"Then--then, what--Zoeth," turning wildly to Mr. Hamilton, who still
sat, pale and speechless, in his chair; "Zoeth," he demanded, "did you
ever hear such craziness in your life? Did you ever HEAR such stuff?"

Zoeth merely shook his head. His silence appeared to add to his friend's
excitement.

"Did you?" he roared.

Zoeth muttered something to the effect that he didn't know as he ever
did.

"You don't know! Yes, you do know, too. Speak up, why don't you? Don't
sit there like a ship's figgerhead, starin' at nothin'. You know it's
craziness as well's I do. For God sakes, say somethin'! TALK!"

Mr. Hamilton talked--to this extent:

"Hush, Shadrach," he faltered. "Don't be profane."

"Profane! Pup-pup-profane! You set there and--and--Oh, jumpin', creepin'
Judas! I--I--" Language--even his language--failed to express his
feelings and he waved his fists and sputtered. Baxter seized the
opportunity.

"Before you make your decision, gentlemen," he said, "I hope you will
consider the situation carefully. The girl is only seven years old; she
has no relations anywhere, so far as we know. If you decline the trust
a guardian will have to be appointed by the courts, I suppose. Who that
guardian will be, or what will become of the poor child I'm sure I don't