a feller's bound to be a fool, a little live stock
more or less don't make him any bigger one. . . . Land sakes! I believe
she's goin' to cry again. Don't do that! What's the matter now?"

The tears were starting once more in the girl's eyes.

"I--I don't think you want me," she stammered. "If you did you--you
wouldn't talk so."

The Captain was greatly taken aback. He hesitated, tugged at his beard,
and then, walking over to the child, took her by the hand.

"Don't you mind the way I talk, Mary-'Gusta," he said. "I'm liable to
talk 'most any way, but I don't mean nothin' by it. I like little girls,
same as Zoeth said. And I ain't mad about the jig-tune chair, neither.
Say," with a sudden inspiration; "here we are settin' here and one of
our passengers has left the dock. We got to find that cat, ain't we?
What did you say his name was--Solomon?"

"No, sir; David."

"David, sure enough. If I'd been up in Scripture the way Zoeth--Mr.
Hamilton, here--is, I wouldn't have made that mistake, would I? Come on,
let's you and me go find David and break the news to him. Say, he'll be
some surprised to find he's booked for a foreign v'yage, won't he? Come
on, we'll go find him."

Mary-'Gusta slowly rose from Mr. Hamilton's knee. She regarded the
Captain steadily for a moment; then, hand in hand, they left the barn
together.

Judge Baxter whistled. "Well!" he exclaimed. "I must say I didn't expect
this."

Zoeth smiled. "There ain't many better men than Shadrach Gould," he
observed, quietly.

CHAPTER IV

Mary-'Gusta, even though she lives to be a very old woman, will never
forget that ride to South Harniss. It was the longest ride she had ever
taken, and that of itself would have made it unforgettable. Then, too,
she was going visiting, and she had never been visiting before. Also,
she was leaving Mrs. Hobbs and, for a time at least, that lady could not
remind her of her queerness and badness. More than all, she was going on
a journey, a real journey, like a grown-up or a person in a story, and
her family--David and the dolls--were journeying with her. What the
journey might mean to her, or to what sort of place she was going--these
questions did not trouble her in the least. Childlike, she was quite
satisfied with the wonderful present, and to the future, even the
dreaded orphans' home, she gave not a thought.

Perched on the buggy seat, squeezed in between Captain Shad and Mr.
Hamilton, she gazed wide-eyed