s. She--"

"Never mind about Mrs. Banks," interrupted the Marshal. "Confine
yourself to the evidence in this case, an' nothing else."

"Well, as I was saying, Pa was peaceful and quiet, cracking nuts on the
flatiron. He got hold of a tough hickor'-nut, and it wouldn't crack very
easy. So he had to hit it as hard as he could. Somehow he missed it, and
smack went the hammer right on his thumb. My goodness! You'd ought to
have heard him yell. He hopped up and began dancing around the kitchen,
sucking his thumb and trying to swear with his mouth full. Ma
says,--this is all she said,--Ma says: 'Did you hit your finger,
Lucius?' Pa let fly the hammer. It didn't miss her head a foot. Then he
fired the flatiron at her feet. Ma screamed and started to run to'ards
the back stairs. Pa knocked over the kitchen table trying to head her
off. She stumbled and fell down on her hands and knees. Then while he
was looking for something to beat her brains out with, she got up and
run into the pantry and locked the door.

"Juliet was squealing her head off. Pa picked up the hammer and started
to'ard her. Juliet made a break for the stairs, and Pa let go with the
hammer. He missed her, but he knocked a big hole in the ceiling. Then he
grabbed the tea-kettle off the stove and threw it at the cat. He got
some of the boiling water on his legs, I guess, because he grabbed 'em
in his hands and yelled like an Indian. He swore he'd kill everybody in
the house. So I beat it. He was hunting for the flatiron and the hammer,
and I was outside before he noticed me. I grabbed this old red
tablecloth as I went out and put it around me. When I saw a light in
your store, Mr. Lamson, I knowed Mr. Crow would be here, so up I came.
Now, what are you going to do about it, Mr. Crow?"

The Marshal pondered. "You say your Ma's safely locked in the pantry?"

"She was--unless he busted the door down."

"And Julie is up in the attic?"

"Yes, and she's probably dead by this time. There ain't any lock on the
attic door."

"Well, seems to me they're perfectly safe till morning. Julie could jump
out of the attic window if the worst come to the worst. The thing that's
worryin' me is you. Where are you going to sleep tonight, Elfie?"

"Right here in Mr. Lamson's rocking-chair," said the girl promptly.

"I'll take her up to my house," said Alf Reesling. "She can crawl in
with my daughter Queenie."

"That's out of the question," said Harry Squires, arising and lo