“And now, gentlemen,” said Judge Baxter, “here we are. Sit down and make yourselves comfortable. I shall have a good deal to say and I expect to surprise you. Sit down.”
Captain Gould and Mr. Hamilton were in the Judge's library at his home. The funeral was over, all that was mortal of Marcellus Hall had been laid to rest in the Ostable cemetery, and his two friends and former partners had, on their return from that cemetery, stopped at the Judge's, at the latter's request. He wished, so he said, to speak with them on an important matter.
“Why don't you sit down, Captain?” asked the Judge, noticing that, although Zoeth had seated himself in the rocker which his host had indicated, Shadrach was still standing.
Captain Shadrach laid a hand on the back of the armchair and regarded the lawyer with a very grave face, but with a twinkle in his eye.
“To tell you the truth, Judge,” he said, slowly, “I don't cal'late I ever shall set down again quite so whole-hearted as I used to. You spoke of a surprise, didn't you? I've had one surprise this afternoon that's liable to stay with me for a spell. I'm an unsuspectin' critter, generally speakin', but after that—Say, you ain't got a brass band nor fireworks hitched to THIS chair, have you?”
Judge Baxter laughed heartily. “No,” he said, as soon as he could speak. “No, Captain, my furniture isn't loaded.”
The Captain shook his head. “Whew!” he whistled, sitting down gingerly in the armchair. “Well, that's a mercy. I ain't so young as I used to be and I couldn't stand many such shocks. Whew! Don't talk to ME! When that devilish jig tune started up underneath me I'll bet I hopped up three foot straight. I may be kind of slow sittin' down, but you'll bear me out that I can GET UP sudden when it's necessary. And I thought the dum thing never would STOP.”
Mr. Hamilton stirred uneasily. “Hush, hush, Shadrach!” he pleaded. “Don't be so profane. Remember you've just come from the graveyard.”
“Come from it! By fire! There was a time there when I'd have been willin' to go to it—yes, and stay. All I wanted was to get out of that room and hide somewheres where folks couldn't look at me. I give you my word I could feel myself heatin' up like an airtight stove. Good thing I didn't have on a celluloid collar or 'twould have bust into a blaze. Of all the dummed outrages to spring on a man, that—”
“Shadrach!”
“There, there, Zoeth! I'll calm down. But as for swearin'—well, if you knew how full of cusswords I was there one spell you wouldn't find fault; you'd thank me for holdin' 'em in. I had to batten down my hatches to do it, though; I tell you that.”
Mr. Hamilton turned to their host. “You'll excuse Shadrach, won't you, Judge,” he said, apologetically. “He don't mean nothin' wicked, really. And he feels as bad as I do about Marcellus's bein' took.”
“Course I do!” put in the Captain. “Zoeth's always scared to death for fear I'm bound to the everlastin' brimstone. He forgets I've been to sea a good part of my life and that a feller has to talk strong aboard ship. Common language may do for keepin' store, but it don't get a vessel nowheres; the salt sort of takes the tang out of it, seems so. I'm through for the present, Zoeth. I'll keep the rest till I meet the swab that loaded up that chair for me.”
The Judge laughed again. Then he opened his desk and took from a drawer two folded papers.
“Gentlemen,” he said, gravely, “I asked you to come here with me because there is an important matter, a very important matter, which I, as Captain Hall's legal adviser, must discuss with you.”
Captain Shadrach and Zoeth looked at each other. The former tugged at his beard.
“Hum!” he mused. “Somethin' to do with Marcellus's affairs, is it?”
“Yes.”
“Want to know! And somethin' to do with me and Zoeth?”
“Yes, with both of you. This,” holding up one of the folded papers, “is Captain Hall's will. I drew it for him a year ago and he has appointed me his executor.”
Zoeth nodded. “We supposed likely he would,” he observed.
“Couldn't get a better man,” added Shadrach, with emphasis.
“Thank you. Captain Hall leaves all he possessed—practically all; there is a matter of two hundred dollars for his housekeeper, Mrs. Hobbs, and a few other personal gifts—but he leaves practically all he possessed to his stepdaughter, Mary Lathrop.”
Both his hearers nodded again. “We expected that, naturally,” said the Captain. “It's what he'd ought to have done, of course. Well, she'll be pretty well fixed, won't she?”
Judge Baxter shook his head. “Why, no—she won't,” he said, soberly. “That is a part of the surprise which I mentioned at first. Captain Hall was, practically, a poor man when he died.”
That the prophesied surprise was now a reality was manifest. Both men looked aghast.
“You—you don't mean that, Judge?” gasped Zoeth.
“Poor? Marcellus poor?” cried Shadrach. “Why—why, what kind of talk's that? He didn't have no more than the rest of us when—” he hesitated, glanced at Zoeth, and continued, “when the firm give up business back in '79; but he went to sea again and made considerable, and then he made a whole lot in stocks. I know he did. You know it, too, Zoeth. How could he be poor?”
“Because, like so many other fortunate speculators, he continued to speculate and became unfortunate. He lost the bulk of his winnings in the stock market and—well, to be quite frank, Captain Hall has been a broken man, mentally as well as physically, since his wife's death and his own serious illness. You, yourselves, must have noticed the change in his habits. From being an active man, a man of affairs, he became almost a hermit. He saw but few people, dropped the society of all his old friends, and lived alone—alone except for his various housekeepers and Mary-'Gusta—the little girl, I mean. You must have noticed the change in his relations with you.”
Mr. Hamilton sighed. “Yes,” he said, “we noticed he never came to see us and—and—”
“And wasn't over'n above sociable when we come to see him,” finished Captain Shadrach. “Yes, we noticed that. But I say, Judge, he must have had SOME money left. What became of it?”
“Goodness knows! He was a child, so far as money matters went, in his later years. Very likely he frittered it away in more stock ventures; I know he bought a lot of good for nothing mining shares. At any rate it has gone, all except a few thousands. The house and land where he lived is mortgaged up to the handle, and I imagine there are debts, a good many of them. But whatever there is is left to Mary-'Gusta—everyone calls her that and I seem to have caught the habit. It is left to her—in trust.”
Captain Shadrach thought this over. “In trust with you, I presume likely,” he observed. “Well, as I said afore, he couldn't have found a better man.”
“HE thought he could, two better men. I rather think he was right. You are the two, gentlemen.”
This statement did not have the effect which the Judge expected. He expected exclamations and protests. Instead his visitors looked at each other and at him in a puzzled fashion.
“Er—er—what was that?” queried Mr. Hamilton. “I didn't exactly seem to catch that, somehow or 'nother.”
Judge Baxter turned to the Captain.
“You understood me, didn't you, Captain Gould?” he asked.
Shadrach shook his head.
“Why—why, no,” he stammered; “it didn't seem to soak in, somehow. Cal'late my head must have stopped goin'; maybe the shock I had a spell ago broke the mainspring. All I seem to be real sartin of just now is that the Campbells are comin'. What was it you said?”
“I said that Captain Marcellus Hall has left whatever property he owned, after his creditors are satisfied, to his stepdaughter. He has left it in trust until she becomes of age. And he asks you two to accept that trust and the care of the child. Is that plain?”
It was plain and they understood. But with understanding came, apparently, a species of paralysis of the vocal organs. Zoeth turned pale and leaned back in his chair. Shadrach's mouth opened and closed several times, but he said nothing.
“Of course,” went on Baxter, “before I say any more I think you should be told this: It was Captain Hall's wish that you jointly accept the guardianship of Mary-'Gusta—of the girl—that she live with you and that you use whatever money comes to her from her stepfather's estate in educating and clothing her. Also, of course, that a certain sum each week be paid you from that estate as her board. That was Marcellus's wish; but it is a wish, nothing more. It is not binding upon you in any way. You have a perfect right to decline and—”
Captain Shadrach interrupted.
“Heave to!” he ordered, breathlessly. “Come up into the wind a minute, for mercy sakes! Do you mean to say that me and Zoeth are asked to take that young-one home with us, and take care of her, and dress her, and—and eat her, and bring her up and—and—”
He paused, incoherent in his excitement. The Judge nodded.
“Yes,” he replied, “that is what he asks you to do. But, as I say, you are not obliged to do it; there is no legal obligation. You can say no, if you think it best.”
“If we think—for thunder sakes, Baxter, what was the matter with Marcellus? Was he out of his head? Was he loony?”
“No, he was perfectly sane.”
“Then—then, what—Zoeth,” turning wildly to Mr. Hamilton, who still sat, pale and speechless, in his chair; “Zoeth,” he demanded, “did you ever hear such craziness in your life? Did you ever HEAR such stuff?”
Zoeth merely shook his head. His silence appeared to add to his friend's excitement.
“Did you?” he roared.
Zoeth muttered something to the effect that he didn't know as he ever did.
“You don't know! Yes, you do know, too. Speak up, why don't you? Don't sit there like a ship's figgerhead, starin' at nothin'. You know it's craziness as well's I do. For God sakes, say somethin'! TALK!”
Mr. Hamilton talked—to this extent:
“Hush, Shadrach,” he faltered. “Don't be profane.”
“Profane! Pup-pup-profane! You set there and—and—Oh, jumpin', creepin' Judas! I—I—” Language—even his language—failed to express his feelings and he waved his fists and sputtered. Baxter seized the opportunity.
“Before you make your decision, gentlemen,” he said, “I hope you will consider the situation carefully. The girl is only seven years old; she has no relations anywhere, so far as we know. If you decline the trust a guardian will have to be appointed by the courts, I suppose. Who that guardian will be, or what will become of the poor child I'm sure I don't know. And Captain Marcellus was perfectly sane; he knew what he was doing.”
Shadrach interrupted.
“He did!” he shouted. “Well, then, I must say—”
“Just a minute, please, I have a letter here which he wrote at the time he made his will. It is addressed to both of you. Here it is. Shall I read it to you, or had you rather read it yourselves?”
Zoeth answered. “I guess maybe you'd better read it, Judge,” he said. “I don't cal'late Shadrach nor me are capable of readin' much of anything just this minute. You read it. Shadrach, you be still now and listen.”
The Captain opened his mouth and raised a hand. “Be still, Shadrach,” repeated Zoeth. The hand fell. Captain Gould sighed.
“All right, Zoeth,” he said. “I'll keep my batch closed long's I can. Heave ahead, Judge.”
The letter was a long one, covering several sheets of foolscap. It began:
To Shadrach, Gould and Zoeth Hamilton, my old partners and friends.
DEAR SHAD AND ZOETH:
I am writing this to you because I have known you pretty much all my life and you are the only real friends I have got in this world.
“I was his friend, or I tried to be,” commented Baxter, interrupting his reading; “but he considered you two, and always spoke of you, as his oldest and nearest friends. He has often told me that he knew he could depend on you. Now listen.”
The letter went on to state that the writer realized his health was no longer good, that he was likely to die at any time and was quite reconciled.
I should be glad to go [Captain Hall had written], if it was not for one thing. Since my wife was took from me I care precious little for life and the sooner it ends the better. That is the way I look at it. But I have a stepdaughter, Mary Augusta Lathrop, and for her sake I must stick to the ship as long as I can. I have not been the right kind of father to her. I have tried, but I don't seem to know how and I guess likely I was too old to learn. When I go she won't have a relation to look out for her. That has troubled me a lot and I have thought about it more than a little, I can tell you. And so I have decided to leave her in your care. I am hoping you will take charge of her and bring her up to be a good girl and a good woman, same as her mother was before her. I know you two will be just the ones for the job.
“Jumpin' fire!” broke in Shadrach, the irrepressible.
“Hush, Shadrach,” continued Mr. Hamilton. “Go on, Judge.”
Baxter continued his reading. The letter told of the will, of the property, whatever it might be, left in trust for the child, and of the writer's desire that it might be used, when turned into money, for her education. There were two pages of rambling references to stocks and investments, the very vagueness of these references proving the weakening shrewdness and lack of business acumen of Captain Hall in his later years. Then came this:
When this first comes to you I know you will both feel you are not fitted to take charge of my girl. You will say that neither of you has had any children of his own and you have not got experience in that line. But I have thought it over and I know I am right. I couldn't find better pilots afloat or ashore. Shadrach has been to sea and commanded vessels and is used to giving orders and having them carried out. He sailed mate with me for a good many voyages and was my partner ashore. I know him from truck to keelson. He is honest and able and can handle any craft. He will keep the girl on the course she ought to sail in her schooling and such and see she does not get on the rocks or take to cruising in bad company. Zoeth has had the land training. He is a pious man and as good outside the church as he is in, which is not always the case according to my experience. He has the name all up and down the Cape of being a square, honest storekeeper. He will look out for Mary's religious bringing up and learn her how to keep straight and think square. You are both of you different from each other in most ways but you are each of you honest and straight in his own way. I don't leave Mary in the care of one but in the charge of both. I know I am right.
“He said that very thing to me a good many times,” put in the Judge. “He seemed to feel that the very fact of your being men of different training and habits of thought made the combination ideal. Between you, so he seemed to think, the girl could not help but grow up as she should. I am almost through; there is a little more.”
I want you fellows to do this for my sake. I know you will, after you have thought it over. You and I have been through good times and bad together. We have made money and we have seen it go faster than it came. Shad has seen his savings taken away from him, partly because I trusted where he did not, and he never spoke a word of complaint nor found a mite of fault. Zoeth has borne my greatest trouble with me and though his share was far away bigger than mine, he kept me from breaking under it. I have not seen as much of you lately as I used to see, but that was my fault. Not my fault exactly, maybe, but my misfortune. I have not been the man I was and seeing you made me realize it. That is why I have not been to South Harniss and why I acted so queer when you came here. I was sort of ashamed, I guess. You remember when the old Hall and Company firm started business there were four of us who agreed to stick by each other through foul weather and fair till we died. One of that four broke his promise and pretty nigh wrecked us all, as he did wreck the firm. Now I am asking you two to stick by me and mine. I am trusting and believing that you are going to do it as I write this. When you read it I shan't be on hand. But, if I am where I can see and hear I shall still be believing you will do this last favor for your old messmate.
MARCELLUS.
Judge Baxter folded the sheets of foolscap and laid them on the table. Then he took off his spectacles and wiped them with his handkerchief.
“Well, gentlemen?” he said, after a moment.
Captain Gould drew a long breath.
“I don't think it's well,” he observed. “I think it's about as sick as it can be, and I cal'late Zoeth feels the same; eh, Zoeth?”
Mr. Hamilton did not answer. He neither spoke nor moved.
“Of course,” said the lawyer, “it is not necessary that you make up your minds this instant. You will probably wish a few days to think the matter over in and then you can let me know what you decide. You have heard the letter and I have explained the situation. Are there any questions you would like to ask?”
Shadrach shook his head.
“No, not far's I'm concerned,” he said. “My mind is made up now. I did think there wasn't anything I wouldn't do for Marcellus. And I would have done anything in reason. But this ain't reason—it's what I called it in the beginnin', craziness. Me and Zoeth can't go crazy for anybody.”
“Then you decline?”
“Yes, sir; I'm mighty sorry but of course we can't do such a thing. Me and Zoeth, one of us a bach all his life, and t'other one a—a widower for twenty years, for us to take a child to bring up! My soul and body! Havin' hung on to the heft of our senses so far, course we decline! We can't do nothin' else.”
“And you, Mr. Hamilton?”
Zoeth appeared to hesitate. Then he asked:
“What sort of a girl is she?”
“Mary-'Gusta? She's a bright child, and a well-behaved one, generally speaking. Rather old for her years, and a little—well, peculiar. That isn't strange, considering the life she has led since her mother's death. But she is a good girl and a pretty little thing. I like her; so does my wife.”
“That was her at the cemetery, wasn't it? She was with that Hobbs woman?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so. Shadrach and I met her when we was over here two years ago. I thought the one at the graveyard was her. Poor little critter! Where is she now; at the house—at Marcellus's?”
“Yes; that is, I suppose she is.”
“Do you—do you cal'late we could see her if we went there now?”
“Yes, I am sure you could.”
Zoeth rose.
“Come on, Shadrach,” he said, “let's go.”
The Captain stared at him.
“Go?” he repeated. “Where? Home, do you mean?”
“No, not yet. I mean over to Marcellus's to see that little girl.”
“Zoeth Hamilton! Do you mean to tell me—What do you want to see her for? Do you want to make it harder for her and for us and for all hands? What good is seein' her goin' to do? Ain't it twice as easy to say no now and be done with it?”
“I suppose likely 'twould be, but it wouldn't be right Marcellus asked us to do this thing for him and—”
“Jumpin' Judas! ASKED us! Do you mean to say you're thinkin' of doin' what he asked? Are you loony, too? Are you—”
“Shh, Shadrach! He asked us, as a last favor, to take charge of his girl. I feel as you do that we can't do it, 'tain't sensible nor possible for us to do it, but—”
“There ain't any buts.”
“But the very least we can do is go and see her and talk to her.”
“What for? So we'll feel meaner and more sneaky when we HAVE to say no? I shan't go to see her.”
“All right. Then I shall. You can wait here for me till I come back.”
“Hold on, Zoeth! Hold on! Don't—”
But Mr. Hamilton was at the door and did not turn back. Judge Baxter, who was following him, spoke.
“Sit right here, Captain,” he said. “Make yourself as comfortable as you can. We shan't be long.”
For an instant Shadrach remained where he was. Then he, too, sprang to his feet. He overtook the lawyer just as the latter reached the side door.
“Hello, Captain,” exclaimed Baxter, “changed your mind?”
“Changed nothin'. Zoeth's makin' a fool of himself and I know it, but he ain't goin' to be a fool ALL by himself. I've seen him try it afore and 'tain't safe.”
“What do you mean?”
The Captain grunted scornfully.
“I mean there's safety in numbers, whether it's the number of fools or anything else,” he said. “One idiot's a risky proposition, but two or three in a bunch can watch each other. Come on, Judge, and be the third.”
The white house on Phinney's Hill looked desolate and mournful when the buggy containing Judge Baxter and his two companions drove into the yard. The wagon belonging to Mr. Hallett, the undertaker, was at the front door, and Hallett and his assistant were loading in the folding chairs. Mr. Hallett was whistling a popular melody, but, somehow or other, the music only emphasized the lonesomeness. There is little cheer in an undertaker's whistle.
Captain Gould, acting under the Judge's orders, piloted his horse up the driveway and into the back yard. The animal was made fast to the back fence and the three men alighted from the buggy and walked up to the side door of the house.
“Say, Judge,” whispered the Captain, as they halted by the step, “you don't cal'late I can find out who loaded up that music-box chair on me, do you? If I could meet that feller for two or three minutes I might feel more reconciled at bein' fool enough to come over here.”
Mrs. Hobbs answered the knock at the door—she invited them in. When told that they had come to see Mary-'Gusta she sniffed.
“She's in her room,” she said, rather sharply. “She hadn't ought to be let out, but of course if you want to see her, Judge Baxter, I presume likely she'll have to be. I'll go fetch her.”
“Wait a minute, Mrs. Hobbs,” said Baxter. “What's the matter? Has the child been behaving badly?”
Mrs. Hobbs' lean fingers clinched. “Behavin' badly!” she repeated. “I should say she had! I never was so mortified in my life. And at her own father's funeral, too!”
“What has she done?”
“Done? She—” Mrs. Hobbs hesitated, glanced at Captain Shadrach, and left her sentence unfinished. “Never mind what she done,” she went on. “I can't tell you now; I declare I'd be ashamed to. I'll go get her.”
She marched from the room. Zoeth rubbed his forehead.
“She seems sort of put out, don't she,” he observed, mildly.
Baxter nodded. “Susan Hobbs has the reputation of getting 'put out' pretty often,” he said. “She has a temper and it isn't a long one.”
“Has she been takin' care of Marcellus's girl?” asked Zoeth.
“Yes. As much care as the child has had.”
Captain Shad snorted. It was evident that the housekeeper's manner had not impressed him favorably.
“Humph!” he said. “I'd hate to have her take care of me, judgin' by the way she looked just now. Say,” hopefully, “do you suppose SHE was the one fixed that chair?”
They heard Mrs. Hobbs on the floor above, shouting:
“Mary-'Gusta! Mary-'Gusta! Where are you? Answer me this minute!”
“Don't seem to be in that room she was talkin' about,” grumbled Shadrach. “Tut! Tut! What a voice that is! Got a rasp to it like a rusty saw.”
Mrs. Hobbs was heard descending the stairs. Her face, when she reentered the sitting-room, was red and she looked more “put out” than ever.
“She ain't there,” she answered, angrily. “She's gone.”
“Gone?” repeated Zoeth and Shadrach in chorus.
“Gone?” repeated the Judge. “Do you mean she's run away?”
“No, no! She ain't run away—not for good; she knows better than that. She's sneaked off and hid, I suppose. But I know where she is. I'll have her here in a minute.”
She was hurrying out again, but the Captain detained her.
“Wait!” he commanded. “What's that you say? You know where she is?”
“Yes, or I can guess. Nine chances to one she's out in that barn.”
“In the barn? What's she doin' there—playin' horse?”
“No, no. She's hidin' in the carriage room. Seems as if the child was possessed to get out in that dusty place and perch herself in the old carryall. She calls it her playhouse and you'd think 'twas Heaven the way she loves to stay there. But today of all days! And with her best clothes on! And after I expressly told her—”
“Yes, yes; all right. Humph! Well, Zoeth, what do you say? Shall we go to Heaven and hunt for her? Maybe 'twill be the only chance some of us'll get, you can't tell,” with a wink at Baxter.
“Hush, Shadrach! How you do talk!” protested the shocked Mr. Hamilton.
“Let's go out to the barn and find the young-one ourselves,” said the Captain. “Seems the simplest thing to do, don't it?”
Mrs. Hobbs interrupted.
“You don't need to go at all,” she declared. “I'll get her and bring her here. Perhaps she ain't there, anyway.”
“Well, if she ain't there we can come back again. Come on, boys.”
He led the way to the door. The housekeeper would have accompanied them, but he prevented her doing so.
“Don't you trouble yourself, ma'am,” he said. “We'll find her. I'm older'n I used to be, but I ain't so blind but what I can locate a barn without a spyglass.”
“It won't be any trouble,” protested the lady.
“I know, but it might be. We'll go alone.”
When the three were in the back yard, and the discomfited housekeeper was watching them from the door, he added:
“I don't know why that woman rubs my fur the wrong way, but she does. Isaiah Chase says he don't like mosquitoes 'cause they get on his nerves. I never thought I wore my nerves on the back of my neck, which is where Isaiah gets skeeter-bit mostly, but anyhow, wherever they be, that Hobbs woman bothers 'em. There's the barn, ain't it? Don't look very heavenly, but it may seem that way after a spell in t'other place. Now where's the carriage room?”
The door of the carriage room was open, and they entered. A buggy and the muslin draped surrey were there, but no living creature was in sight. They listened, but heard nothing.
“Mary! Mary-'Gusta!” called Baxter. “Are you here?”
No answer. And then, from beneath the cover of the surrey, appeared a fat tortoise-shell cat, who jumped lightly to the floor, yawned, stretched, and blinked suspiciously at the visitors.
“Humph!” grunted Captain Shadrach. “There's one stowaway, anyhow. Maybe there's another; I've had 'em come aboard in pairs.”
The Judge walked over to the surrey, and raised the cover. From behind it came a frightened little squeal.
“Oh, there you are!” said Baxter. “Mary-'Gusta, is that you?”
There was a rustle, a sob, and then a timid voice said, chokingly, “Yes, sir.”
“Come out,” said the Judge, kindly. “Come out; here are some friends who want to meet you.”
Another sob and then: “I—I don't want to.”
“Oh, yes, you do. We won't hurt you. We only want to see you and talk with you, that's all. Come, that's a good girl.”
“I—I ain't a good girl.”
“Never mind. We want to see you, anyway. I guess you're not very bad.”
“Yes, I—I am. Is—is Mrs. Hobbs there?”
“No. Come now, please.”
A moment's wait, then, from beneath the cover, appeared a small foot and leg, the latter covered by a black stocking. The foot wiggled about, feeling for the step. It found it, the cover was thrown aside and Mary-'Gusta appeared, a pathetic little figure, with rumpled hair and tear-stained cheeks. Rose and Rosette, the two dolls, were hugged in her arms.
Judge Baxter patted her on the head. Zoeth and Shadrach looked solemn and ill at ease. Mary-'Gusta looked at the floor and sniffed dolefully.
“Mary-'Gusta,” said the Judge, “these two gentlemen are old friends of your father's and,” with a pardonable stretching of the truth, “they have come all the way from South Harniss to meet you. Now you must shake hands with them. They like little girls.”
Mary-'Gusta obediently moved forward, shifted Rosette to the arm clasping Rose, and extended a hand. Slowly she raised her eyes, saw Mr. Hamilton's mild, gentle face and then, beside it, the face of Captain Shadrach Gould. With a cry she dropped both dolls, ran back to the surrey and fumbled frantically with the dust cover.
Baxter, surprised and puzzled, ran after her and prevented her climbing into the carriage.
“Why, Mary-'Gusta,” he demanded, “what is the matter?”
The child struggled and then, bursting into a storm of sobs, hid her face in the dust cover.
“I—I didn't mean to,” she sobbed, wildly. “I didn't mean to. Honest I didn't. I—I didn't know. I didn't mean to. Please don't let him. PLEASE!”
The Judge held her close and did his best to calm her.
“There, there, child,” he said. “No one's going to hurt you.”
“Yes—yes, they are. Mrs. Hobbs said she shouldn't wonder if he knocked my—my head right off.”
“Knocked your head off! Who?”
“Him.”
She raised her hand and pointed a shaking finger straight at Captain Shadrach.
All three of her hearers were surprised, of course, but in the case of the Captain himself amazement was coupled with righteous indignation.
“Wha-what?” he stammered. “Who said so? What kind of talk's that? Said I was goin' to knock your head off? I was?”
Baxter laughed. “No, no, Mary-'Gusta,” he said; “you're mistaken. Mrs. Hobbs couldn't have said any such thing. You're mistaken, dear.”
“No, I ain't,” with another sob; “she did say so. She said he would knock my head—ah—ah—off and—and put me in jail, too. And I didn't mean to do it; honest, truly I didn't.”
The Judge looked at his companions and shook his head as if the conundrum was beyond his guessing. Captain Shad groaned.
“By fire!” he ejaculated. “All hands have gone loony, young-ones and all. And,” with conviction, “I'm on the road myself.”
Zoeth Hamilton stepped forward and held out his hands.
“Come here, dearie,” he said, gently; “come here and tell me all about it. Neither me nor the Cap'n's goin' to hurt you a mite. We like little girls, both of us do. Now you come and tell me about it.”
Mary-'Gusta's sobs ceased. She looked at the speaker doubtfully.
“Come, don't be scared,” begged Zoeth. “We're goin' to be good friends to you. We knew your father and he thought everything of us. You ain't goin' to be afraid of folks that was your Pa's chums. You come here and let's talk it over.”
Slowly Mary-'Gusta crossed the room. Zoeth sat down upon an empty box near the door and lifted the girl to his knee.
“Now you ain't afraid of me, be you?” he asked quietly.
Mary-'Gusta shook her head, but her big eyes were fixed upon Captain Shadrach's face.
“No-o,” she faltered. “I—I guess I ain't. But you wasn't the one I did it to. It was him.”
Judging by the Captain's expression his conviction that all hands, himself included, had lost their reason was momentarily growing firmer.
“ME?” he gasped. “You done somethin' to me and I—well, by Judas, this is—”
“Hush, Shadrach! What was it you done, Mary, that made you afraid of Cap'n Gould? Tell me. I won't hurt you and I won't let anybody else.”
“YOU won't let—Zoeth Hamilton, I swan, I—”
“Be still, Shadrach, for mercy sakes! Now, what was it, dearie?”
Mary-'Gusta hesitated. Then she buried her face in Mr. Hamilton's jacket and sobbed a confession.
“I—I made it go,” she cried. “I—I broke the—the catch—and it was wound up and—and it went off. But I didn't know. I didn't mean—”
“There, there, course you didn't. We know you didn't. What was it that went off?”
“The—the music chair. It was in the corner and Mr. Hallett took it and—and I couldn't say anything 'cause Mrs. Hobbs said I mustn't speak a word at the funeral. And—and he set in it and it played and—Oh, don't let him put me in jail! Please don't.”
Another burst of tears. Mary-'Gusta clung tightly to the Hamilton jacket. Judge Baxter looked as if a light had suddenly broken upon the darkness of his mind.
“I see,” he said. “You were responsible for the 'Campbells.' I see.”
Shadrach drew a long breath.
“Whew!” he whistled. “So she was the one. Well, I swan!”
Zoeth stroked the child's hair.
“That's all right, dearie,” he said. “Now don't you worry about that. We didn't know who did it, but now we do and it's all right. We know you didn't mean to.”
“Won't—won't he knock my head off?”
“No, no, course he won't. Tell her so, Shadrach.”
Captain Shadrach pulled at his beard. Then he burst into a laugh.
“I won't hurt you for nothin', sis,” he said, heartily. “It's all right and don't you fret about it. Accidents will happen even in the best regulated—er—funerals; though,” with a broad grin, “I hope another one like that'll never happen to ME. Now don't you cry any more.”
Mary-'Gusta raised her head and regarded him steadily.
“Won't I be put in jail?” she asked, more hopefully.
“Indeed you won't. I never put anybody in jail in my life; though,” with an emphatic nod, “there's some folks ought to go there for frightenin' children out of their senses. Did that Mrs. Hobbs tell you I was goin' to—what was it?—knock your head off and all the rest?”
“Yes, sir, she did.”
“Well, she's a—she's what she is. What else did she say to you?”
“She—she said I was a bad, wicked child and she hoped I'd be sent to the—the orphans' home. If she was to have the care of me, she said, she'd make me walk a chalk or know why. And she sent me to my room and said I couldn't have any supper.”
Zoeth and the Captain looked at each other. Baxter frowned.
“On the very day of her father's funeral,” he muttered.
“Can't I have any supper?” begged Mary-'Gusta. “I'm awful hungry; I didn't want much dinner.”
Zoeth nodded. His tone, when he spoke, was not so mild as was usual with him.
“You shall have your supper,” he said.
“And—and must I go to the orphans' home?”
No one answered at once. Zoeth and Captain Shad again looked at each other and the Judge looked at them both.
“Must I?” repeated Mary-'Gusta. “I—I don't want to. I'd rather die, I guess, and go to Heaven, same as Mother and Father. But Mrs. Hobbs says they don't have any dolls nor cats in Heaven, so I don't know's I'd want to go there.”
Baxter walked to the window and looked out. Captain Shadrach reached into his pocket, produced a crumpled handkerchief, and blew his nose violently. Zoeth stroked the child's hair.
“Mary-'Gusta,” he said, after a moment, “how would you like to go over to South Harniss and—and see me and Cap'n Gould a little while? Just make us a visit, you know. Think you'd like that?”
The Captain started. “Good land, Zoeth!” he exclaimed. “Be careful what you're sayin'.”
“I ain't sayin' anything definite, Shadrach. I know how you feel about it. I just wanted to see how she felt herself, that's all. Think you'd like that, Mary-'Gusta?”
Mary-'Gusta thought it over. “I guess maybe I would,” she said, “if I could take my dolls and David. I wouldn't want to leave David. Mrs. Hobbs don't like cats.”
And at that moment Mrs. Hobbs herself appeared in the doorway of the carriage room. She saw the child and her eyes snapped.
“So she was here,” she said. “I thought as much. Mary-'Gusta, what did you run away from that room for? Didn't I forbid you leavin' it? She's been a bad girl, Judge Baxter,” she added, “and I can't make her behave. I try my best, but I'm sure I don't know what to do.”
Captain Shadrach thrust both hands into his pockets.
“I tell you what to do,” he said, sharply. “You go into the house and put some of her things into a valise or satchel or somethin'. And hurry up as fast as you can.”
Mrs. Hobbs was astonished.
“Put 'em in a satchel?” she repeated. “What for? Where's she goin'?”
“She's goin' home along with me and Zoeth. And she's got to start inside of half an hour. You hurry.”
“But—but—”
“There ain't any 'buts'; haven't got time for 'em.”
Mr. Hamilton regarded his friend with an odd expression.
“Shadrach,” he asked, “do you realize what you're sayin'?”
“Who's sayin'? You said it, I didn't. Besides takin' her home with us today don't mean nothin', does it? A visit won't hurt us. Visits don't bind anybody to anything. Jumpin' Judas! I guess we've got room enough in the house to have one young-one come visitin' for—for a couple of days, if we want to. What are you makin' such a fuss about? Here you,” turning to the housekeeper, “ain't you gone yet? You've got just thirteen minutes to get that satchel ready.”
Mrs. Hobbs departed, outraged dignity in her walk and manner.
“Am—am I goin'?” faltered Mary-'Gusta.
Zoeth nodded.
“Yes,” he said, “you're goin'. Unless, of course, you'd rather stay here.”
“No, I'd rather go, if—if I can take David and the dolls. Can I?”
“Can she, Shadrach?”
Captain Shad, who was pacing the floor, turned savagely.
“What do you ask me that for?” he demanded. “This is your doin's, 'tain't mine. You said it first, didn't you? Yes, yes, let her take the dolls and cats—and cows and pigs, too, if she wants to. Jumpin' fire! What do I care? If a feller's bound to be a fool, a little live stock more or less don't make him any bigger one. . . . Land sakes! I believe she's goin' to cry again. Don't do that! What's the matter now?”
The tears were starting once more in the girl's eyes.
“I—I don't think you want me,” she stammered. “If you did you—you wouldn't talk so.”
The Captain was greatly taken aback. He hesitated, tugged at his beard, and then, walking over to the child, took her by the hand.
“Don't you mind the way I talk, Mary-'Gusta,” he said. “I'm liable to talk 'most any way, but I don't mean nothin' by it. I like little girls, same as Zoeth said. And I ain't mad about the jig-tune chair, neither. Say,” with a sudden inspiration; “here we are settin' here and one of our passengers has left the dock. We got to find that cat, ain't we? What did you say his name was—Solomon?”
“No, sir; David.”
“David, sure enough. If I'd been up in Scripture the way Zoeth—Mr. Hamilton, here—is, I wouldn't have made that mistake, would I? Come on, let's you and me go find David and break the news to him. Say, he'll be some surprised to find he's booked for a foreign v'yage, won't he? Come on, we'll go find him.”
Mary-'Gusta slowly rose from Mr. Hamilton's knee. She regarded the Captain steadily for a moment; then, hand in hand, they left the barn together.
Judge Baxter whistled. “Well!” he exclaimed. “I must say I didn't expect this.”
Zoeth smiled. “There ain't many better men than Shadrach Gould,” he observed, quietly.