Percy shook his head. “Don't know,” he answered. “That's what all hands are askin'. I presume likely she'll be looked after. Marcellus left plenty of money, didn't he? And kids with money can generally find guardians.”
“Yup, I guess that's so. Still, whoever gets her will have their hands full. She's the most old-fashioned, queerest young-one ever I saw.”
So much for Mr. Sparrow and his fellow laborer for the Enterprise. Now to listen for a moment to Judge Baxter, who led the legal profession of Ostable; and to Mrs. Baxter who, so common report affirmed, led the Judge. The pair were upstairs in the Baxter house, dressing for the funeral.
“Daniel,” declared Mrs. Baxter, “it's the queerest thing I ever heard of. You say they don't know—either of them—and the child herself doesn't know, either.”
“That's it, Ophelia. No one knows except myself. Captain Hall read the letter to me and put it in my charge a year ago.”
“Well, I must say!”
“Yes, I know, I said it at the time, and I've been saying it to myself ever since. It doesn't mean anything; that is, it is not binding legally, of course. It's absolutely unbusinesslike and unpractical. Simply a letter, asking them, as old friends, to do this thing. Whether they will or not the Almighty only knows.”
“Well, Daniel, I must say I shouldn't have thought you, as his lawyer, would have let him do such a thing. Of course, I don't know either of them very well, but, from what little I've heard, I should say they know as much about what they would be supposed to do as—as you do about tying a necktie. For mercy sakes let me fix it! The knot is supposed to be under your chin, not under your ear as if you were going to be hung.”
The Judge meekly elevated the chin and his wife pulled the tie into place.
“And so,” she said, “they can say yes or no just as they like.”