumet like a post in a rail fence.' 'You look more like the rail, Zuby,' he says--he's always pokin' fun 'cause I ain't fleshy. 'Don't make no difference what I LOOK like,' I says, 'here I be and I ain't never been further than the Brockton cattle show since I was ten year old.' But now I'm goin' to travel at last. My! I'm so tickled I don't know what to do. I'll start in makin' my last fall's hat over this very night. Say, it's a good thing you've got me to help in the goin' and the settlin', ain't it, Sereny--Mrs. Dott, I mean."
In the face of this superb confidence Serena, who had intended leaving Azuba behind, lacked the courage to mention the fact. And when she sought her husband in the store and asked him to do it, he flatly refused.
"What!" he said. "Tell Zuba Ginn we're goin' to cast her adrift! I should say not! Of course we can't do any such thing, Serena."
"But what can we do with her, Daniel? We might leave her here to take care of the place, I suppose, but that would only be for a time, until we find somebody to buy it. Of course we can't run two places, and we'll have to sell this one some time or other."
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 nobody'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 apron 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 nobody 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 passive 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