Mrs. Hobbs answered the knock at the door—she invited them in. When told that they had come to see Mary-'Gusta she sniffed.
“She's in her room,” she said, rather sharply. “She hadn't ought to be let out, but of course if you want to see her, Judge Baxter, I presume likely she'll have to be. I'll go fetch her.”
“Wait a minute, Mrs. Hobbs,” said Baxter. “What's the matter? Has the child been behaving badly?”
Mrs. Hobbs' lean fingers clinched. “Behavin' badly!” she repeated. “I should say she had! I never was so mortified in my life. And at her own father's funeral, too!”
“What has she done?”
“Done? She—” Mrs. Hobbs hesitated, glanced at Captain Shadrach, and left her sentence unfinished. “Never mind what she done,” she went on. “I can't tell you now; I declare I'd be ashamed to. I'll go get her.”
She marched from the room. Zoeth rubbed his forehead.
“She seems sort of put out, don't she,” he observed, mildly.
Baxter nodded. “Susan Hobbs has the reputation of getting 'put out' pretty often,” he said. “She has a temper and it isn't a long one.”
“Has she been takin' care of Marcellus's girl?” asked Zoeth.