Mary-'Gusta looked at the floor.
“Yes, sir,” she faltered.
“So? I kind of had an idea there might be. Who was it?”
Again the look and then: “I—I ain't goin' to tell.”
Con laughed once more. “You bet she ain't,” he exclaimed. “She can't. The whole yarn's a lie. Don't pay no attention to it, Pop.”
Shadrach turned sharply in his direction. “I'M payin' attention to it,” he snapped, “and that's enough. So you ain't goin' to tell, Mary-'Gusta, eh? Remember now, if you do tell it'll prove your story's true and David'll come out on top. Think it over.”
Evidently Mary-'Gusta was thinking it over. Her eyes filled with tears, but she shook her head.
The Captain looked down at her. “Keepin' mum, eh?” he said. “Well, that's all right. I cal'late we're pretty good guessers, some of us, anyway. Jim,” with a sudden look straight at the youngest member of his neighbor's family, who was fidgeting with his spoon and acting remarkably nervous, “what have you got to say? Have a good time in that parlor playin' pirates, did you?”
Jimmie gasped. The suddenness of the attack knocked his defenses flat. He gurgled, stammered, and then broke into a wail of distress.
“I—I didn't mean to,” he sobbed, wildly. “'Twas her. She said do it; I never. I—I—”