“But I know David wasn't the cat that did it. I KNOW he wasn't”
“Oh, you know, do you. Hm! you do seem pretty sartin, that's a fact. How do you know?”
The girl looked at him. “Please, Cap'n Gould,” she said, “I—I'd rather tell you over to Mr. Bacheldor's. That's what I wanted to ask you; won't you please go right over to Mr. Bacheldor's with me? I—I'll tell you how I know when we're there.”
Captain Shadrach was more puzzled than ever. “You want me to go to Ab Bacheldor's with you?” he repeated. “You want to tell me somethin' over there? Why not tell me here?”
“'Cause—'cause Mr. Bacheldor thinks David did it and he'll kill him. He said he would. I want HIM to know David wasn't the one. And if, if you're there when he knows, he'll know YOU know he knows and he won't dast shoot at David any more. Please come, Cap'n Gould. Please, right away.”
Shadrach tugged at his beard. “Humph!” he muttered. “There's more 'knows' in that than there is knots in a snarled fish line. You want me as a witness, nigh's I can make out. Is that it?”
“Yes, sir. Will you go with me right off?”
“Right off, eh? Can't it wait till after supper?”
“I—I don't want any supper. PLEASE!”
So supper was postponed, in spite of Isaiah's grumblings, and the Captain and Mary-'Gusta started forthwith for the home of their nearest neighbor. Mr. Chase, his curiosity aroused, would have asked a dozen questions, but Mary-'Gusta would neither answer nor permit Shadrach to do so.