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.