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.”