“Um; yes, I know; Marcellus had confidence in a good many things, the stock market included.  However, what is to be will be and we all have to take chances, as the feller that was just married said when he tackled his wife’s first mince pie.  You get those guardian papers, whatever they are, made out, and Zoeth and me’ll sign ’em.  As for the competent part—­well,” with a chuckle, “that child’s pretty competent herself.  I have a notion that, take it five or six years from now, it’ll be her that’ll be bringin’ us up in the way we should go.  I feel a good deal as if I was signin’ on for a long voyage with the chances that I’d finish mate instead of skipper.”

“Say, Judge,” he added, just before leaving for home, “there’s one thing more I’d like to say.  ’Most everybody thinks Marcellus left his stepdaughter a consider’ble sight of money, don’t they?”

“Why, yes; I suppose they do.”

“All right, let ’em think so.  ’Twill give ’em somethin’ to talk about.  They’ll be guessin’ how rich the child is instead of markin’ off in the almanac the days afore Zoeth and me head for the poorhouse.”

“Humph!  I see.  You don’t care to have it known that you and your partner are adopting and supporting her purely from motives of kindness and generosity.”

“Pooh! pooh!  No generosity about it.  Besides, Marcellus was kind and generous enough to us in the old days.  Pity if we couldn’t take our trick at the wheel now.”

The Judge smiled.  “You’re a good deal more willing to take that trick than you were when I saw you last, Captain Shad,” he observed.  “You seem to have changed your mind completely.”

The Captain grinned.  “Well, yes, I have,” he admitted.  “Maybe ’tain’t so big a change as you think; I have a habit of blowin’ up a squall when I’m gettin’ ready to calm down.  But, anyway, that young-one would change anybody’s mind.  She’s different from any girl of her age ever I saw.  She’s pretty as a little picture and sweet and wholesome as a—­as a summer sweet apple.  She don’t pester, and she don’t tease, and she don’t lie—­no, sir, not even when I’d consider layin’ the course a p’int or two from the truth a justifiable proceedin’.  She’s got inside my vest, somehow or ’nother, and I did think I was consider’ble of a hard-shell.  She’s all right, Mary-’Gusta is.  I’m about ready to say ‘Thank you’ to Marcellus.”

And so it was settled, and Mary-’Gusta Lathrop was no longer a visitor, but a permanent member of the odd household at South Harniss.  She was delighted when she heard the news, although, characteristically, she said very little beyond confiding to her two “uncles” that she was going to be a good girl and not take David into the parlor again.  The remainder of her “things” and belongings were sent over by the Judge and, in due time, the guardianship papers were signed.

“There!” exclaimed Zoeth, laying down the pen.  “That settles it, I cal’late.  Now, Mary-’Gusta, you’re our little girl, mine and your Uncle Shad’s, for good and all.”