“SILENCE!” shouted the light keeper again. The domestic squabble broke off in the middle and some irreverent giggles from other sections of the circle subsided. Captain Jethro's indignant gaze swept the group. Primmie said afterward, “You couldn't see him glare at you, but you could FEEL him doin' it.” When the stillness was absolute the captain asked, “Where is your fiddle, Abel?”
“Eh?” Mr. Harding paused and cleared his throat. “Why,” he stammered, “it's—it's to home. Er—er—that's where I keep it, you know.”
“Humph!” Captain Jethro's scorn was withering. “And home is eleven mile away or such matter. How much good is your bein' able to play on it goin' to do us when 'tain't here for you to play on?”
There were discreet snickers from the dimness. Mrs. Hardin's voice was audible, saying, “There, I told you so, foolhead.” The captain once more ordered and obtained silence.
“We've had enough of this,” he growled. “This ain't a play-actin' show to laugh at. If we can't behave accordin' as we should we'll give it up. Marietta says she can't get into contact with the sperit world without music. Would it do if we was to sing somethin', Marietta?”
Miss Hoag faltered that she didn't know's she hardly believed 'twould. “I always HAVE had some sort of instrumental music, Cap'n Jethro. Don't seem to me's if I could hardly get along without it.”
The captain grunted again. “Can't anybody play ANYTHING?” he demanded. “Anything that's within hailin' distance, I mean.”
Another silent interval. And then a voice said, timidly, “I can play the mouth organ.”
It was Primmie's voice and as she was sitting next Zach Bloomer, who was next Galusha Bangs, the unexpectedness of it made the latter jump. Miss Phipps, next in line on Galusha's left, jumped likewise.
“Primmie,” she said, sharply, “don't be silly.”