“Yes, I—I am. Is—is Mrs. Hobbs there?”
“No. Come now, please.”
A moment's wait, then, from beneath the cover, appeared a small foot and leg, the latter covered by a black stocking. The foot wiggled about, feeling for the step. It found it, the cover was thrown aside and Mary-'Gusta appeared, a pathetic little figure, with rumpled hair and tear-stained cheeks. Rose and Rosette, the two dolls, were hugged in her arms.
Judge Baxter patted her on the head. Zoeth and Shadrach looked solemn and ill at ease. Mary-'Gusta looked at the floor and sniffed dolefully.
“Mary-'Gusta,” said the Judge, “these two gentlemen are old friends of your father's and,” with a pardonable stretching of the truth, “they have come all the way from South Harniss to meet you. Now you must shake hands with them. They like little girls.”
Mary-'Gusta obediently moved forward, shifted Rosette to the arm clasping Rose, and extended a hand. Slowly she raised her eyes, saw Mr. Hamilton's mild, gentle face and then, beside it, the face of Captain Shadrach Gould. With a cry she dropped both dolls, ran back to the surrey and fumbled frantically with the dust cover.
Baxter, surprised and puzzled, ran after her and prevented her climbing into the carriage.
“Why, Mary-'Gusta,” he demanded, “what is the matter?”
The child struggled and then, bursting into a storm of sobs, hid her face in the dust cover.
“I—I didn't mean to,” she sobbed, wildly. “I didn't mean to. Honest I didn't. I—I didn't know. I didn't mean to. Please don't let him. PLEASE!”