“I—­I guess maybe I’d better stay here,” she said.  “I ought to see to Minnehaha’s sore throat.  I’m goin’ to put some red flannel ’round it; Mr. Chase says he cal’lates he knows where there is some.  Good-by, Uncle Zoeth.  Good-by—­er—­Cap’n Gould.”

The partners did not converse on the way to the store.  Zoeth made an attempt, but Shadrach refused to answer.  He was silent and, for him, grumpy all the forenoon.  Another fortnight passed before the subject of the decision which must, sooner or later, be given Judge Baxter was mentioned by either of the pair.

CHAPTER VI

Mary-’Gusta was growing accustomed to the life in the South Harniss home.  She found it a great improvement over that which she had known on Phinney’s Hill at Ostable.  There was no Mrs. Hobbs to nag and find fault, there were no lonely meals, no scoldings when stockings were torn or face and hands soiled.  And as a playground the beach was a wonderland.

She and Jimmie Bacheldor picked up shells, built sand forts, skipped flat stones along the surface of the water at high tide, and picked up scallops and an occasional quahaug at low water.  Jimmie was, generally speaking, a satisfactory playmate, although he usually insisted upon having his own way and, when they got into trouble because of this insistence, did not permit adherence to the truth to obstruct the path to a complete alibi.  Mary-’Gusta, who had been taught by the beloved Mrs. Bailey to consider lying a deadly sin, regarded her companion’s lapses with alarmed disapproval, but she was too loyal to contradict and more than once endured reproof when the fault was not hers.  She had had few playmates in her short life and this one, though far from perfect, was a joy.

They explored the house together and found in the big attic and the stuffy, shut-up best parlor the most fascinating of treasure hordes.  The former, with its rows of old trunks and sea chests under the low eaves, the queer garments and discarded hats hanging on the nails, the dusky corners where the light from the little windows scarcely penetrated even on a sunny May afternoon, was the girl’s especial Paradise.  Here she came to play by herself on rainy days or when she did not care for company.  Her love of make-believe and romance had free scope here and with no Jimmie to laugh and make fun of her imaginings she pretended to her heart’s content.  Different parts of that garret gradually, in her mind, came to have names of their own.  In the bright spot, under the north window, was Home, where she and the dolls and David—­when the cat could be coaxed from prowlings and mouse hunts to quiet and slumber—­lived and dined and entertained and were ill or well or happy or frightened, according to the day’s imaginative happenings.  Sometimes Home was a castle, sometimes a Swiss Family Robinson cave, sometimes a store which transacted business after the fashion of Hamilton and Company.  And in other more or less fixed spots and corners were Europe, to which the family voyaged occasionally; Niagara Falls—­Mrs. Bailey’s honeymoon had been spent at the real Niagara; the King’s palace; the den of the wicked witch; Sherwood Forest; and Jordan, Marsh and Company’s store in Boston.