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?”