



Produced by Donald Lainson; David Widger





MARY-'GUSTA

By Joseph C. Lincoln




MARY-'GUSTA




CHAPTER I


On the twentieth day of April in the year 19--, the people--that is, a
majority of the grown people of Ostable--were talking of Marcellus Hall
and Mary-'Gusta.

A part of this statement is not surprising. The average person, no
matter how humble or obscure, is pretty certain to be talked about on
the day of his funeral, and Marcellus was to be buried that afternoon.
Moreover, Marcellus had been neither humble nor obscure; also, he had
been talked about a good deal during the fifty-nine years of his sojourn
on this planet. So it is not at all surprising that he should be talked
about now, when that sojourn was ended. But for all Ostable--yes, and a
large part of South Harniss--to be engaged in speculation concerning the
future of Mary-'Gusta was surprising, for, prior to Marcellus's death,
very few outside of the Hall household had given her or her future a
thought.

On this day, however, whenever or wherever the name of Marcellus Hall
was mentioned, after the disposition of Marcellus's own bones had been
discussed and those of his family skeleton disinterred and articulated,
the conversation, in at least eight cases out of ten, resolved itself
into a guessing contest, having as its problem this query:

"What's goin' to become of that child?"

For example:

Mr. Bethuel Sparrow, local newsgatherer for the Ostable Enterprise,
seated before his desk in the editorial sanctum, was writing an obituary
for next week's paper, under the following head:

"A Prominent Citizen Passes Away."

An ordinary man would probably have written "Dies"; but Mr. Sparrow,
being a young and very new reporter for a rural weekly, wrote "Passes
Away" as more elegant and less shocking to the reader.

It is much more soothing and refined to pass away than to die--unless
one happens to be the person most concerned, in which case, perhaps, it
may make little difference.

"The Angel of Death," wrote Mr. Sparrow, "passed through our midst on
Tuesday last and called to his reward Captain Marcellus Hall, one of
Ostable's most well-known and influential residents."

A slight exaggeration here. Marcellus had lived in Ostable but five
years altogether and, during the last three, had taken absolutely
no part in town affairs--political, religious or social. However,
"influential" is a good word and usual in obituaries, so Bethuel let it
stand. He continued:

"Captain Hall's sudden death--"

Erasure of "death" and substitution of "demise."

Then:

"--Was a shock to the community at large. It happened on account of--"
More erasures and substitutions. "--It was the result of his taking cold
owing to exposure during the heavy southeast rains of week before last
which developed into pneumonia. He grew rapidly worse and passed away at
3.06 P.M. on Tuesday, leaving a vacancy in our midst which will be hard
to fill, if at all. Although Captain Hall had resided in Ostable but a
comparatively short period, he was well-known and respected, both as a
man and--"

Here, invention failing, Mr. Sparrow called for assistance.

"Hey, Perce," he hailed, addressing his companion, Mr. Percy Clark, who
was busy setting type: "What's a good word to use here? I say Marcellus
was respected both as a man--and somethin' else."

"Hey?" queried Percy, absently, scanning the eight point case. "What
d'ye say?"

"I asked you what would be a good thing to go with'man'?"

"Hey? I don't know. Woman, I guess."

"Aw, cut it out. Never mind, I got it:

"--As a man and a citizen. Captain Hall was fifty-nine years of age at
the time of his demise. He was born in South Harniss and followed the
sea until 1871, when he founded the firm of Hall and Company, which was
for some years the leading dealer in fresh and salt fish in this section
of the state. When the firm--

"I say, Perce! 'Twouldn't do to say Marcellus failed in business, would
it? Might seem like hintin' at that stuff about his sister and the rest
of it. Might get us into trouble, eh?"

"Humph! I don't know who with. Everybody's talkin' about it, anyway. Up
to the boardin' house they've been talking about mighty little else ever
since he died."

"I know, but talk's one thing and print's another. I'm goin' to leave it
out.

"When the firm went out of business in 1879, Captain Hall followed the
sea again, commanding the ships Faraway, Fair Wind, and Treasure Seeker,
and the bark Apollo. Later he retired from the sea and has not been
active in the same or otherwise since. In 1894 he married Augusta Bangs
Lathrop, widow of the late Reverend Charles Lathrop, formerly pastor of
the Congregational Church in this town. Captain Hall had been residing
in his native town, South Harniss, but after his marriage he took up
his residence in Ostable, purchasing the residence formerly owned by
Elnathan Phinney on Phinney's Hill, where he lived until his lamented
demise. Mrs. Hall passed away in 1896. The sudden removal of Captain
Hall from our midst leaves a stepdaughter, Mary Augusta Lathrop, aged
seven. The--"

Here Mr. Sparrow's train of thought collided with the obstruction which
was derailing many similar trains in Ostable and South Harniss.

"I say, Perce," he observed "what's goin' to become of that kid of
Marcellus's--his wife's, I mean? Marcellus didn't have any relations, as
far as anybody knows, and neither did his wife. Who's goin' to take care
of Mary-'Gusta?"

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."

"Yes, it rests entirely with them."

"And suppose they say no, what will become of the child then?"

"I can't tell you. Captain Hall seemed pretty certain they wouldn't say
no."

"Humph! There! Now you look a little more presentable. Have you got a
clean handkerchief? Well, that's an unexpected miracle; I don't know how
you happened to think of it. When are you going to speak with them about
it?"

"Today, if they come to the funeral, as I suppose they will."

"I shall be in a fidget until I know whether they say yes or no. And
whichever they say I shall keep on fidgeting until I see what happens
after that. Poor little Mary-'Gusta! I wonder what WILL become of her."

The Judge shook his head.


Over the road between South Harniss and Ostable a buggy drawn by an aged
white horse was moving slowly. On the buggy's seat were two men, Captain
Shadrach Gould and Zoeth Hamilton. Captain Gould, big, stout, and
bearded, was driving. Mr. Hamilton, small, thin, smooth-faced and
white-haired, was beside him. Both were obviously dressed in their
Sunday clothes, Captain Shadrach's blue, Mr. Hamilton's black. Each wore
an uncomfortably high collar and the shoes of each had been laboriously
polished. Their faces, utterly unlike in most respects, were very
solemn.

"Ah hum!" sighed Mr. Hamilton.

Captain Shadrach snorted impatiently.

"For the land sakes don't do that again, Zoeth," he protested. "That's
the tenth 'Ah hum' you've cast loose in a mile. I know we're bound to a
funeral but there ain't no need of tollin' the bell all the way. I don't
like it and I don't think Marcellus would neither, if he could hear
you."

"Perhaps he can hear us, Shadrach," suggested his companion, mildly.
"Perhaps he's here with us now; who can tell?"

"Humph! Well, if he is then I KNOW he don't like it. Marcellus never
made any fuss whatever happened, and