THANKFUL'S INHERITANCE

By Joseph C. Lincoln

CHAPTER I

The road from Wellmouth Centre to East Wellmouth is not a good one; evenin dry weather and daylight it is not that. For the first two miles itwinds and twists its sandy way over bare hills, with cranberryswamps and marshy ponds in the hollows between. Then it enters upon athree-mile stretch bordered with scrubby pines and bayberry thickets, climbing at last a final hill to emerge upon the bluff with the oceanat its foot. And, fringing that bluff and clustering thickest in thelowlands just beyond, is the village of East Wellmouth, which must onno account be confused with South Wellmouth, or North Wellmouth, or WestWellmouth, or even Wellmouth Port. 

On a bright sunny summer day the East Wellmouth road is a hard one totravel. At nine o'clock of an evening in March, with a howling galeblowing and rain pouring in torrents, traveling it is an experience. Winnie S. , who drives the East Wellmouth depot-wagon, had undergone theexperience several times in the course of his professional career, buteach time he vowed vehemently that he would not repeat it; he would"heave up" his job first. 

He was vowing it now. Perched on the edge of the depot wagon's frontseat, the reins leading from his clenched fists through the slit in the"boot" to the rings on the collar of General Jackson, the aged horse, heexpressed his opinion of the road, the night, and the job. 

"By Judas priest!" declared Winnie S. --his name was Winfield ScottHancock Holt, but no resident of East Wellmouth called him anything butWinnie S. --"by Judas priest! If this ain't enough to make a feller giveup tryin' to earn a livin', then I don't know! Tell him he can't shipaboard a schooner 'cause goin' to sea's a dog's life, and then put himon a job like this! Dog's life! Judas priest! What kind of a life'sTHIS, I want to know?"

From the curtain depths of the depot-wagon behind him a voice answered, a woman's voice:

"Judgin' by the amount of dampness in it I should think you might callit a duck's life, " it suggested. 

Winnie S. Accepted this pleasantry with a grunt. "I 'most wish I wasa duck, " he declared, savagely. "Then I could set in three inches ofice-water and like it, maybe. Now what's the matter with you?" This lasta roar to the horse, whose splashy progress along the gullied road hadsuddenly ceased. "What's the matter with you now?" repeated Winnie. "What have you done; come to anchor? Git dap!"

But General Jackson refused to "git dap. " Jerks at the reins only causedhim to stamp and evince an inclination to turn around. Go ahead he wouldnot. 

"Judas priest!" exclaimed the driver. "I do believe the critter'sdrowndin'! Somethin's wrong. I've got to get out and see, I s'pose. Setright where you be, ladies. I'll be back in a minute, " adding, as hetook a lighted lantern from beneath the seat and pulled aside the heavyboot preparatory to alighting, "unless I get in over my head, whichain't so dummed unlikely as it sounds. "

Lantern in hand he clambered clumsily from beneath the boot anddisappeared. Inside the vehicle was blackness, dense, damp and profound. 

"Auntie, " said a second feminine voice, "Auntie, what DO you suppose hashappened?"

"I don't know, Emily. I'm prepared for 'most anything by this time. Maybe we've landed on Mount Ararat. I feel as if I'd been afloat forforty days and nights. Land sakes alive!" as another gust shot and beatits accompanying cloudburst through and between the carriage curtains;"right in my face and eyes! I don't wonder that boy wished he was aduck. I'd like to be a fish--or a mermaid. I couldn't be much wetter ifI was either one, and I'd have gills so I could breathe under water. ISUPPOSE mermaids have gills, I don't know. "

Emily laughed. "Aunt Thankful, " she declared, "I believe you would findsomething funny in a case of smallpox. "

"Maybe I should; I never tried. 'Twouldn't be much harder than to befunny with--with rain-water on the brain. I'm so disgusted with myselfI don't know what to do. The idea of me, daughter and granddaughter ofseafarin' folks that studied the weather all their lives, not knowin'enough to stay to home when it looked as much like a storm as it didthis mornin'. And draggin' you into it, too. We could have come tomorrowor next day just as well, but no, nothin' to do but I must start today'cause I'd planned to. This comes of figgerin' to profit by what folksleave to you in wills. Talk about dead men's shoes! Live men's rubberboots would be worth more to you and me this minute. SUCH a cruise asthis has been!"

It had been a hard trip, certainly, and the amount of water throughwhich they had traveled the latter part of it almost justified its beingcalled a "cruise. " Old Captain Abner Barnes, skipper, for the twentyyears before his death, of the coasting schooner T. I. Smalley, had, during his life-long seafaring, never made a much rougher voyage, allthings considered, than that upon which his last will and testament hadsent his niece and her young companion. 

Captain Abner, a widower, had, when he died, left his house and land atEast Wellmouth to his niece by marriage, Mrs. Thankful Barnes. Thankful, whose husband, Eben Barnes, was lost at sea the year after theirmarriage, had been living with and acting as housekeeper for an elderlywoman named Pearson at South Middleboro. She, Thankful, had nevervisited her East Wellmouth inheritance. For four years after sheinherited it she received the small rent paid her by the tenant, oneLaban Eldredge. His name was all she knew concerning him. Then he diedand for the next eight months the house stood empty. And then came onemore death, that of old Mrs. Pearson, the lady for whom Thankful had"kept house. "

Left alone and without present employment, the Widow Barnes consideredwhat she should do next. And, thus considering, the desire to visit andinspect her East Wellmouth property grew and strengthened. She thoughtmore and more concerning it. It was hers, she could do what she pleasedwith it, and she began to formulate vague ideas as to what she mightlike to do. She kept these ideas to herself, but she spoke to EmilyHowes concerning the possibilities of a journey to East Wellmouth. 

Emily was Mrs. Barnes' favorite cousin, although only a second cousin. Her mother, Sarah Cahoon, Thankful's own cousin, had married a man namedHowes. Emily was the only child by this marriage. But later there wasanother marriage, this time to a person named Hobbs, and there were fivelittle Hobbses. Papa Hobbs worked occasionally, but not often. His wifeand Emily worked all the time. The latter had been teaching schoolin Middleboro, but now it was spring vacation. So when Aunt Thankfulsuggested the Cape Cod tour of inspection Emily gladly agreed to go. The Hobbs house was not a haven of joy, especially to Mr. Hobbs'stepdaughter, and almost any change was likely to be an agreeable one. 

They had left South Middleboro that afternoon. The rain began whenthe train reached West Ostable. At Bayport it had become a storm. AtWellmouth Centre it was a gale and a miniature flood. And now, shutup in the back part of the depot-wagon, with the roaring wind andsplashing, beating rain outside, Thankful's references to fish and ducksand mermaids, even to Mount Ararat, seemed to Emily quite appropriate. They had planned to spend the night at the East Wellmouth hotel andvisit the Barnes' property in the morning. But it was five long miles tothat hotel from the Wellmouth Centre station. Their progress so far hadbeen slow enough. Now they had stopped altogether. 

A flash of light showed above the top of the carriage boot. 

"Mercy on us!" cried Aunt Thankful. "Is that lightnin'? All we need tomake this complete is to be struck by lightnin'. No, 'tain't lightnin', it's just the lantern. Our pilot's comin' back, I guess likely. Well, heain't been washed away, that's one comfort. "

Winnie S. , holding the lantern in his hand, reappeared beneath the boot. Raindrops sparkled on his eyebrows, his nose and the point of his chin. 

"Judas priest!" he gasped. "If this ain't--"

"You needn't say it. We'll agree with you, " interrupted Mrs. Barnes, hastily. "Is anything the matter?"

The driver's reply was in the form of elaborate sarcasm. 

"Oh, no!" he drawled, "there wasn't nothin' the matter. Just a fewmillion pines blowed across the road and the breechin' busted and thefor'ard wheel about ready to come off, that's all. Maybe there's a fewother things I didn't notice, but that's all I see. "

"Humph! Well, they'll do for a spell. How's the weather, any worse?"

"Worse? No! they ain't no worse made. Looks as if 'twas breakin' alittle over to west'ard, fur's that goes. But how in the nation we'llever fetch East Wellmouth, I don't know. Git dap! GIT DAP! Have yougrowed fast?"

General Jackson pulled one foot after the other from the mud and thewagon rocked and floundered as its pilot steered it past the fallentrees. For the next twenty minutes no one spoke. Then Winnie S. Breatheda sigh of thankfulness. 

"Well, we're out of that stretch of woods, anyhow, " he declared. "And it'tain't rainin' so hard, nuther. Cal'late we can get to civilization ifthat breechin' holds and the pesky wheel don't come off. How are you, inaft there; tolerable snug?"

Emily said nothing. Aunt Thankful chuckled at the word. 

"Snug!" she repeated. "My, yes! If this water was salt we'd be as snugas a couple of pickled mackerel. How far off is this civilization you'retalkin' about?"

"Well, our hotel where you're bound is a good two mile, butthere's--Judas priest! there goes that breechin' again!"

There was another halt while the breeching underwent temporary repairs. The wind blew as hard as ever, but the rain had almost stopped. A fewminutes later it stopped altogether. 

"There!" declared Winnie S. "The fust mile's gone. I don't know's Ihadn't ought to stop--"

Aunt Thankful interrupted. "Stop!" she cried. "For mercy sakes, don'tstop anywheres unless you have to. We've done nothin' but stop eversince we started. Go on as far as you can while this--this machine ofyours is wound up. "

But that was not destined to be far. From beneath the forward end ofthe depot-wagon sounded a most alarming creak, a long-drawn, threateninggroan. Winnie S. Uttered his favorite exclamation. 

"Judas priest!" he shouted. "There goes that wheel! I've, been expectin'it. "

He tugged at the right hand rein. General Jackson, who, having beenbrought up in a seafaring community, had learned to answer his helm, swerved sharply from the road. Emily screamed faintly. 

"Where are you goin'?" demanded Mrs. Barnes. 

The driver did not answer. The groan from beneath the carriage was moreominously threatening than ever. And suddenly the threat was fulfilled. The depot-wagon jerked on for a few feet and then, with a crack, settleddown to port in a most alarming fashion. Winnie S. Settled down with it, still holding tight to the reins and roaring commands to General Jacksonat the top of his lungs. 

"Whoa!" he hollered. "Whoa! Stand still! Stand still where you be!Whoa!"

General Jackson stood still. Generally speaking he needed but one hintto do that. His commander climbed out, or fell out, from beneath theboot. The ground upon which he fell was damp but firm. 

"Whoa!" he roared again. Then scrambling to his feet he sprang towardthe wagon, which, the forward wheel detached and flat beneath it, was resting on the remaining three in a fashion which promised totalcapsizing at any moment. 

"Be you hurt? Be you hurt?" demanded Winnie S. 

From inside, the tightly drawn curtains there came a variety of sounds, screams, exclamations, and grunts as of someone gasping for breath. 

"Be you hurt?" yelled the frantic Mr. Holt. 

It was the voice of the younger passenger which first made coherentreply. 

"No, " it panted. "No, I--I think I'm not hurt. But Aunt Thankful--Oh, Auntie, are you--"

Aunt Thankful herself interrupted. Her voice was vigorous enough, but itsounded as if smothered beneath a heavy weight. 

"No, no, " she gasped. "I--I'm all right. I'm all right. Or I guess Ishall be when you get--off of me. "

"Judas priest!" cried Winnie S. , and sprang to the scene. It was theyounger woman, Emily, whom he rescued first. She, being on the upperside of the tilted wagon, had slid pell-mell along the seat down uponthe body of her companion. Mrs. Barnes was beneath and getting her outwas a harder task. However, it was accomplished at last. 

"Mercy on us!" exclaimed the lady, as her companions assisted her torise. "Mercy on us! I feel like a pancake. I never knew you weighed somuch, Emily Howes. Well, that's all right and no bones broke. Whereare we now? Why--why, that's a house, I do believe! We're in somebody'syard. "

They were, that was plain even on a night as dark as this. Behind them, bordering the stretch of mud and puddles which they had just left, wasthe silhouette of a dilapidated picket fence; and in front loomed theshadowy shapes of buildings. 

"We're in somebody's yard, " repeated Thankful. "And there's a house, as sure as I live! Well, I never thought I'd be so grateful just at thebare sight of one. I'd begun to think I never would see a house again. If we'd run afoul of a ship I shouldn't have been so surprised. Come on, Emily!"

She seized her companion by the hand and led the way toward the nearestand largest building. Winnie S. , having retrieved and relighted theoverturned lantern, was inspecting the wreck of the depot-wagon. It wassome minutes before he noticed that his passengers had disappeared. Thenhe set up a shout. 

"Hi! Where you be?" he shouted. 

"Here, " was the answer. "Here, by the front door. "

"Hey? Oh, all right. Stay where you be. I'll be there pretty soon. "

The "pretty soon" was not very soon. Mrs. Barnes began to lose patience. 

"I ain't goin' to roost on this step till mornin', " she declared. "I'mgoin' inside. Ain't that a bell handle on your side of the door, Emily?Give it a pull, for mercy sakes!"

"But, Auntie--"

"Give it a pull, I tell you! I don't know who lives here and I don'tcare. If 'twas the President of the United States he'd have to turn outand let us in this night. Here, let me do it!"

She gave the glass knob a sharp jerk. From within sounded the jingle ofan old-fashioned spring bell. 

"There!" she exclaimed, "I guess they'll hear that. Anyway, I'll give'em one more for good measure. "

She jerked the bell again. The peal died away in a series of lesseningtinkles, but there was no other sound from within. 

"They must be sound sleepers, " whispered Emily, after a moment. 

"They must be dead, " declared Thankful. "There's been smashin' andcrackin' and hollerin' enough to wake up anybody that wa'n't buried. Howthat wind does blow! I--Hello! here comes that man at last. About time, I should say!"

Winnie S. Appeared, bearing the lantern. 

"What you doin'?" he asked. "There ain't no use ringin' that bell. Nobody'll hear it. "

Thankful, who had just given the bell a third pull, took her hand fromthe knob. 

"Why not?" she demanded. "It makes noise enough. I should think a gravenimage would hear it. What is this, a home for deaf people?"

Winnie S. Grinned. "'Tain't nobody's home, not now, " he said. "Thishouse is empty. Ain't nobody lived in it for 'most a year. "

The two women looked at each other. Mrs. Barnes drew along breath. 

"Well, " she observed, "if this ain't the last straw. Such a cruise aswe've had; and finally be shipwrecked right in front of a house and findit's an empty one! Don't talk to ME! Well, " sharply, "what shall we donext?"

The driver shook his head. 

"Dummed if I know!" he answered. "The old wagon can't go another yard. I--I cal'late you folks'll have to stay here for a spell. "

"Stay? Where'll we stay; out here in the middle of this howlin'wilderness?"

"I guess so. Unless you want to walk the rest of the way, same's I'mcal'latin' to. I'm goin' to unharness the horse and put him under theshed here and then hoof it over to the village and get somebody to comeand help. You can come along if you want to, but it'll be a tougherv'yage than the one we've come through. "

"How far off is this--this village of yours?"

"Oh, about a mile and a half!"

"A mile and a half! And it's beginnin' to rain again! Emily, I don'tknow how you feel, but if the horse can wait under the shed untilsomebody comes I guess we can. I say let's do it. "

Emily nodded. "Of course, Auntie, " she said, emphatically. "We couldn'twalk a mile and a half in a storm like this. Of course we must wait. Where is the shed?"

Winnie S. Led the way to the shed. It was a ramshackle affair, openon one side. General Jackson, tethered to a rusty ring at the back, whinnied a welcome. 

The driver, holding the lantern aloft, looked about him. His twopassengers looked also. 

"Well, " observed Thankful, "this may have been a shed once, but it'smore like a sieve now. There's more leaks to the roof than there isboards, enough sight. However, any port in a storm, and we've got thestorm, sartin. All right, Mister What's-your-name, we'll wait. "

Winnie S. Turned away. Then he turned back again. 

"Maybe I'd better leave you the lantern, " he said, doubtfully. "Iguess likely I could get along without it and--and 'twould make it moresociable for you. "

He put the lantern down on the earth floor beside them and strode offinto the dark. Mrs. Barnes called after him. 

"Ain't there any way of gettin' into that house?" she asked. "It acts asif 'twas goin' to storm hard as ever and this shed ain't the most--whatdid you call it?--sociable place in creation, in spite of the lantern. If we could only get inside that house--"

Winnie S. Interrupted. They could not see him, but there was a queernote in his voice. 

"Get inside!" he repeated. "Get into THAT house this time of night!Well--well, maybe you could, but I wouldn't do it, not for nothin'. Youbetter wait in the shed. I'll be back soon as ever I can. "

They heard him splashing along the road. Then a gust of wind and atorrent of rain beating upon the leaky roof drowned all other sounds. Emily turned to her companion. 

"Auntie, " she said, "if you and I were superstitious we might thinkall this, all that we've been through, was what people call a sign, awarning. That is what ever so many South Middleboro people would say. "

"Humph! if I believed in signs I'd have noticed the weather signs aforewe started. Those are all the 'signs' I believe in and I ought to haveknown better than to risk comin' when it looked so threatenin'. I can'tforgive myself for that. However, we did come, and here we are--wherever'here' is. Now what in the world did that man mean by sayin' we betternot try to get into that house? I don't care what he meant. Give me thatlantern. "

"Auntie, where are you going?"

"I'm goin' to take an observation of those windows. Nine chances to onethey ain't all locked, and if there's one open you and I can crawlinto it. I wish we could boost the horse in, too, poor thing, butself-preservation is the first law of nature and if he's liable toperish it's no reason we should. I'm goin' to get into that house ifsuch a thing's possible. "

"But, Auntie--"

"Don't say another word. I'm responsible for your bein' here this night, Emily Howes. You wouldn't have come if I hadn't coaxed you into it. Andyou shan't die of pneumonia or--or drownin' if I can help it. I'm goin'to have a look at those doors and windows. Don't be scared. I'll beback in a jiffy. Goodness me, what a puddle! Well, if you hear me holleryou'll know I'm goin' under for the third time, so come quick. Heregoes!"

Lantern in hand, she splashed out into the wet, windy darkness. 

CHAPTER II

Miss Howes, left to share with General Jackson the "sociability" of theshed, watched that lantern with faint hope and strong anxiety. Shesaw it bobbing like a gigantic firefly about the walls of the house, stopping here and there and then hurrying on. Soon it passed around thefurther corner and disappeared altogether. The wind howled, the rainpoured, General Jackson stamped and splashed, and Emily shivered. 

At last, just as the watcher had begun to think some serious accidenthad happened to her courageous relative and was considering starting ona relief expedition, the lantern reappeared. 

"Emily!" screamed Mrs. Barnes. "Emily! Come here!"

Emily came, fighting her way against the wind. She found her cousinstanding by the corner of the house. 

"I've got it, " cried Aunt Thankful, panting but triumphant. "I'vegot it. One of the windows on the other side is unfastened, just as Isuspicioned it might be. I think one of us can get in if t'other helps. "

She seized the arm of her fellow castaway and together they turned thecorner, struggled on for a short distance and then stopped. 

"This is the window, " gasped the widow. "Here, right abreast of us. See!"

She held up the lantern. The window was "abreast" of them, but also itwas a trifle high. 

"It ain't fastened, " shouted Thankful; she was obliged to shout in orderto be heard. "I could push it open a little mite from the bottom, butI couldn't reach to get it up all the way. You can if I steady you, Iguess. Here! Put your foot on that box. I lugged it around from the backyard on purpose. "

Standing on an empty and shaky cranberry crate and held there by thestrong arm of Mrs. Barnes, Emily managed to push up the lower halfof the window. The moment she let go of it, however, it fell with atremendous bang. 

"One of the old-fashioned kind, you might know, " declared Thankful. "Noweights nor nothin'. We'll have to prop it up with a stick. You waitwhere you are and I'll go get one. There's what's left of a woodpile outback here; that's where that crate came from. "

She hastened away and was back in a moment with a stout stick. Emilyraised the window once more and placed the stick beneath it. 

"There!" panted her companion. "We've got a gangway anyhow. Next thingis to get aboard. You come down and give me a boost. "

But Emily declined. 

"Of course I shan't do any such thing, " she declared, indignantly. "Ican climb through that window a great deal easier than you can, Auntie. I'm ever so much younger. Just give me a push, that's all. "

Her cousin demurred. "I hate to have you do it, " she said. "For anybodythat ain't any too strong or well you've been through enough tonight. Well, if you're so set on it. I presume likely you could make a betterjob of climbin' than I could. It ain't my age that bothers me though, it's my weight. All ready? Up you go! Humph! It's a mercy there ain'tanybody lookin' on. . . . There! all right, are you?"

Emily's head appeared framed by the window sash. "Yes, " she panted. "I--I think I'm all right. At least I'm through that window. Now whatshall I do?"

"Take this lantern and go to one of the doors and see if you canunfasten it. Try the back door; that's the most liable to be only boltedand hooked. The front one's probably locked with a key. "

The lantern and its bearer disappeared. Mrs. Barnes plodded around tothe back door. As she reached it it opened. 

"It was only hooked, " said Emily. "Come in, Auntie. Come in quick!"

Thankful had not waited for the invitation; she was in already. She tookthe lantern from her relative's hand. Then she shut the door behind her. 

"Whew!" she exclaimed. "If it don't seem good to get under cover, realcover! What sort of a place is this, anyhow, Emily?"

"I don't know. I--I've been too frightened to look. I--I feel like a--O, Aunt Thankful, don't you feel like a burglar?"

"Me? A burglar? I feel like a wet dishcloth. I never was so soaked, withmy clothes on, in my life. Hello! I thought this was an empty house. There's a stove and a chair, such as it is. Whoever lived here lastdidn't take away all their furniture. Let's go into the front rooms. "

The first room they entered was evidently the dining-room. It was quitebare of furniture. The next, however, that which Emily had enteredby the window, contained another stove, a ramshackle what-not, and abroken-down, ragged sofa. 

"Oh!" gasped Miss Howes, pointing to the sofa, "see! see! This ISN'T anempty house. Suppose--Oh, SUPPOSE there were people living here! Whatwould they say to us?"

For a moment Thankful was staggered. Then her common-sense came to herrescue. 

"Nonsense!" she said, firmly. "A house with folks livin' in it hassomethin' in the dinin'-room besides dust. Anyhow, it's easy enough tosettle that question. Where's that door lead to?"

She marched across the floor and threw open the door to which she hadpointed. 

"Humph!" she sniffed. "Best front parlor. The whole shebang smells shutup and musty enough, but there's somethin' about a best parlor smellthat would give it away any time. Phew! I can almost smell wax wreathsand hair-cloth, even though they have been took away. No, this is anempty house all right, but I'll make good and sure for your sake, Emily. Ain't there any stairs to this old rattle-trap? Oh, yes, here's thefront hall. Hello! Hello, up there! Hi-i!"

She was shouting up the old-fashioned staircase. Her voice echoed abovewith the unmistakable echo of empty rooms. Only that echo and the howlof the wind and roar of rain answered her. 

She came back to the apartment where she had left her cousin. 

"It's all right, Emily, " she said. "We're the only passengers aboard thederelict. Now let's see if we can't be more comf'table. You set down onthat sofa and rest. I've got an idea in my head. "

The idea evidently involved an examination of the stove, for she openedits rusty door and peered inside. Then, without waiting to answer hercompanion's questions, she hurried out into the kitchen, returning withan armful of shavings and a few sticks of split pine. 

"I noticed that woodbox in the kitchen when I fust come in, " she said. "And 'twa'n't quite empty neither, though that's more or less of amiracle. Matches? Oh, yes, indeed! I never travel without 'em. I've beenso used to lookin' out for myself and other folks that I'm a reg'lar manin some ways. There! now let's see if the draft is rusted up as much asthe stove. "

It was not, apparently, for, with the dampers wide open, the firecrackled and snapped. Also it smoked a little. 

"'Twill get over that pretty soon, " prophesied Mrs. Barnes. "I can stand'most any amount of smoke so long's there's heat with it. Now, Emily, we'll haul that sofa up alongside and you lay down on it and get restedand warm. I'd say get dry, too, but 'twould take a reg'lar blast furnaceto dry a couple of water rats like you and me this night. Perhaps wecan dry the upper layer, though; that'll be some help. Now, mind me! Layright down on that sofa. "

Emily protested. She was no wetter and no more tired than her cousin, she said. Why should she lie down while Aunt Thankful sat up?

"'Cause I tell you to, for one thing, " said the widow, with decision. "And because I'm well and strong and you ain't. When I think of how Igot you, a half invalid, as you might say, to come on this crazy tripI'm so provoked I feel like not speakin' to myself for a week. There!now you LOOK more comf'table, anyhow. If I only had somethin' to putover you, I'd feel better. I wonder if there's an old bed quilt oranything upstairs. I've a good mind to go and see. "

Emily's protest was determined this time. 

"Indeed you shan't!" she cried. "You shan't stir. I wouldn't have you goprowling about this poky old place for anything. Do you suppose I couldstay down here alone knowing that you might be--might be meeting or--orfinding almost anything up there. Sit right down in that chair besideme. Don't you think it is almost time for that driver to be back?"

"Land sakes--no! He's hardly started yet. It's goin' to take a good longspell afore he can wade a mile and a half in such a storm as this andget another horse and wagon and come back again. He'll come by and by. All we've got to do is to stay by this fire and be thankful we've gotit. "

Emily shivered. "I suppose so, " she said. "And I know I am nervous and atrial instead of a help. If you had only been alone--"

"Alone! Heavens to Betey! Do you think I'd like this--this camp-meetin'any better if I was the only one to it. My! Just hear that wind! Hopethese old chimneys are solid. "

"Auntie, what do you suppose that man meant by saying he wouldn't enterthis house at night for anything?"

"Don't know. Perhaps he meant he'd be afraid of bein' arrested. "

"But you don't think we'll be arrested?"

"No, no, of course not. I'd be almost willin' to be arrested if they'ddo it quick. A nice, dry lock-up and somethin' to eat wouldn't be sobad, would it? But no constable but a web-footed one would be out thisnight. Now do as I say--you lay still and give your nerves a rest. "

For a few moments the order was obeyed. Then Miss Rowes said, withanother shiver: "I do believe this is the worst storm I have everexperienced. "

"'Tis pretty bad, that's a fact. Do you know, Emily, if I was a believerin signs such as mentioned a little while ago, I might almost be temptedto believe this storm was one of 'em. About every big change in my lifehas had a storm mixed up with it, comin' at the time it happened orjust afore or just after. I was born, so my mother used to tell me, on astormy night about like this one. And it poured great guns the day I wasmarried. And Eben, my husband, went down with his vessel in a hurricaneoff Hatteras. And when poor Jedediah run off to go gold-diggin' therewas such a snowstorm the next day that I expected to see him plowin' hisway home again. Poor old Jed! I wonder where he is tonight? Let's see;six years ago, that was. I wonder if he's been frozen to death or eat upby polar bears, or what. One thing's sartin, he ain't made his fortuneor he'd have come home to tell me of it. Last words he said to me was, 'I'm a-goin', no matter what you say. And when I come back, loaded downwith money, you'll be glad to see me. '"

Jedediah Cahoon was Mrs. Barnes' only near relative, a brother. Always avisionary, easy-going, impractical little man, he had never been willingto stick at steady employment, but was always chasing rainbows anddepending upon his sister for a home and means of existence. Whenthe Klondike gold fever struck the country he was one of the first tosuccumb to the disease. And, after an argument--violent on his partand determined on Thankful's--he had left South Middleboro andgone--somewhere. From that somewhere he had never returned. 

"Yes, " mused Mrs. Barnes, "those were the last words he said to me. "

"What did you say to him?" asked Emily, drowsily. She had heard thestory often enough, but she asked the question as an aid to keepingawake. 

"Hey? What did I say? Oh, I said my part, I guess. 'When you come back, 'says I, 'it'll be when I send money to you to pay your fare home, and Ishan't do it. I've sewed and washed and cooked for you ever since Ebendied, to say nothin' of goin' out nursin' and housekeepin' to earn moneyto buy somethin' TO cook. Now I'm through. This is my house--or, atany rate, I pay the rent for it. If you leave it to go gold-diggin' youneedn't come back to it. If you do you won't be let in. ' Of course Inever thought he'd go, but he did. Ah hum! I'm afraid I didn't doright. I ought to have realized that he wa'n't really accountable, poor, weak-headed critter!"

Emily's eyes were fast shutting, but she made one more remark. 

"Your life has been a hard one, hasn't it, Auntie, " she said. 

Thankful protested. "Oh, no, no!" she declared. "No harder'n anybodyelse's, I guess likely. This world has more hards than softs for theaverage mortal and I never flattered myself on bein' above the average. But there! How in the nation did I get onto this subject? You andme settin' here on other folks's furniture--or what was furnitureonce--soppin' wet through and half froze, and me talkin' about troublesthat's all dead and done with! What DID get me started? Oh, yes, thestorm. I was just thinkin' how most of the important things in my lifehad had bad weather mixed up with 'em. Come to think of it, it rainedthe day Mrs. Pearson was buried. And her dyin' was what set me tothinkin' of cruisin' down here to East Wellmouth and lookin' at theproperty Uncle Abner left me. I've never laid eyes on that property andI don't even know what the house looks like. I might have asked thatdepot-wagon driver, but I thought 'twas no use tellin' him my privateaffairs, so I said we was bound to the hotel, and let it go at that. If I had asked he might at least have told me where. . . . Hey?Why--why--my land! I never thought of it, but it might be! It might!Emily!"

But Miss Howes' eyes were closed now. In spite of her wet garments andher nervousness concerning their burglarious entry of the empty houseshe had fallen asleep. Thankful did not attempt to wake her. Instead shetiptoed to the kitchen and the woodbox, took from the latter the lastfew slabs of pine wood and, returning, filled the stove to the top. Thenshe sat down in the chair once more. 

For some time she sat there, her hands folded in her lap. Occasionallyshe glanced about the room and her lips moved as if she were talking toherself. Then she rose and peered out of the window. Rain and blacknessand storm were without, but nothing else. She returned to the sofa andstood looking down at the sleeper. Emily stirred a little and shivered. 

That shiver helped to strengthen the fears in Mrs. Barnes' mind. Thegirl was not strong. She had come home from her school duties almostworn out. A trip such as this had been was enough to upset even the mostrobust constitution. She was wet and cold. Sleeping in wet clothes wasalmost sure to bring on the dreaded pneumonia. If only there might besomething in that house, something dry and warm with which to cover her. 

"Emily, " said Thankful, in a low tone. "Emily. "

The sleeper did not stir. Mrs. Barnes took up the lantern. Its flame wasmuch less bright than it had been and the wick sputtered. She held thelantern to her ear and shook it gently. The feeble "swash" that answeredthe shake was not reassuring. The oil was almost gone. 

Plainly if exploring of those upper rooms was to be done it must be doneat once. With one more glance at the occupant of the sofa Mrs. Barnes, lantern in hand, tiptoed from the room, through the barren front halland up the stairs. The stairs creaked abominably. Each creak echoed likethe crack of doom. 

At the top of the stairs was another hall, long and narrow, extendingapparently the whole length of the house. At intervals along this hallwere doors. One after the other Thankful opened them. The first gaveentrance to a closet, with a battered and ancient silk hat and apasteboard box on the shelf. The next opened into a large room, evidently the spare bedroom. It was empty. So was the next and the nextand the next. No furniture of any kind. Thankful's hope of findinga quilt or a wornout blanket, anything which would do to cover hersleeping and shivering relative, grew fainter with the opening of eachdoor. 

There were an astonishing number of rooms and closets. Evidently thishad been a big, commodious and comfortable house in its day. But thatday was long past its sunset. Now the bigness only emphasized thedreariness and desolation. Dampness and spider webs everywhere, cracksin the ceiling, paper peeling from the walls. And around the gables andagainst the dormer-windows of these upper rooms the gale shrieked andhowled and wailed like a drove of banshees. 

The room at the very end of the long hall was a large one. It was atthe back of the house and there were windows on two sides of it. It wasempty like the others, and Mrs. Barnes, reluctantly deciding that herexploration in quest of coverings had been a failure, was about to turnand retrace her steps to the stairs when she noticed another door. 

It was in the corner of the room furthest from the windows and was shuttight. A closet, probably, and all the closets she had inspected sofar had contained nothing but rubbish. However, Thankful was not in thehabit of doing things by halves, so, the feebly sputtering lantern heldin her left hand, she opened the door with the other and looked in. Thenshe uttered an exclamation of joy. 

It was not a closet behind that door, but another room. A small roomwith but one little window, low down below the slope of the ceiling. But this room was to some extent furnished. There was a bed in it, and arocking chair, and one or two pictures hanging crookedly upon the wall. Also, and this was the really important thing, upon that bed was apatchwork comforter. 

Thankful made a dash for that comforter. She set the lantern down uponthe floor and snatched the gayly colored thing from the bed. And, as shedid so, she heard a groan. 

There are always noises in an empty house, especially an old house. Creaks and cracks and rustlings mysterious and unexplainable. When thewind blows these noises are reenforced by a hundred others. In thisparticular house on this particular night there were noises enough, goodness knows. Howls and rattles and moans and shrieks. Every shutterand every shingle seemed to be loose and complaining of the fact. As forgroans--old hinges groan when the wind blows and so do rickety guttersand water pipes. But this groan, or so it seemed to Mrs. Barnes, had adifferent and distinct quality of its own. It sounded--yes, it soundedhuman. 

Thankful dropped the patchwork comforter. 

"Who's that?" she asked, sharply. 

There was no answer. No sounds except those of the storm. Thankfulpicked up the comforter. 

"Humph!" she said aloud--talking to herself was a habit developed duringthe years of housekeeping for deaf old Mrs. Pearson. "Humph! I must begettin' nerves, I guess. "

She began folding the old quilt in order to make it easier to carrydownstairs. And then she heard another groan, or sigh, or combinationof both. It sounded, not outside the window or outside the house, but inthat very room. 

Again Mrs. Barnes dropped the comforter. Also she went out of the room. But she did not go far. Halfway across the floor of the adjoining roomshe stopped and put her foot down, physically and mentally. 

"Fool!" she said, disgustedly. Then, turning on her heel, she marchedback to the little bedroom and picked up the lantern; its flame haddwindled to the feeblest of feeble sparks. 

"Now then, " said Thankful, with determination, "whoever--or--or whateverthing you are that's makin' that noise you might just as well showyourself. If you're hidin' you'd better come out, for I'll find you. "

But no one or no "thing" came out. Thankful waited a moment and thenproceeded to give that room a very thorough looking-over. It was sucha small apartment that the process took but little time. There was nocloset. Except for the one window and the door by which she had entered, the four walls, covered with old-fashioned ugly paper, had no openingsof any kind. There could be no attic or empty space above the ceilingbecause she could hear the rain upon the sloping roof. She looked underthe bed and found nothing but dust. She looked in the bed, even underthe rocking-chair. 

"Well, there!" she muttered. "I said it and I was right. I AM gettin'to be a nervous old fool. I'm glad Emily ain't here to see me. And yet Idid--I swear I did hear somethin'. "

The pictures on the wall by the window caught her eye. She walked overand looked at them. The lantern gave so little light that she couldscarcely see anything, but she managed to make out that one was a dingychromo with a Scriptural subject. The other was a battered "crayonenlargement, " a portrait of a man, a middle-aged man with a chin beard. There was something familiar about the face in the portrait. Something--

Thankful gasped. "Uncle Abner!" she cried. "Why--why--"

Then the lantern flame gave a last feeble sputter and went out. Sheheard the groan again. And in that room, the room she had examined socarefully, so close as to seem almost at her very ear, a faint voicewailed agonizingly, "Oh, Lord!"

Thankful went away. She left the comforter and the lantern upon thefloor and she did not stop to close the door of the little bedroom. Through the black darkness of the long hall she rushed and down thecreaky stairs. Her entrance to the sitting-room was more noisy than herexit had been and Miss Howes stirred upon the sofa and opened her eyes. 

"Auntie!" she cried, sharply. "Aunt Thankful, where are you?"

"I'm--I'm here, Emily. That is, I guess--yes, I'm here. "

"But why is it so dark? Where is the lantern?"

"The lantern?" Mrs. Barnes was trying to speak calmly but, betweenagitation and loss of breath, she found it hard work. "The lantern?Why--it's--it's gone, " she said. 

"Gone? What do you mean? Where has it gone?"

"It's gone--gone out. There wa'n't enough oil in it to last any longer, I suppose. "

"Oh!" Emily sat up. "And you've been sitting here alone in the darkwhile I have been asleep. How dreadful for you! Why didn't you speak tome? Has anything happened? Hasn't that man come back yet?"

It was the last question which Thankful answered. "No. No, he ain't comeback yet, " she said. "But he will pretty soon, I'm sure. He--he will, Emily, don't you fret. "

"Oh, I'm not worried, Auntie. I am too sleepy to worry, I guess. "

"Sleepy! You're not goin' to sleep AGAIN, are you?"

Mrs. Barnes didn't mean to ask this question; certainly she did notmean to ask it with such evident anxiety. Emily noticed the tone andwondered. 

"Why, no, " she said. "I think not. Of course I'm not. But what made youspeak in that way? You're not frightened, are you?"

Thankful made a brave effort. 

"Frightened!" she repeated, stoutly. "What on earth should I befrightened of, I'd like to know?"

"Why, nothing, I hope. "

"I should say not. I--Good heavens above! What's that?"

She started and clutched her companion by the arm. They both listened. 

"I don't hear anything but the storm, " said Emily. "Why, Auntie, you AREfrightened; you're trembling. I do believe there is something. "

Thankful snatched her hand away. 

"There isn't, " she declared. "Of course there isn't. "

"Then why are you so nervous?"

"Me? Nervous! Emily Howes, don't you ever say that to me again. I ain'tnervous and I ain't goin' to be nervous. There's no--no sane reason whyI should be and I shan't. I shan't!"

"But, Auntie, you are. Oh, what is it?"

"Nothin'. Nothin' at all, I tell you. The idea!" with an attempt at alaugh. "The idea of you thinkin' I'm nervous. Young folks like you orrich old women are the only ones who can afford nerves. I ain't eitheryoung nor rich. "

Emily laughed, too. This speech was natural and characteristic. 

"If you were a nervous wreck, " she said, "it would be no wonder, allalone in the dark as you have been in a deserted house like this. Ican't forgive myself for falling asleep. Whose house do you suppose itis?"

Aunt Thankful did not answer. Emily went on. Her short nap had revivedher courage and spirit. 

"Perhaps it is a haunted house, " she said, jokingly. "Every village hasa haunted house, you know. Perhaps that's why the stage-driver warned usnot to go into it. "

To her surprise Mrs. Barnes seemed to take offense at this attempt athumor. 

"Don't talk silly, " she snapped. "If I've lived all these years andbeen as down on spooks and long-haired mediums as I've been, and thento--there--there! Don't let's be idiots altogether. Talk about somethin'else. Talk about that depot-wagon driver and his pesky go-cart that gotus into this mess. There's plenty of things I'd like to say about THEM. "

They talked, in low tones. Conversation there in the dark and under suchcircumstances, was rather difficult. Emily, although she was determinednot to admit it, was growing alarmed for the return of Winnie S. Andhis promised rescue expedition. Aunt Thankful was thinking of the littleback bedroom upstairs. An utter lack of superstition was something uponwhich she had prided herself. But now, as she thought of that room, ofthe portrait on the wall, and what she had heard--

"Listen!" whispered Emily, suddenly. "Listen! I--I thought I heardsomething. "

Mrs. Barnes leaned forward. 

"What? Where? Upstairs?" she asked, breathlessly. 

"No. Out--out there somewhere. " She pointed in the direction of thefront hall. "It sounded as if someone had tried the front door. Hark!There it is again. "

Aunt Thankful rose to her feet. "I heard it, too, " she said. "It'sprobably that driver man come back. I'll go and see. "

"No--no, Auntie, you mustn't. I--I shan't let you. "

"I shall! I shall, I tell you! If I've got any common-sense at all, I ain't goin' to be scared of--Of course it's that driver man. He'swonderin' where we are and he's lookin' for us. I'll go let him in. "

She broke away from Miss Howes' grasp and started for the front hall. The action was a braver one than her cousin realized. If there was onething on earth that Thankful Barnes did not wish to do at that moment, it was to go nearer the stairs landing to the rooms above. 

But she went, and Emily went with her. Cautiously they peered throughthe little windows at the sides of the front door. There was no one insight, and, listening, they heard nothing. 

"I--I guess we was mistaken, Emily, " whispered Thankful. "Let's go backto the fire. "

"But Auntie, I DID hear something. Didn't you?"

"Well, I thought I did, but I guess--Oh, DON'T stay here another minute!I--I shall be hearin' 'most anything if we do. "

They returned to the room they had left. But they had scarcely enteredit when they stopped short and, clinging to each other, listened. 

It was the latch of the kitchen door they heard click now. And the doorwas opening. In the kitchen they heard the sounds of cautious footsteps, footsteps which entered the dining-room, which came on toward thesitting-room. And a voice, a man's voice, whispered:

"I told you so! I--I told you so! I said I see a light. And--and thatdoor was undone and--and--By time! Obed Bangs, you can go on if you wantto, but I tell you you're riskin' your life. I--I ain't goin' to stayno longer. I'm goin' to fetch the constable--or--or the minister orsomebody. I--"

Another voice interrupted. 

"Shut up! Belay!" it ordered. "If there's anybody or anything in thishouse we'll have a look at it, that's all. You can go to the ministerafterwards, if you want to. Just now you'll come along with me if I haveto haul you by the neck. Let's see what's in here. "

There was a flash of light in the crack of the door leading from thedining-room. That door was thrown open and the light became a blaze froma big lantern held aloft. 

"Hey! What!" exclaimed the second voice. "Who--women, by theeverlastin'!"

Mrs. Barnes and Emily clinging to each other, blinked in the lanternlight. 

"Women! Two women!" said the voice again. 

Thankful answered. The voice was real and it came from a human throat. Anything human--and visible--she did not fear. 

"Yes, " she said, crisply, "we're women. What of it? Who are you?"

The man with the lantern entered the room. He was big andbroad-shouldered and bearded. His companion was short and stout andsmooth-faced; also he appeared very much frightened. Both men woreoilskin coats and sou'westers. 

"Who are you?" repeated Aunt Thankful. 

The big man answered. His sunburned, good-humored face was wrinkled andpuckered with amazement. 

"Well, " he stammered, "I--we--Humph! well, we're neighborsand--but--but, I don't know as I know you, ma'am, do I?"

"I don't know why you should. I don't know you, fur's that goes. Whatare you doin' here? Did that depot-wagon man send you?"

"Depot-wagon man? No, ma'am; nobody sent us. Kenelm--er--Mr. Parkerhere, saw a light a spell ago and, bein' as this house is supposed to beempty, he--"

"Wait a minute!" Miss Howes interrupted. "Whose house is this?"

"Why--why, it ain't anybody's house, ma'am. That is, nobody lives here. "

"But somebody used to live here, it's likely. What was his name?"

"His name? Well, old Laban Eldredge used to live here. The house belongsto Captain Abner Cahoon's heirs, I believe, and--"

Again Thankful interrupted. 

"I knew it!" she cried, excitedly. "I wondered if it mightn't be soand when I see that picture of Uncle Abner I was sure. All right, Mr. Whoever-you-are, then I'm here because I own the house. My name'sBarnes, Thankful Barnes of South Middleboro, and I'm Abner Cahoon'sheir. Emily, this--this rattle-trap you and I broke into is the'property' we've talked so much about. "

CHAPTER III

Emily said--well, the first thing she said was, "Oh, Aunt Thankful!"Then she added that she couldn't believe it. 

"It's so, " declared Mrs. Barnes, "whether we believe it or not. When youcome to think it over there's nothin' so wonderful about it, after all. I had a sneakin' suspicion when I was sittin' here by you, after you'dgone to sleep. What I saw afterwards made me almost sure. I--Hum! Iguess likely that'll keep till we get to the hotel, if we ever do getthere. Perhaps Mr. --Mr. --"

"Bangs is my name, ma'am, " said the big man with the lantern. "ObedBangs. "

"Thank you, Mr. Bangs. Or it's 'Cap'n Bangs, ' ain't it?"

"They generally call me Cap'n, ma'am, though I ain't been doin' anyactive seafarin' for some time. "

"I thought as much. Down here on Cape Cod, and givin' orders the way Iheard you afore you come into this room, 'twas nine chances to one youwas a cap'n, or you had been one. Bangs--Bangs--Obed Bangs? Why, thatname sounds kind of familiar. Seems as if--Cap'n Bangs, you didn't useto know Eben Barnes of Provincetown, did you?"

"Eben Barnes? Cap'n Eben of the White Foam, lost off Cape Hatteras in agale?"

"Yes, that's the one. I thought I heard him speak of you. He was myhusband. "

Captain Obed Bangs uttered an exclamation. Then he stepped forward andseized Mrs. Barnes' hand. The lady's hand was not a very small one butthe Captain's was so large that, as Thankful remarked afterward, itmight have shaken hers twice at the same time. 

"Eben Barnes' wife!" exclaimed Captain Obed. "Why, Eben and I wasmessmates on I don't know how many v'yages! Well, well, well, ma'am, I'mreal glad to see you. "

"You ain't so glad as we are to see you--and your friend, " observedThankful, drily. "Is he a captain, too?"

He didn't look like one, certainly. He had removed his sou'wester, uncovering a round head, with reddish-gray hair surrounding a bald spotat the crown. He had a double chin and a smile which was apologetic butingratiating. He seemed less frightened than when he first entered theroom, but still glanced about him with evident apprehension. 

"No--no, ma'am, " he stammered, in answer to the question. "No, ma'am, I--I--my name's Parker. I--I ain't a cap'n; no, ma'am. "

"Kenelm ain't been promoted yet, " observed Captain Obed gravely. "He'swaitin' until he get's old enough to go to sea. Ain't that it, Kenelm?"

Kenelm smiled and shifted his sou'wester from his right hand to hisleft. 

"I--I cal'late so, " he answered. 

"Well, it don't make any difference, " declared Thankful. "My cousinand I are just as glad to see him as if he was an admiral. We've beenwaitin' so long to see any human bein' that we'd begun to think they wasall drowned. But you haven't met my cousin yet. Her name's Howes. "

Emily, who had stood by, patient but chilly, during the introductionsand reminiscences, shook hands with Captain Bangs and Mr. Parker. Bothgentlemen said they were pleased to meet her; no, Captain Obed saidthat--Kenelm said that he was "glad to be acquaintanced. "

"I don't know as we hadn't ought to beg your pardon for creepin' in onyou this way, " said the captain. "We thought the house was empty. Wedidn't know you was visitin' your--your property. "

"Well, so far as that goes, neither did we. I don't wonder you expectedto find burglars or tramps or whatever you did expect. We've had anawful time this night, ain't we, Emily?"

"We certainly have, " declared Miss Howes, with emphasis. 

"Yes, you see--"

She gave a brief history of the cruise and wreck of the depot-wagon. Also of their burglarious entry of the house. 

"And now, Cap'n, " she said, in conclusion, "if you could think up anyway of our gettin' to that hotel, we'd be ever so much obliged. . . . Hello! There's that driver, I do believe! And about time, I should say!"

From without came the sound of wheels and the voice of Winnie S. , hailing his missing passengers. 

"Hi! Hi-i! Where be ye?"

"He'll wear his lungs out, screamin' that way, " snapped Thankful. "Can'the see the light, for goodness sakes?"

Captain Obed answered. "He couldn't see nothin' unless 'twas hung on theend of his nose, " he said. "That boy's eyes and brains ain't connected. Here, Kenelm, " turning to Mr. Parker, "you go out and tell Win to shutdown on his fog whistle; he's wastin' steam. Tell him the women-folksare in here. Look alive, now!"

Kenelm looked alive, but not much more than that. 

"All right, Cap'n, " he stammered. "A--a--all right. What--what--shall Isay--what shall I--had I better--"

"Thunderation! Do you need a chart and compass? Stay where you are. I'llsay it myself. "

He strode to the window, threw it open, and shouted in a voice which hadbeen trained to carry above worse gales than the present one:

"Ahoy! Ahoy! Win! Fetch her around aft here. Lay alongside the kitchendoor! D'you hear? Ahoy! Win! d'you hear?"

Silence. Then, after a moment, came the reply. "Yup, I hear ye. Be rightthere. "

The captain turned from the window. 

"Took some time for him to let us know he heard, didn't it, " heobserved. "Cal'late he had to say 'Judas priest' four or five timesafore he answered. If you cut all the 'Judas priests' out of that boy'stalk he'd be next door to tongue-tied. "

Thankful turned to her relative. 

"There, Emily, " she said, with a sigh of relief. "I guess likely we'llmake the hotel this tack. I begun to think we never would. "

Captain Bangs shook his head. 

"You won't go to no hotel this night, " he said, decidedly. "It's a longways off and pretty poor harbor after you make it. You'll come rightalong with me and Kenelm to his sister's house. It's only a littleways and Hannah's got a spare room and she'll be glad to have you. I'mboardin' there myself just now. Yes, you will, " he added. "Of course youwill. Suppose I'm goin' to let relations of Eben Barnes put up at theEast Wellmouth tavern? By the everlastin', I guess not! I wouldn't senda--a Democrat there. Come right along! Don't say another word. "

Both of the ladies said other words, a good many of them, but they mightas well have been orders to the wind to stop blowing. Captain Obed Bangswas, evidently, a person accustomed to having his own way. Even as theywere still protesting their new acquaintance led them to the kitchendoor, where Winnie S. And a companion, a long-legged person who answeredto the name of "Jabez, " were waiting on the front seat of a vehicleattached to a dripping and dejected horse. To the rear of this vehicle"General Jackson" was tethered by a halter. Winnie S. Was loaded to theguards with exclamatory explanations. 

"Judas priest!" he exclaimed, as the captain assisted Mrs. Barnes andEmily into the carriage. "If I ain't glad to see you folks! When I gotback here and there wa'n't a sign of you nowheres, I was took some offmy pins, I tell ye. Didn't know what to do. I says to Jabez, I says--"

Captain Obed interrupted. "Never mind what you said to Jabez, Win, " hesaid. "Why didn't you get back sooner? That's what we want to know. "

Winnie S. Was righteously indignant. "Sooner!" he repeated. "Judaspriest! I tell ye right now I'm lucky to get back at all. Took me prettynigh an hour to get to the village. Such travelin' I never see. Tried tosave time by takin' the short cut acrost the meadow, and there ain't nomeadow no more. It's three foot under water. You never see such a tide. So back I had to frog it and when I got far as Jabe's house all handshad turned in. I had to pretty nigh bust the door down 'fore I couldwake anybody up. Then Jabe he had to get dressed and we had to harnessup and--hey? Did you say anything, ma'am?"

The question was addressed to Mrs. Barnes, who had been vainly trying toask one on her own account. 

"I say have you got our valises?" asked Thankful. "Last I saw of themthey was in that other wagon, the one that broke down. "

The driver slapped his knee. "Judas priest!" he cried. "I forgot allabout them satchels. Here, Jabe, " handing the reins to his companion. "You take the hellum while I run back and fetch 'em. "

He was back in a few moments with the missing satchels. Then Jabez, who was evidently not given to wasting words, drawled: "Did you get themail? That's in there, too, ain't it?"

"Judas priest! So 'tis. Why didn't you remind me of it afore? Set therelike--like a wooden figurehead and let me run my legs off--"

His complaints died away in the distance. At last, with the mail bagunder the seat, the caravan moved on. It was still raining, but notso hard, and the wind blew less fiercely. They jogged and rocked andsplashed onward. Suddenly Winnie S. Uttered another shout. 

"The lantern!" he cried. "Where's that lantern I lent ye?"

"It's there in the house, " said Thankful. "It burned itself out and Iforgot it. Mercy on us! You're not goin' back after that, I hope. "

"Well, I dunno. That lantern belongs to the old man--dad, I mean--and hesets a lot of store by it. If I've lost that lantern on him, let aloneleavin' his depot-wagon all stove up, he'll give me--"

"Never mind what he'll give you, " broke in Captain Bangs. "You keep onyour course or I'LL give you somethin'. Don't you say another word tillwe get abreast of Hannah Parker's. "

"Humph! We're there now. I thought these folks was goin' to our hotel. "

"Take my advice and don't think so much. You'll open a seam in yourhead and founder, first thing you know. Here we are! And here's Hannah!Hannah, Kenelm and I've brought you a couple of lodgers. Now, ma'am, ifyou'll stand by. Kenelm, open that hatch. "

Mr. Parker opened the hatch--the door of the carriage--and the captainassisted the passengers to alight. Emily caught a glimpse of the whitefront of a little house and of a tall, angular woman standing in thedoorway holding a lamp. Then she and Mrs. Barnes were propelled bythe strong arms of their pilot through that doorway and into a littlesitting-room, bright and warm and cheery. 

"There!" declared Captain Obed. "That cruise is over. Kenelm! Where isKenelm? Oh, there you are! You tell that Winnie S. To trot along. We'llsettle for passage tomorrow mornin'. Now, ma'am, " turning to Thankful, "you and your relation want to make yourselves as comf'table as you can. This is Miss Parker, Kenelm's sister. Hannah, this is Mrs. Barnes, EbenBarnes' widow. You've heard me speak of him. And this is Miss Howes. Ical'late they're hungry and I know they're wet. Seems's if dry clothesand supper might be the next items on the manifest. "

Miss Parker rose to the occasion. She flew about preparing the "items. "Thankful and Emily were shown to the spare room, hot water and towelswere provided, the valise was brought in. When the ladies again madetheir appearance in the sitting-room, they were arrayed in dry, warmgarments, partly their own and partly supplied from the wardrobe oftheir hostess. As to the fit of these latter, Mrs. Barnes expressed heropinion when she said:

"Don't look at me, Emily. I feel like a barrel squeezed into an umbrellacover. This dress is long enough, land knows, but that's about all youcan say of it. However, I suppose we hadn't ought to--to look a giftdress in the waistband. "

Supper was ready in the dining-room and thither they were piloted byKenelm, whose hair, what there was of it, was elaborately "slickeddown, " and whose celluloid collar had evidently received a scrubbing. Inthe dining-room they found Captain Bangs awaiting them. Miss Parker madeher appearance bearing a steaming teapot. Hannah, now that they had anopportunity to inspect her, was seen to be as tall and sharp-featuredas her brother was short and round. She was at least fifteen years olderthan he, but she moved much more briskly. Also she treated Kenelm asshe might have treated a child, an only child who needed constantsuppression. 

"Please to be seated, everybody, " she said. "Cap'n Obed, you take yourreg'lar place. Mrs. Barnes, if you'll be so kind as to set here, andMiss Howes next to you. Kenelm, you set side of me. Set down, don'tstand there fidgetin'. WHAT did you put on that necktie for? I told youto put on the red one. "

Kenelm fingered his tie. "I--I cal'late I must have forgot, Hannah, " hestammered. "I never noticed. This one's all right, ain't it?"

"All right! It'll have to be. You can't change it now. But, for goodnesssakes, look out it stays on. The elastic's all worn loose and it'sli'ble to drop into your tea or anywheres else. Now, " with a suddenchange from a family to a "company" manner, "may I assist you to a pieceof the cold ham, Miss Howes? I trust you are feelin' quite restored toyourself again?"

Emily's answer being in the affirmative, their hostess continued:

"I'm so sorry to be obliged to set nothin' but cold ham and toast andtea before you, " she said. "If I had known you was comin' I should haveprepared somethin' more fittin'. After such an experience as you musthave been through this night to set down to ham and toast! I--I declareI feel real debilitated and ashamed to offer 'em to you. "

Thankful answered. 

"Don't say a word, Miss Parker, " she said, heartily. "We're the onesthat ought to be ashamed. Landin' on you this way in the middle of thenight. You're awfully good to take us in at all. My cousin and I wereon our way to the hotel, but Cap'n Bangs wouldn't hear of it. He'sresponsible for our comin' here. "

Miss Parker nodded. 

"Cap'n Obed is the most hospital soul livin', " she said, grandly. "Hedone just right. If he'd done anything else Kenelm and I would have felthurt. I--Look out!" with a sudden snatch at her brother's shirt front. "There goes that tie. Another second and 'twould have been right in yourplate. "

Kenelm snapped the loop of the "made" tie over his collar button. "Don'tgrab at me that way, Hannah, " he protested mildly. "I'm kind of nervoustonight, after what I've been through. 'Twouldn't have done no greatharm if I had dropped it. I could pick it up again, couldn't I?"

"You could, but I doubt if you would. You might have ate it, you'reso absent-minded. Nervous! YOU nervous! What do you think of me? Mrs. Barnes, " turning to Thankful and once more resuming the "company"manner, "you'll excuse our bein' a little upset. You see, when mybrother came home and said he'd seen lights movin' around in the oldBarnes' house, he frightened us all pretty near to death. All Cap'n Obedcould think of was tramps, or thieves or somethin'. Nothin' would do buthe must drag Kenelm right back to see who or what was in there. And Iwas left alone to imagine all sorts of dreadful things. Tramps I mightstand. They belong to this world, anyhow. But in THAT house, at eleveno'clock at night, I--Mrs. Barnes, do you believe in aberrations?"

Thankful was nonplused. "In--in which?" she asked. 

"In aberrations, spirits of dead folks comin' alive again?"

For just a moment Mrs. Barnes hesitated. Then she glanced at Emily, who was trying hard not to smile, and answered, with decision: "No, Idon't. "

"Well, I don't either, so far as that goes. I never see one myself, andI've never seen anybody that has. But when Kenelm came tearin' in to sayhe'd seen a light in a house shut up as long as that one has been, and ahouse that folks--"

Captain Bangs interrupted. He had been regarding Thankful closely andnow he changed the subject. 

"How did it happen you saw that light, Kenelm?" he asked. "What was youdoin' over in that direction a night like this?"

Kenelm hesitated. He seemed to find it difficult to answer. 

"Why--why--" he stammered, "I'd been up to the office after the mail. And--and--it was so late comin' that I give it up. I says to LemuelRyder, 'Lem, ' I says--"

His sister broke in. 

"Lem Ryder!" she repeated. "Was he at the post-office?"

"Well--well--" Kenelm's confusion was more marked than ever. "Well--well--" he stammered, "I see him, and I says--"

"You see him! Where did you see him? Kenelm Parker, I don't believe youwas at the postoffice at all. You was at the clubroom, that's where youwas. At that clubroom, smokin' and playin' cards with that deprivatedcrowd of loafers and gamblers. Tell me the truth, now, wasn't you?"

Mr. Parker's tie fell off then, but neither he nor his sister noticedit. 

"Gamblers!" he snorted. "There ain't no gamblers there. Playin' a handor two of Californy Jack just for fun ain't gamblin'. I wouldn't gamble, not for a million dollars. "

Captain Obed laughed. "Neither would I, " he observed. "Nor for twocents, with that clubroom gang; 'twould be too much nerve straincollectin' my winnin's. I see now why you come by the Barnes' house, Kenelm. It's the nighest way home from that clubhouse. Well, I'm gladyou did. Mrs. Barnes and Miss Howes would have had a long session in thedark if you hadn't. Yes, and a night at Darius Holt's hotel, which wouldhave been a heap worse. So you've been livin' at South Middleboro, Mrs. Barnes, have you? Does Miss Howes live there, too?"

Thankful, very grateful for the change of topic, told of her life sinceher husband's death, of her long stay with Mrs. Pearson, of Emily'steaching school, and their trip aboard the depot-wagon. 

"Well, " exclaimed Miss Parker, when she had finished, "you have beenthrough enough, I should say! A reg'lar story-book adventure, ain't it?Lost in a storm and shut up in an empty house, the one you come purposeto see. It's a mercy you wa'n't either of you hurt, climbin' in thatwindow the way you did. You might have broke your arms or your necksor somethin'. Mr. Alpheus Bassett, down to the Point--a great, strong, fleshy man, weighs close to two hundred and fifty and never sick aday in his life--he was up in the second story of his buildin' walkin'around spry as anybody--all alone, which he shouldn't have been at hisage--and he stepped on a fish and away he went. And the next thing wehear he's in bed with his collar-bone. Did you ever hear anything likethat in your life, Miss Howes?"

It was plain that Emily never had. "I--I'm afraid I don't understand, "she faltered. "You say he was in the second story of a building and hestepped on--on a FISH?"

"Yes, just a mackerel 'twas, and not a very big one, they tell me. Atfirst they was afraid 'twas the spine he'd broke, but it turned out tobe only the collar-bone, though that's bad enough. "

Captain Obed burst into a laugh. "'Twa'n't the mackerel's collar-bone, Miss Howes, " he explained, "though I presume likely that was broke, too, if Alpheus stepped on it. He was up in the loft of his fish shanty icin'and barrelin' fish to send to Boston, and he fell downstairs. Wonder itdidn't kill him. "

Miss Parker nodded. "That's what I say, " she declared. "AndSarah--that's his wife--tells me the doctors are real worried becausethe fraction ain't ignited yet. "

Thankful coughed and then observed that she should think they would be. 

"If you don't mind, " she added, "I think it's high time all hands wentto bed. It must be way along into the small hours and if we set here anylonger it'll be time for breakfast. You folks must be tired, settin' upthis way and I'm sure Emily and I am. If we turn in now we may have achance to look over that precious property of mine afore we go back toSouth Middleboro. I don't know, though, as we haven't seen enough of italready. It don't look very promisin' to me. "

The captain rose from the table and, walking to the window, pushed asidethe shade. 

"It'll look better tomorrow--today, I should say, " he observed. "Thestorm's about over, and the wind's hauled to the west'ard. We'll have aspell of fair weather now, I guess. That property of yours, Mrs. Barnes, 'll look a lot more promisin' in the sunshine. There's no better viewalong shore than from the front windows of that house. 'Tain't half bad, that old house ain't. All it needs is fixin' up. "

Good nights--good mornings, for it was after two o'clock--were said andthe guests withdrew to their bedroom. Once inside, with the door shut, Thankful and Emily looked at each other and both burst out laughing. 

"Oh, dear me!" gasped the former, wiping her eyes. "Maybe it's mean tolaugh at folks that's been as kind to us as these Parkers have been, butI never had such a job keepin' a straight face in my life. When she saidshe was 'debilitated' at havin' to give us ham and toast that was funnyenough, but what come afterwards was funnier. The 'fraction' ain't'ignited' yet and the doctors are worried. I should think they'd be moreworried if it had. "

Emily shook her head. "I am glad I didn't have to answer that remark, Auntie, " she said. "I never could have done it without disgracingmyself. She is a genuine Mrs. Malaprop, isn't she?"

This was a trifle too deep for Mrs. Barnes, who replied that she didn'tknow, she having never met the Mrs. What's-her-name to whom her cousinreferred. "She's a genuine curiosity, this Parker woman, if that's whatyou mean, Emily, " she said. "And so's her brother, though a differentkind of one. We must get Cap'n Bangs to tell us more about 'em in themornin'. He thinks that--that heirloom house of mine will look betterin the daylight. Well, I hope he's right; it looked hopeless enoughtonight, what I could see of it. "

"I like that Captain Bangs, " observed Emily. 

"So do I. It seems as if we'd known him for ever so long. And how hissalt-water talk does take me back. Seems as if I was hearin' my fatherand Uncle Abner--yes, and Eben, too--speakin'. And it is so sort of goodand natural to be callin' somebody 'Cap'n. ' I was brought up amongstcap'ns and I guess I've missed 'em more'n I realized. Now you must goto sleep; you'll need all the sleep you can get, and that won't be much. Good night. "

"Good night, " said Emily, sleepily. A few minutes later she said:"Auntie, what did become of that lantern our driver was so anxiousabout? The last I saw of it it was on the floor by the sofa where I waslying. But I didn't seem to remember it after the captain and Mr. Parkercame. "

Mrs. Barnes' reply was, if not prompt, at least conclusive. 

"It's over there somewhere, " she said. "The light went out, but it ain'tlikely the lantern went with it. Now you go to sleep. "

Miss Howes obeyed. She was asleep very soon thereafter. But Thankful layawake, thinking and wondering--yes, and dreading. What sort of a placewas this she had inherited? She distinctly did not believe inwhat Hannah Parker had called "aberrations, " but she had heardsomething--something strange and inexplicable in that little backbedroom. The groans might have been caused by the gale, but no galespoke English, or spoke at all, for that matter. Who, or what, was itthat had said "Oh Lord!" in the darkness and solitude of that bedroom?

CHAPTER IV

Thankful opened her eyes. The sunlight was streaming in at the window. Beneath that window hens were clucking noisily. Also in the roomadjoining someone was talking, protesting. 

"I don't know, Hannah, " said Mr. Parker's voice. "I tell you I don'tknow where it is. If I knew I'd tell you, wouldn't I? I don't seem toremember what I done with it. "

"Well, then, you've got to set down and not stir till you do remember, that's all. When you went out of this house last evenin' to go to thepostoffice--Oh, yes! To the postoffice--that's where you said youwas goin'--you had the lantern and that umbrella. When you came back, hollerin' about the light you see in the Cap'n Abner house, you had thelantern. But the umbrella you didn't have. Now where is it?"

"I don't know, Hannah. I--I--do seem to remember havin' had it, but--"

"Well, I'm glad you remember that much. You lost one of your mittens, too, but 'twas an old one, so I don't mind that so much. But thatumbrella was your Christmas present and 'twas good gloria silk witha real gilt-plated handle. I paid two dollars and a quarter for thatumbrella, and I told you never to take it out in a storm because youwere likely to turn it inside out and spile it. If I'd seen you take itlast night I'd have stopped you, but you was gone afore I missed it. "

"But--but, consarn it all, Hannah--"

"Don't swear, Kenelm. Profanity won't help you none. "

"I wa'n't swearin'. All I say is what's the use of an umbrella if youcan't hist it in a storm? I wouldn't give a darn for a schooner load of'em when 'twas fair weather. I--I cal'late I--I left it somewheres. "

"I cal'late you did. I'm goin' over to the village this mornin' and I'llstop in at that clubhouse, myself. "

"I--I don't believe it's at the clubhouse, Hannah. "

"You don't? Why don't you?"

"I--I don't know. I just guess it ain't, that's all. Somethin' seems totell me 'tain't. "

"Oh, it does, hey? I want to know! Hum! Was you anywheres else lastnight? Answer me the truth now, Kenelm Parker. Was you anywheres elselast night?"

"Anywheres else. What do you mean by that?"

"I mean what I say. You know what I mean well enough. Was you--well, wasyou callin' on anybody?"

"Callin' on anybody? CALLIN' on 'em?"

"Yes, callin' on 'em. Oh, you needn't look so innocent and buttery!You ain't above it. Ain't I had experience? Haven't I been through it?Didn't you use to say that I, your sister that's been a mother to you, was the only woman in this world for you, and then, the minute I was outof sight and hardly out of hearin', you--"

"My soul! You've got Abbie Larkin in your head again, ain't you?It--it--I swear it's a reg'lar disease with you, seems so. Ain't I toldyou I ain't seen Abbie Larkin, nor her me, for the land knows how long?And I don't want to see her. My time! Do you suppose I waded and paddleda mile and a quarter down to call on Abbie Larkin a night like lastnight? What do you think I am--a bull frog? I wouldn't do it to seethe--the Queen of Rooshy. "

This vehement outburst seemed to have some effect. Miss Parker's tonewas more conciliatory. 

"Well, all right, " she said. "I s'pose likely you didn't call on her, ifyou say so, Kenelm. I suppose I am a foolish, lone woman. But, O Kenelm, I do think such a sight of you. And you know you've got money and thatAbbie Larkin is so worldly she'd marry you for it in a minute. I didn'tknow but you might have met her. "

"Met her! Tut--tut--tut! If that ain't--and in a typhoon like lastnight! Oh, sartin, I met her! I was up here on top of Meetin'-houseHill, larnin' her to swim in the mud puddles. You do talk so sillysometimes, Hannah. "

"Maybe I do, " with a sniff. "Maybe I do, Kenelm, but you mean so much tome. I just can't let you go. "

"Go! I ain't goin' nowheres, am I? What kind of talk's that?"

"And to think you'd heave away that umbrella--the umbrella I gave you!That's what makes me feel so bad. A nice, new, gilt-plated umbrella--"

"I never hove it away. I--I--well, I left it somewheres, I--I cal'late. I'll go look for it after breakfast. Say, when are we goin' to havebreakfast, anyhow? It's almost eight o'clock now. Ain't them women-folksEVER goin' to turn out?"

Thankful had heard enough. She was out of bed the next instant. 

"Emily! Emily!" she cried. "It's late. We must get up now. "

The voices in the sitting-room died to whispers. 

"I--I can't help it, " pleaded Kenelm. "I never meant nothin'. I thoughtthey was asleep. And 'TIS most eight. By time, Hannah, you do pick onme--"

A vigorous "Sshh!" interrupted him. The door between the sitting-roomand dining-room closed with a slam. Mrs. Barnes and Emily dressedhurriedly. 

They gathered about the breakfast table, the Parkers, Captain Obed andthe guests. Miss Parker's "company manner" was again much in evidenceand she seemed to feel it her duty to lead the conversation. Sheprofessed to have discovered a striking resemblance between Miss Howesand a deceased relative of her own named Melinda Ellis. 

"The more I see of you, Miss Howes, " she declared, "the more I can'thelp thinkin' of poor Melindy. She was pretty and had dark eyes and hairsame's you've got, and that same sort of--of consumptic look to her. Notthat you've got consumption, I don't mean that. Only you look the wayshe done, that's all. She did have consumption, poor thing. Everybodythought she'd die of it, but she didn't. She got up in the night to takesome medicine and she took the wrong kind--toothache lotion it was andawful powerful--and it ate right through to her diagram. She didn't livelong afterwards, poor soul. "

No one said anything for a moment after this tragic recital. ThenCaptain Bangs observed cheerfully:

"Well, I guess Miss Howes ain't likely to drink any toothache lotion. "

Hannah nodded sedately. "I trust not, " she said. "But accidents dohappen. And Melindy and Miss Howes look awful like each other. You'rereal well, I hope, Miss Howes. After bein' exposed the way you was lastnight I HOPE you haven't caught cold. You never can tell what'll followa cold--with some people. "

Thankful was glad when the meal was over. She, too, was fearful that hercousin might have taken cold during the wet chill of the previous night. But Emily declared she was very well indeed; that the very sight of thesunlit sea through the dining-room windows had acted like a tonic. 

"Good enough!" exclaimed Captain Obed, heartily. "Then we ought to begettin' a bigger dose of that tonic. Mrs. Barnes, if you and Miss Howeswould like to walk over and have a look at that property of yours, now'sas good a time as any to be doin' it. I'll go along with you if I won'tbe in the way. "

Thankful looked down rather doubtfully at the borrowed gown she waswearing, but Miss Parker came to the rescue by announcing that herguests' own garments must be dry by this time, they had been hanging bythe stove all night. So, after the change had been made, the two leftthe Parker residence and took the foot-path at the top of the bluff. Captain Obed seemed at first rather uneasy. 

"Hope I ain't hurryin' you too much, " he said. "I thought maybe it wouldbe just as well to get out of sight of Hannah as quick as possible. Shemight take a notion to come with us. I thought sure Kenelm would, buthe's gone on a cruise of his own somewheres. He hustled outdoor soon asbreakfast was over. "

Emily burst out laughing. "Excuse me, please, " she said, "but I'vebeen dying to do this for so long. That--that Miss Parker is the oddestperson!"

The captain grinned. "Thinkin' about that 'diagram' yarn?" he asked. "'Tis funny when you hear it the first four or five times. Hannah Parkercan get more wrong words in the right places than anybody I ever runacross. She must have swallowed a dictionary some time or 'nother, butit ain't digested well, I'm afraid. "

Thankful laughed, too. "You must find her pretty amusin', Cap'n Bangs, "she said. 

The captain shook his head. "She's a reg'lar dime show, " he observed. Then he added: "Only trouble with that kind of a show is it gets kind oftiresome when you have to set through it all winter. There! now you cansee your property, Mrs. Barnes, and ten mile either side of it. Look'ssome more lifelike and cheerful than it did last night, don't it?"

It most assuredly did. They had reached the summit of a little hilland before and behind and beneath them was a view of shore and sea thatcaused Emily to utter an exclamation of delight. 

"Oh!" she cried. "WHAT a view! What a wonderful view!"

Behind them, beyond the knoll upon which stood the little Parker housewhich they had just left, at the further side of the stretch of saltmeadow with the creek and bridge, was East Wellmouth village. Along thewhite sand of the beach, now garlanded with lines of fresh seaweedtorn up and washed ashore by the gale, were scattered a half dozenfishhouses, with dories and lobster pots before them, and at the rearof these began the gray and white huddle of houses and stores, with twowhite church spires and the belfry of the schoolhouse rising above theirroofs. 

At their right, only a few yards from the foot-path where they stood, the high sand bluff broke sharply down to the beach and the sea. The great waves, tossing their white plumes on high, came marchingmajestically in, to trip, topple and fall, one after the other, inroaring, hissing Niagaras upon the shore. Over their raveled creststhe gulls dipped and soared. The air was clear, the breeze keen andrefreshing and the salty smell of the torn seaweed rose to the nostrilsof the watchers. 

To the left were barren hills, dotted with scrub, and farther on thepine groves, with the road from Wellmouth Centre winding out from theirmidst. 

All these things Thankful and Emily noticed, but it was on the prospectdirectly ahead that their interest centered. For there, upon the slopeof the next knoll stood the "property" they had come to see and to whichthey had been introduced in such an odd fashion. 

Seen by daylight and in the glorious sunshine the old Barnes housedid look, as their guide said, more "lifelike and cheerful. " A big, rambling, gray-gabled affair, of colonial pattern, a large yard beforeit and a larger one behind, the tumble-down shed in which GeneralJackson had been tethered, a large barn, also rather tumble-down, with henhouses and corncribs beside it and attached to it in haphazardfashion. In the front yard were overgrown clusters of lilac and rosebushes and, behind the barn, was the stubble of a departed garden. Thankful looked at all these. 

"So that's it, " she said. 

"That's it, " said Captain Obed. "What do you think of it?"

"Humph! Well, there's enough of it, anyhow, as the little boy said aboutthe spring medicine. What do you think, Emily?"

Emily's answer was prompt and emphatic. 

"I like it, " she declared. "It looks so different this morning. Lastnight it seemed lonesome and pokey and horrid, but now it is almostinviting. Think what it must be in the spring and summer. Think ofopening those upper windows on a summer morning and looking out and awayfor miles and miles. It would be splendid!"

"Um--yes. But spring and summer don't last all the time. There'sDecember and January and February to think of. Even March ain't all joy;we've got last night to prove it by. However, it doesn't look quite sodesperate as I thought it might; I'll give in to that. Last night Iwas about ready to sell it for the price of a return ticket to SouthMiddleboro. Now I guess likely I ought to get a few tradin' stamps alongwith the ticket. Humph! This sartin isn't ALL Poverty Lane, is it? THATplace wa'n't built with tradin' stamps. Who lives there?"

She was pointing to the estate adjoining the Barnes house and frontingthe sea further on. "Estate" is a much abused term and is sometimesapplied to rather insignificant holdings, but this one deserved thename. Great stretches of lawns and shrubbery, ornamental windmill, greenhouses, stables, drives and a towered and turreted mansiondominating all. 

"I seem to have aristocratic neighbors, anyhow, " observed Mrs. Barnes. "Whose tintype belongs in THAT gilt frame?"

Captain Obed chuckled at the question. 

"Why, nobody's just now, " he said. "There was one up to last fall, though I shouldn't have called him a tintype. More of a panorama, ifyou asked me--or him, either. That place belonged to our leadin' summerresident, Mr. Hamilton Colfax, of New York. There's a good view fromthere, too, but not as fine as this one of yours, Mrs. Barnes. When youruncle, Cap'n Abner, bought this old house it used to set over on a partof that land there. The cap'n didn't like the outlook so well as the onefrom here, so he bought this strip and moved the house down. Quite a jobmovin' a house as old as this one. 

"Mr. Colfax died last October, " he added, "and the place is for sale. Good deal of a shock, his death was, to East Wellmouth. Kind of liketakin' away the doughnut and leavin' nothin' but the hole. The WellmouthWeekly Advocate pretty nigh gave up the ghost when Mr. Colfax did. Italways cal'lated on fillin' at least three columns with the doin's ofthe Colfaxes and their 'house parties' and such. All summer it toldwhat they did do and all winter it guessed what they was goin' to do. Itain't been much more than a patent medicine advertisin' circular sincethe blow struck. Well, have you looked enough? Shall we heave ahead andgo aboard your craft, Mrs. Barnes?"

They walked on, down the little hill and up the next, and entered thefront yard of the Barnes house. There were the marks in the mud and sandwhere the depot-wagon had overturned, but the wagon itself was gone. "Cal'late Winnie S. And his dad come around early and towed it home, "surmised Captain Obed. "Seemed to me I smelled sulphur when I opened mybedroom window this mornin'. Guess 'twas a sort of floatin' memory ofold man Holt's remarks when he went by. That depot-wagon was an antiqueand antiques are valuable these days. Want to go inside, do you?"

Thankful hesitated. "I haven't got the key, " she said. "I suppose it'sat that Badger man's in the village. You know who I mean, Cap'n Bangs. "

The captain nodded. 

"Christopher S. H. Badger, tinware, groceries, real estate, boots andshoes, and insurance, " he said. "Likewise justice of the peace and firstmate of all creation. Yes, I know Chris. "

"Well, he's been in charge of this property of mine. He collected therent from that Mr. Eldredge who used to live here. I had a good manyletters from him, mainly about paintin' and repairs. "

"Um--hum; I ain't surprised. Chris sells paint as well as tea andtinware. He's got the key, has he?"

"I suppose he has. I ought to have gone up and got it from him. "

"Well, I wouldn't fret about it. Of course we can't go in the frontdoor like the minister and weddin' company, but the kitchen door wasunfastened last night and I presume likely it's that way now. Youhaven't any objection to the kitchen door, have you? When old Labanlived here it's a safe bet he never used any other. Cur'ous old critter, he was. "

They entered by the kitchen door. The inside of the house, like theoutside, was transformed by day and sunshine. The rooms downstairs werelarge and well lighted, and, in spite of their emptiness, they seemedalmost cheerful. 

"Whose furniture is this?" asked Thankful, referring to the stove andchair and sofa in the dining-room. 

"Laban's; that is, it used to be. When he died he didn't have chick norchild nor relation, so fur's anybody knew, and his stuff stayed righthere. There wa'n't very much of it. That is--" He hesitated. 

"But, there must have been more than this, " said Thankful. "What, becameof it?"

Captain Obed shook his head. "You might ask Chris Badger, " he suggested. "Chris sells antiques on the side--the high side. "

"Did old Mr. Eldredge live here ALL alone?" asked Emily. 

"Yup. And died all alone, too. Course I don't mean he was alone all thetime he was sick. Most of that time he was out of his head and folkscould stay with him, but he came to himself occasional and when he didhe'd fire 'em out because feedin' 'em cost money. He wa'n't what you'dcall generous, Laban wa'n't. "

"Where did he die?" asked Thankful, who was looking out of the window. 

"Upstairs in the little back bedroom. Smallest room in the house 'tis, and folks used to say he slept there 'cause he could heat it by hiscussin' instead of a stove. 'Most always cussin', he was--cussin' andgroanin'. "

Thankful was silent. Emily said: "Groaning? You mean he groaned when hewas ill?"

"Yes, and when he was well, too. A habit of his, groanin' was. I don'tknow why he done it--see himself in the lookin'-glass, maybe; that wasenough to make anybody groan. He'd groan in his sleep--or snore--orboth. He was the noisiest sleeper ever I set up with. Shall we goupstairs?"

The narrow front stairs creaked as loudly in the daytime as they hadon the previous night, but the long hall on the upper floor was neitherdark nor terrifying. Nevertheless it was with just a suspicion of dreadthat Mrs. Barnes approached the large room at the end of the hall andthe small one adjoining it. Her common-sense had returned and shewas naturally brave, but an experience such as hers had been is notforgotten in a few hours. However, she was determined that no one shouldknow her feelings; therefore she was the first to enter the little room. 

"Here's where Laban bunked, " said the captain. "You'd think with allthe big comf'table bedrooms to choose from he wouldn't pick out thistwo-by-four, would you? But he did, probably because nobody else would. He was a contrary old rooster, and odd as Dick's hat-band. "

Thankful was listening, although not to their guide's remarks. She waslistening for sounds such as she had heard--or thought she had heard--onthe occasion of her previous visit to that room. But there were no suchsounds. There was the bed, the patchwork comforter, the chair and thepictures on the walls, but when she approached that bed there cameno disturbing groans. And, by day, the memory of her fright seemedabsolutely ridiculous. For at least the tenth time she solemnly resolvedthat no one should ever know how foolish she had been. 

Emily uttered an exclamation and pointed. 

"Why, Auntie!" she cried. "Isn't that--where did that lantern comefrom?"

Captain Obed looked where she was pointing. He stepped forward andpicked up the overturned lantern. 

"That's Darius Holt's lantern, I do believe, " he declared. "The oneWinnie S. Was makin' such a fuss about last night. How in the nation didit get up here?"

Thankful laughed. "I brought it up, " she said. "I come on a littleexplorin' cruise when Emily dropped asleep on that sittin'-room lounge, but I hadn't much more'n got in here when the pesky thing went out. Youought to have seen me hurryin' along that hall to get down beforeyou woke up, Emily. No, come to think of it, you couldn't have seenme--'twas too dark to see anything. . . . Well, " she added, quickly, in order to head off troublesome questioning, "we've looked around herepretty well. What else is there to see?"

They visited the garret and the cellar; both were spacious and not tooclean. 

"If I ever come here to live, " declared Thankful, with decision, "there'll be some dustin' and sweepin' done, I know that. "

Emily looked at her in surprise. 

"Come here to live!" she repeated. "Why, Auntie, are you thinking ofcoming here to live?"

Her cousin's answer was not very satisfactory. "I've been thinkin' agood many things lately, " she said. "Some of 'em was even more crazythan that sounds. "

The inside of the house having been thus thoroughly inspected theyexplored the yard and the outbuildings. The barn was a large one, withstalls for two horses and a cow and a carriage-room with the remnants ofan old-fashioned carryall in it. 

"This is about the way it used to be in Cap'n Abner's day, " said CaptainObed. "That carryall belonged to your uncle, the cap'n, Mrs. Barnes. The boys have had it out for two or three Fourth of July Antiques andHorribles' parades; 'twon't last for many more by the looks of it. "

"And what, " asked Thankful, "is that? It looks like a pigsty. "

They were standing at the rear of the house, which was built upon aslope. Under the washshed, which adjoined the kitchen, was a ricketydoor. Beside that door was a boarded enclosure which extended both intothe yard and beneath the washshed. 

Captain Bangs laughed. "You've guessed it, first crack, " he said. "Itis a pigpen. Some of Laban's doin's, that is. He used to keep a pig and'twas too much trouble to travel way out back of the barn to feed it, soLabe rigged up this contraption. That door leads into the potato cellar. Labe fenced off half the cellar to make a stateroom for the pig. Hethought as much of that hog as if 'twas his own brother, and there WAS asort of family likeness. "

Thankful snorted. "A pigsty under the house!" she said. "Well, that'sall I want to know about THAT man!"

As they were returning along the foot-path by the bluff Captain Obed, who had been looking over his shoulder, suddenly stopped. 

"That's kind of funny, " he said. 

"What?" asked Emily. 

"Oh, nothin', I guess. I thought I caught a sight of somebody peekin'around the back of that henhouse. If 'twas somebody he dodged back soquick I couldn't be sure. Humph! I guess I was mistaken, or 'twas justone of Solon Taylor's young ones. Solon's a sort of--sort of stevedoreat the Colfax place. Lives there and takes care of it while the ownersare away. No-o; no, I don't see nobody now. "

Thankful was silent during the homeward walk. When she and Miss Howeswere alone in their room, she said:

"Emily, are you real set on gettin' back to South Middleboro tonight?"

"No, Auntie. Why?"

"Well, if you ain't I think I'd like to stay over another day. I've gotan idea in my head and, such a thing bein' kind of unusual, I'd liketo keep company with it for a spell. I'll tell you about it by and by;probably 'twon't come to anything, anyway. "

"But do you think we ought to stay here, as Miss Parker's guests?Wouldn't it be--"

"Of course it would. We'll go over to that hotel, the one we startedfor in the first place. Judgin' from what I hear of that tavern it'll bewuth experiencin'; and--and somethin' may come of that, too. "

She would not explain further, and Emily, knowing her well, did notpress the point. 

Hannah Parker protested volubly when her "company" declared itsintention of going to the East Wellmouth Hotel. 

"Of course you shan't do no such thing, " she declared. "The idea! It'sno trouble at all to have you, and that hotel really ain't fit for suchfolks as you to stay at. Mrs. Bacon, from Boston, stayed there one nightin November and she pretty nigh famished with the cold, to say nothin'of havin' to eat huckleberry preserves for supper two nights runnin'. Course they had plenty of other things in the closet, but they'd openeda jar of huckleberries, so they had to be et up afore they spiled. That's the way they run THAT hotel. And Mrs. Bacon is easternMassachusetts delegate from the State Grange. She's Grand ExcitedMatron. Just think of treatin' her that way! Well, where've you been allthe forenoon?"

The question was addressed to her brother, who entered the house by theside door at that moment. Kenelm seemed a trifle confused. 

"I--I been lookin' for that umbrella, Hannah, " he explained. "I knew Imust have left it somewheres 'cause--'cause, you see I--I took it outwith me last night and--and--"

"And come home without it. It wouldn't take a King Solomon to know that. Did you find it?"

Kenelm's embarrassment appeared to increase. 

"Well, " he stammered, "I ain't exactly found it--but--"

"But what?"

"I--I'm cal'latin' to find it, Hannah. "

"Yes, I know. You're cal'latin' to get to Heaven some time or other, I s'pose, but if the path is as narrow and crooked as they say 'tis Ishould be scared if I was you. You'll find a way to lose it, if there isone. Oh, dear me!" with a sudden change to a tone almost pleading. "Beyou goin' to smoke again?"

Kenelm's reply was strange for him. He scratched a match and lit hispipe with calm deliberation. 

"I'm cal'latin' to, " he said, cheerfully. And his sister, to thesurprise of Mrs. Barnes and Emily, did not utter another word ofprotest. 

Captain Obed volunteered to accompany them to the hotel and to thestore of Mr. Badger. On the way Thankful mentioned Mr. Parker's amazingindependence in the matter of the pipe. 

The captain chuckled. "Yes, " he said, "Kenelm smokes when he wants to, and sometimes when he don't, I guess, just to keep his self-respect. Smokin' is one p'int where he beat out Hannah. It's quite a yarn, theway he done it is. Some time I'll tell it to you, maybe. "

The hotel--it was kept by Darius Holt, father of Winnie S. --was no moreinviting than Miss Parker's and Captain Bangs' hints had led them toexpect. But Thankful insisted on engaging a room for the night and onreturning there for dinner, supper and breakfast the following day. 

"After that, we'll see, " she said. "Now let's go and make a call on thatrent collector of mine. "

Mr. Badger was surprised to meet the owner of the Barnes house, surprised and a bit taken aback, so it seemed to Mrs. Barnes and hercousin. He was very polite, almost obsequiously so, and his explanationsconcerning the repairs which he had found it necessary to make and thepainting which he had had done were lengthy if not convincing. 

As they left him, smiling and bowing in the doorway of his store, Thankful shook her head. When they were out of earshot she said:

"Hum! The paint he says he put on that precious property of mine don'tshow as much as you'd expect, but he used enough butter and whitewashthis morning to make up. He's a slick party, that Mr. Badger is, orI miss my guess. His business arithmetic don't go much further thanaddition. Everything in creation added to one makes one and he's theone. Mr. Chris Badger's got jobs enough, accordin' to his sign. He won'tstarve if he don't collect rents for me any more. "

The hotel dinner was neither bountiful nor particularly well cooked. The Holts joined them at table and Winnie S. Talked a good deal. Heexpressed much joy at the recovery of his lantern. 

"But when I see you folks in that house last night, " he said, "I thoughtto myself, 'Judas priest!' thinks I. 'Them women has got more spunk thanI've got. ' Gettin' into a house like that all alone in the dark--Whew!Judas priest! I wouldn't do it!"

"Why not?" asked Emily. 

"Oh, just 'cause I wouldn't, I suppose. Now I don't believe in suchthings, of course, but old Laban he did die there. I never heardnothin', but they tell me--"

"Rubbish!" broke in Mr. Holt, Senior. "'Tain't nothin' but fool yarns, the whole of it. Take an old house, a hundred year old same as that is, and shut her up and 'tain't long afore folks do get to pretendin' theyhear things. I never heard nothin'. Have some more pie, Miss Howes? Huh!There AIN'T no more, is there!"

After dinner Emily retired to her room for a nap. She did so underprotest, declaring that she was not tired, but Thankful insisted. 

"If you ain't tired now you will be when the excitement's over, " shesaid. "My conscience is plaguin' me enough about fetchin' you on thiscruise, as it is. Just take it as easy as you can, Emily. Lie down andrest, and please me. "

So Emily obeyed orders and Mrs. Barnes, after drawing the curtains andasking over and over again if her cousin was sure she was comfortable, went out. It was late in the afternoon when she returned. 

"I've been talkin' until my face aches, " she declared. "And my mind isabout made up to do--to do what may turn out to be the craziest thingI ever DID do. I'll tell you the whole thing after supper, Emily. Let'slet my tongue have a vacation till then. "

And, after supper, which, by the way, was no better than the dinner, shefulfilled her promise. They retired to the bedroom and Thankful, havingcarefully closed the windows and door and hung a towel over the keyhole, told of her half-formed plan. 

"Emily, " she began, "I presume likely you'll feel that you'd ought to goback home tomorrow? Yes, I knew you'd feel that way. Well, I ain't goin'with you. I've made up my mind to stay here for a few days longer. NowI'll tell you why. 

"You see, Emily, " she went on, "my comin' down here to East Wellmouthwa'n't altogether for the fun of lookin' at the heirloom Uncle Abnerleft me. The first thing I wanted to do was see it, but when I hadseen it, and if it turned out to be what I hoped it might be, there wassomethin' else. Emily, Mrs. Pearson's dyin' leaves me without a job. Oh, of course I know I could 'most likely get another chance at nursin' orkeepin' house for somebody, but, to tell you the truth, I'm gettin'kind of tired of that sort of thing. Other folks' houses are like otherfolks' ailments; they don't interest you as much as your own do. I'msick of askin' somebody else what they want for dinner; I'd like to getmy own dinner, or, at least, if somebody else is to eat with me, I wantto decide myself what they'll have to eat. I want to run my own houseonce more afore I die. And it seems--yes, it seems to me as if here wasthe chance; nothin' but a chance, and a risky one, but a chance just thesame. Emily, I'm thinkin' of fixin' up Uncle Abner's old rattletrap andopenin' a boardin'-house for summer folks in it. 

"Yes, yes; I know, " she continued, noticing the expression on hercompanion's face. "There's as much objection to the plan as there isslack managin' in this hotel, and that's some consider'ble. Fust off, it'll cost money. Well; I've saved a little money and those cranberrybog shares Mrs. Pearson left me will sell for two thousand at least. That would be enough, maybe, if I wanted to risk it all, but I don't. I've got another scheme. This property of mine down here is free andclear, but, on account of its location and the view, Cap'n Bangs tellsme it's worth consider'ble more than I thought it was. I believe--yes, Ido believe I could put a mortgage on it for enough to pay for the fixin'over, maybe more. "

Emily interrupted. 

"But, Auntie, " she said, "a mortgage is a debt, isn't it? A debt thatmust be paid. And if you borrow from a stranger--"

"Just a minute, Emily. Course a mortgage is a debt, but it's a debt onthe house and land and, if worse comes to worst, the house and land cango to pay for it. And I don't mean to borrow from a stranger, if I canhelp it. I've got a relation down here on the Cape, although he's apretty fur-off, round-the-corner relation, third cousin, or somethin'like that. His name's Solomon Cobb and he lives over to Trumet, aboutnine mile from here, so Cap'n Bangs says. And he and Uncle Abner usedto sail together for years. He was mate aboard the schooner whenUncle Abner died on a v'yage from Charleston home. This Cobb man is atight-fisted old bachelor, they say, but his milk of human kindness maynot be all skimmed. And, anyhow, he does take mortgages; that's the heftof his business--I got that from the cap'n without tellin' him what Iwanted to know for. "

Miss Howes smiled. 

"You and Captain Bangs have been putting your heads together, I see, "she said. 

"Um--hm. And his head ain't all mush and seeds like a pumpkin, if I'many judge. The cap'n tells me that east Wellmouth needs a good summerboardin'-house. This--this contraption we're in now is the nighest thingthere is to it, and that's as far off as dirt is from soap; you can seethat yourself. 'Cordin' to Cap'n Bangs, lots and lots of city peoplewould come here summers if there was a respectable, decent place to goto. Now, Emily, why can't I give 'em such a place? Seems to me I can. Anyhow, if I can mortgage the place to Cousin Sol Cobb I think--yes, I'mpretty sure I shall try. Now what do you think? Is your Aunt ThankfulBarnes losin' her sense--always providin' she's ever had any to lose--oris she gettin' to be a real business woman at last?"

Emily's reply was at first rather doubtful. She raised one objectionafter the other, but Mrs. Barnes was always ready with an answer. It wasplain that she had looked at her plan from every angle. And, at last, Miss Howes, too, became almost enthusiastic. 

"I do believe, " she said, "it may turn out to be a splendid thing foryou, Auntie. At least, I'm sure you will succeed if anyone can. Ohdear!" wistfully. "I only wish it were possible for me to stay here andhelp with it all. But I can't--I can't. Mother and the children need themoney and I must go back to my school. "

Thankful nodded. "Yes, " she admitted, "I suppose likely you must, forthe present. But--but if it SHOULD be a go and I SHOULD see plainersailin' ahead, then I'd need somebody to help manage, somebody youngerand more up-to-date than I am. And I know mighty well who I shall sendfor. "

They talked for a long time, but at last, after they were in bed and thelamp was extinguished, Emily said:

"I hate to go back and leave you here, Auntie; indeed I do. I shallbe so interested and excited I shall scarcely be able to wait for yourletters. You will write just as soon as you have seen this Mr. Cobb, won't you?"

"Yes, sartin sure I will. I know it's goin' to be hard for you to go andleave me, Emily, but I shan't be havin' a Sunday-school picnic, exactly, myself. From what I used to hear about Cousin Solomon, unless he'schanged a whole lot since, gettin' a dollar from him won't be as easyas pullin' a spoon out of a kittle of soft-soap. I'll have to do somepersuadin', I guess. Wish my tongue was as soothin'-syrupy as that Mr. Badger's is. But I'm goin' to do my best. And if talkin' won't do itI'll--I swear I don't know as I shan't give him ether. Maybe he'd takeTHAT if he could get it for nothin'. Good night. "

CHAPTER V

"Well, " said Thankful, with a sigh, "she's gone, anyhow. I feel almostas if I'd cut my anchor rope and was driftin' out of sight of land. It'squeer, ain't it, how you can make up your mind to do a thing, andthen, when you've really started to do it, almost wish you hadn't. Lastnight--yes, and this mornin'--I was as set on carryin' through this planof mine as a body could be, but just now, when I saw Emily get aboardthose cars, it was all I could do to keep from goin' along with her. "

Captain Obed nodded. "Sartin, " he agreed. "That's natural enough. When Iwas a youngster I was forever teasin' to go to sea. I thought my dad wasmeaner than a spiled herrin' to keep on sayin' no when I said yes. Butwhen he did say yes and I climbed aboard the stagecoach to start forBoston, where my ship was, I never was more homesick in my life. I waslater on, though--homesick and other kinds. "

They were standing on the station platform at Wellmouth Centre, andthe train which was taking Emily back to South Middleboro was a rapidlymoving, smoking blur in the distance. The captain, who seemed tohave taken a decided fancy to his prospective neighbor and her youngrelative, had come with them to the station. Thankful had hired a horseand "open wagon" at the livery stable in East Wellmouth and had intendedengaging a driver as well, but Captain Bangs had volunteered to act inthat capacity. 

"I haven't got much to do this mornin', " he said. "Fact is, I generallydo have more time on my hands than anything else this season of theyear. Later on, when I put out my fish weirs, I'm pretty busy, but nowI'm a sort of 'longshore loafer. You're figurin' to go to Trumet afteryou've seen Miss Emily leave the dock, you said, didn't you? Well, I'vegot an errand of my own in Trumet that might as well be done now as anytime. I'll drive you over and back if you're willin' to trust the vesselin my hands. I don't set up to be head of the Pilots' Associationwhen it comes to steerin' a horse, but I cal'late I can handle anyfour-legged craft you're liable to charter in East Wellmouth. "

His offer was accepted and so far he had proved a competent and ablehelmsman. Now, Miss Howes having been started on her homeward way, thenext port of call was to be the office of Mr. Solomon Cobb at Trumet. 

During the first part of the drive Thankful was silent and answeredonly when spoken to. The parting with Emily and the sense of heavyresponsibility entailed by the project she had in mind made her rathersolemn and downcast. Captain Obed, noticing this, and suspecting thecause, chatted and laughed, and after a time his passenger seemed toforget her troubles and to enjoy the trip. 

They jogged up the main street of Trumet until they reached the littlethree-cornered "square" which is the business center of the village. Next beyond the barbershop, which is two doors beyond the general storeand postoffice, was a little one-story building, weather-beaten andbadly in need of paint. The captain steered his "craft" up to thesidewalk before this building and pulled up. 

"Whoa!" he ordered, addressing the horse. Then, turning to Thankful, hesaid:

"Here you are, ma'am. This is Sol Cobb's place. "

Mrs. Barnes looked at the little building. Its exterior certainly wasnot inviting. The windows looked as if they had not been washed forweeks, the window shades were yellow and crooked, and one of the panesof glass in the front door was cracked across. Thankful had not seen her"Cousin Solomon" for years, not since she was a young woman, but she hadheard stories of his numerous investments and business prosperity, andshe could scarcely believe this dingy establishment was his. 

"Are you sure, Cap'n Bangs?" she faltered. "This can't be the SolomonCobb I mean. He's well off and it don't seem as if he would be in anoffice like this--if 'tis an office, " she added. "It looks more like ahenhouse to me. And there's no signs anywhere. "

The captain laughed. "Signs cost money, " he said. "It takes paint tomake a sign, same as it does to keep a henhouse lookin' respectable. This is the only Sol Cobb in Trumet, fur's I ever heard, and he's welloff, sartin. He ought to be; I never heard of him lettin' go of anythinghe got hold of. Maybe you think I'm talkin' pretty free about yourrelation, Mrs. Barnes, " he added, apologetically. "I hadn't ought to, Isuppose, but I've had one or two little dealin's with Sol, one time or'nother, and I--well, maybe I'm prejudiced. Excuse me, won't you? He maybe altogether different with his own folks. "

Thankful was still staring at the dubious and forbidding front door. 

"It doesn't seem as if it could be, " she said. "But if you say so ofcourse 'tis. "

"Yes, ma'am, I guess 'tis. That's Sol Cobb's henhouse and the oldrooster is in, judgin' by the signs. Those are his rubbers on the step. Wearin' rubbers winter or summer is a habit of his. Humph! I'm talkin'too much again. You're goin' in, I suppose, ma'am?"

Thankful threw aside the carriage robe and prepared to clamber from thewagon. 

"I surely am, " she declared. "That's what I came way over here for. "

The captain sprang to the ground and helped her to alight. 

"I'll be right across the road at the store there, " he said. "I'll be onthe watch when you came out. I--I--"

He hesitated. Evidently there was something else he wished to say, buthe found the saying difficult. Thankful noticed the hesitation. 

"Yes, what was it, Cap'n Bangs?" she asked. 

Captain Obed fidgeted with the reins. 

"Why, nothin', I guess, " he faltered. "Only--only--well, I tell you, Mrs. Barnes, if--if you was figgerin' on doin' any business with Mr. Cobb, any money business, I mean, and--and you'd rather go anywhereselse I--I--well, I'm pretty well acquainted round here on the Capeamongst the bank folks and such and I'd be real glad to--"

Thankful interrupted. She had, after much misgiving and reluctance, made up her mind to approach her distant relative with the mortgageproposition, but to discuss that proposition with strangers was, to hermind, very different. She had mentioned the proposed mortgage to Emily, but she had told no one else, not even the captain himself. And she didnot mean to tell. The boarding house plan must stand or fall accordingto Mr. Cobb's reception of it. 

"No, no, " she said, hastily. "It ain't anything important--that is, veryimportant. "

"Well, all right. You see--I only meant--excuse me, Mrs. Barnes. I hopeyou don't think I meant to be nosey or interferin' in your affairs. "

"Of course I don't. You've gone to a lot of trouble on my account as'tis, and you've been real kind. "

The captain hurriedly muttered that he hadn't been kind at all andwatched her as she walked up the short path to Mr. Cobb's front door. Then, with a solemn shake of the head, he clinched again at the wagonseat and drove across the road to the hitching-posts before the store. Thankful opened the door of the "henhouse" and entered. 

The interior of the little building was no mare inviting than itsoutside. One room, dark, with a bare floor, and with cracked plasteredwalls upon which a few calendars and an ancient map were hanging. Therewas a worn wooden settee and two wooden armchairs at the front, near thestove, and at the rear an old-fashioned walnut desk. 

At this desk in a shabby, leather-cushioned armchair, sat a little oldman with scant gray hair and a fringe of gray throat whiskers. He woresteel-rimmed spectacles and over these he peered at his visitor. 

"Good mornin', " said Thankful. It seemed to her high time that someonesaid something, and the little man had not opened his lips. He did notopen them even now. 

"Um, " he grunted, and that was all. 

"Are you Mr. Solomon Cobb?" she asked. She knew now that he was; he hadchanged a great deal since she had last seen him, but his eyes had notchanged, and he still had the habit she remembered, that of pulling athis whiskers in little, short tugs as if trying to pull them out. "Likea man hauling wild carrots out of a turnip patch, " she wrote Emily whendescribing the interview. 

He did not answer the question. Instead, after another long look, hesaid:

"If you're sellin' books, I don't want none. Don't use 'em. "

This was so entirely unexpected that Mrs. Barnes was, for the moment, confused and taken aback. 

"Books!" she repeated, wonderingly. "I didn't say anything about books. I asked you if you was Mr. Cobb. "

Another look. "If you're sellin' or peddlin' or agentin' or anything Idon't want none, " said the little man. "I'm tellin' you now so's you cansave your breath and mine. I've got all I want. "

Thankful looked at him and his surroundings. This ungracious andunlooked for reception began to have its effect upon her temper; as shewrote Emily in the letter, her "back fin began to rise. " It was on thetip of her tongue to say that, judging by appearances, he should want agood many things, politeness among others. But she did not say it. 

"I ain't a peddler or a book agent, " she declared, crisply. "When Iask you to buy, seems to me 'twould be time enough to say no. If you'reSolomon Cobb, and I know you are, I've come to see you on business. "

The word "business" had an effect. Mr. Cobb swung about in his chair andregarded her fixedly. There was a slight change in his tone. 

"Business, hey?" he repeated. "Well, I'm a business man, ma'am. Whatsort of business is it you've got?"

Thankful did not answer the question immediately. Instead she walkednearer to the desk. 

"Yes, " she said, slowly, "you're Solomon Cobb. I should know youanywhere now. And I ain't seen you for twenty year. I presume likely youdon't know me. "

The man of business stared harder than ever. He took off his spectacles, rubbed them with his handkerchief, put them on and stared again. 

"No, ma'am, I don't, " he said. "You don't live in Trumet, I know that. You ain't seen me for twenty year, eh? Twenty year is quite a spell. Andyet there's somethin' sort of--sort of familiar about you, now that Ilook closer. Who be you?"

"My name is Thankful Barnes--now. It didn't used to be. When you knewme 'twas Thankful Cahoon. My grandmother, on my father's side, was yourmother's own cousin. Her name was Matilda Myrick. That makes you and mesort of distant relations, Mr. Cobb. "

If she expected this statement to have the effect of making the littleman more cordial she was disappointed. In fact, if it had any effect atall, it was the opposite, judging by his manner and expression. His onlycomments on the disclosure of kinship were a "Humph!" and a brief "Wantto know!" He stared at Thankful and she at him. Then he said:

"Well?"

Mrs. Barnes was astonished. 

"Well?" she repeated. "What's well? What do you mean by that?"

"Nothin's I know of. You said you came to see me about some business orother. What sort of business?"

"I came to see you about gettin' some money. I need some money just nowand--"

Solomon interrupted her. 

"Humph!" he grunted. "I cal'lated as much. "

"You cal'lated it! For the land sakes--why?"

"Because you begun by sayin' you was a relation of mine. I've got a goodmany relations floatin' around loose and there ain't nary one of 'emever come to see me unless 'twas to get money. If I give money to all myrelations that asked for it I'd be a dum sight poorer'n I be now. "

Thankful was by this time thoroughly angry. 

"Look here, " she snapped. "If I'd come to you expectin' you to GIVE meany money I'd be an idiot as well as a relation. Far's that last partgoes I ain't any prouder of it than you are. "

This pointed remark had no more effect than the statement ofrelationship. Mr. Cobb was quite unruffled. 

"You came to see me, " he said, "and you ain't come afore for twentyyear--you said so. Now, when you do come, you want money, you said that, too. "

"Well, what of it?"

"Nothin' of it, 'special. Only when a party comes to me and commencesby sayin' he or she's a relation I know what's comin' next. Relations!Humph! My relations never done much for me. "

Thankful's fingers twitched. "'Cordin' to all accounts you never donemuch for them, either, " she declared. "You don't even ask 'em to sitdown. Well, you needn't worry so far's I'm concerned. Good-by. "

She was on her way out of the office, but he called her back. 

"Hi, hold on!" he called. "You ain't told me what that business was yet. Come back! You--you can set down, if you want to. "

Thankful hesitated. She was strongly tempted to go and never return. And yet, if she did, she must go elsewhere to obtain the mortgage shewished. And to whom should she go? Reluctantly she retraced her steps. 

"Set down, " said Mr. Cobb, pulling forward a chair. "Now what is it youwant?"

Mrs. Barnes sat down. "I'll tell you what I don't want, " she said withemphasis. "I don't want you to give me any money or to lend me any, either--without it's bein' a plain business deal. I ain't askin' charityof you or anybody else, Solomon Cobb. And you'd better understand thatif you and I are goin' to talk any more. "

Mr. Cobb tugged at his whiskers. 

"You've got a temper, ain't you, " he declared. "Temper's a good thingto play with, maybe, if you can afford it. I ain't rich enough, myself. I've saved a good many dollars by keepin' mine. If you don't want me togive you nor lend you money, what do you want?"

"I want you to take a mortgage on some property I own. You do takemortgages, don't you?"

More whisker pulling. Solomon nodded. 

"I do sometimes, " he admitted; "when I cal'late they're safe to take. Where is this property of yours?"

"Over in East Wellmouth. It's the old Abner Barnes place. Cap'n Abnerwilled it to me. He was my uncle. "

And at last Mr. Cobb showed marked interest. Slowly he leaned back inhis chair. His spectacles fell from his nose into his lap and lay thereunheeded. 

"What? What's that you say?" he asked, sharply. "Abner Barnes was youruncle? I--I thought you said your name was Cahoon. "

"I said it used to be afore I was married, when I knew you. AfterwardsI married Eben Barnes, Cap'n Abner's nephew. That made the captain myuncle by marriage. "

Solomon's fingers groped for his spectacles. He picked them up and tookhis handkerchief from his pocket. But it was his forehead he rubbed withhis handkerchief, not the glasses. 

"You're--you're Abner Barnes' niece!" he said slowly. 

"Yes--niece by marriage. "

"The one he used to talk so much about? What was hername--Patience--Temp'rance--"

"Thankful--that's my name. I presume likely Uncle Abner did use to talkabout me. He always declared he thought as much of me as if I was hisown child. "

There was an interval of silence. Mr. Cobb replaced his spectacles andstared through them at his visitor. His manner was peculiar--markedlyso. 

"I went mate for Cap'n Abner a good many v'yages, " he said, after amoment. 

"Yes, I know you did. "

"He--he told you so, I suppose. "

"Yes. "

"What else did he tell you; about--about me, I mean?"

"Why, nothin' 'special that I know of. Why? What was there to tell?"

"Nothin'. Nothin' much, I guess. Abner and me was sort of--sort ofchums and I didn't know but he might have said--might have told youconsiderable about me. He didn't, hey?"

"No. He told me you was his mate, that's all. "

It may have been Thankful's imagination, but it did seem as if herrelative was a trifle relieved. But even yet he did not seem quitesatisfied. He pulled at his whiskers and asked another question. 

"What made you come here to me?" he asked. 

"Mercy on us! I've told you that, haven't I? I came to see about gettin'a mortgage on his old place over to East Wellmouth. I knew you tookmortgages--at least folks said you did--and bein' as you was a relationI thought--"

A wave of the hand interrupted her. 

"Yes, yes, " broke in Solomon, hastily. "I know that. Was that the onlyreason?"

"I presume likely 'twas. I did think it was a natural one and reasonenough, but I guess THAT was a mistake. It looks as if 'twas. "

She made a move to rise, but he leaned forward and detained her. 

"There! there!" he said. "Set still, set still. So you're Abner Barnes'niece?"

"My soul! I've told you so three times. "

"Abner's niece! I want to know!"

"Well, I should think you might know by this time. Now about thatmortgage. "

"Hey? Oh, yes--yes! You want a mortgage on Abner's place over to EastWellmouth. Um! Well, I know the property and about what it's wuth--whichain't much. What are you cal'latin' to do--live there?"

"Yes, if I can carry out the plan I've got in my head. I'm thinkin' offixin' up that old place and livin' in it. I'm figgerin' to run it asa boardin'-house. It'll cost money to put it in shape and a mortgage isthe simplest way of raisin' that money, I suppose. That's the long andshort of it. "

The dealer in mortgages appeared to hear and there was no reason whyhe should not have understood. But he seemed still unsatisfied, evensuspicious. The whiskers received another series of pulls and heregarded Thankful with the same questioning stare. 

"And you say, " he drawled, "that you come to me just because--"

"Mercy on us! If you don't know why I come by this time, then--"

"All right, all right. I--I'm talkin' to myself, I guess. Course youtold me why you come. So you're cal'latin' to start a boardin'-house, eh? Risky things, boardin'-houses are. There's a couple of hundredlaunched every year and not more'n ten ever make a payin' v'yage. Let'shear what your plan is, the whole of it. "

Fighting down her impatience Thankful went into details concerning herplan. She explained why she had thought of it and her growing beliefthat it might be successful. Mr. Cobb listened. 

"Humph!" he grunted, when she had finished. "So Obed Bangs advised youto try it, hey? That don't make me think no better of it, as I know of. I know Bangs pretty well. "

"Yes, " dryly; "I supposed likely you did. Anyhow, he said he knew you. "

"He did, hey? Told you some things about me, hey?"

"No, he didn't tell me anything except that you and he had had somedealin's. Now, Mr. Cobb, we've talked a whole lot and it don't seemto me we got anywheres. If you don't want to take a mortgage on thatplace--"

"Sshh! Who said I didn't want to take it? How do I know what I want todo yet? Lord! How you women do go on! Suppose I should take a mortgageon that place--mind, I don't say I will, but suppose I should--how wouldI know that the mortgage would be paid, or the interest, or anything?"

"If it ain't paid you can foreclose when the time comes, I presumelikely. As for the interest--well, I'm fairly honest, or I try to be, and that'll be paid reg'lar if I live. "

"Ya'as. Well, fur's honesty goes, I could run a seine through OstableCounty any day in the week and load a schooner with honest folks; andthere wouldn't nary one of 'em have cash enough to pay for the wear andtear on the net. Honesty's good policy, maybe, but it takes hard moneyto pay bills. "

Thankful stood up. 

"All right, " she said, decidedly, "then I'll go where they play thehonest game. And you needn't set there and weed your face any more on myaccount. "

Mr. Cobb rose also. "There! there!" he protested. "Don't get het up. Idon't say I won't take your mortgage, do I?"

"You've said a good deal. If you say any more of the same kind you cansay it to yourself. I tell you, honest, I don't like the way you sayit. "

The owner of the "hen-house" looked as if he wished very much to retortin kind. The glare he gave his visitor prophesied direful things. Buthe did not retort; nor, to her surprise, did he raise his voice or orderher off the premises. Instead his tone, when he spoke again, was quiet, even conciliatory. 

"I--I'm sorry if I've said anything I shouldn't, " he stammered. "I'mgettin' old and--and sort of short in my talk, maybe. I--I--there'sa good many folks round here that don't like me, 'count of my doin'business in a business way, 'stead of doin' it like the average poorfool. I suppose they've been talkin' to you and you've got sort ofprejudiced. Well, I don't know's I blame you for that. I shan't holdno grudge. How much of a mortgage do you cal'late to want on Abner'splace?"

"Two thousand dollars. "

"Two thousand! . . . There, there! Hold on, hold on! Two thousanddollars is a whole lot of money. It don't grow on every bush. "

"I know that as well as you do. If I did I'd have picked it afore this. "

"Um--hm. How long a time do you want?"

"I don't know. Three years, perhaps. "

Solomon shook his head. 

"Too long, " he said. "I couldn't give as long a mortgage as that toanybody. No, I couldn't do it. . . . Tell you what I will do, " he added. "I--I don't want to act mean to a relation. I think as much of relationsas anybody does. I'd like to favor you and I will if I can. You give mea week to think this over in and then I'll let you know what I'll do. That's fair, ain't it?"

Mrs. Barnes declined the offer. 

"It may be fair to you, " she said, "but I can't wait so long. I wantto settle this afore I go back to South Middleboro. And I shall go backtomorrow, or the day after at the latest. "

Another session of "weeding. " Then said Mr. Cobb: "Well, all right, allright. I'll think it over and then I'll drive across to East Wellmouth, have another look at the property, and let you know. I'll see you dayafter tomorrow forenoon. Where you stoppin' over there?"

Thankful told him. He walked as far as the door with her. 

"Hope you ain't put out with me, ma'am, " he said. "I have to be kind ofsharp and straight up and down in my dealin's; they'd get the weathergauge on me a dozen times a day if I wa'n't. But I'm realkind inside--to them I take a notion to. I'll--I'll treat youright--er--er--Cousin Thankful; you see if I don't. I'm real glad youcome to me. Good day. "

Thankful went down the path. As she reached the sidewalk she turned andlooked back. The gentleman with the kind interior was standing peeringat her through the cracked glass of the door. He was still tugging athis whiskers and if, as he had intimated, he had "taken a notion" toher, his expression concealed the fact wonderfully. 

Captain Obed, who had evidently been on the lookout for his passenger, appeared on the platform of the store on the other side of the road. After asking if she had any other "port of call" in that neighborhood, he assisted her into the carriage and they started on their homewardtrip. The captain must have filled with curiosity concerning the widow'sinterview with Mr. Cobb, but beyond asking if she had seen the latter, he did not question. Thankful appreciated his reticence; the averagedweller in Wellmouth--Winnie S. , for instance--would have started in ona vigorous cross-examination. Her conviction that Captain Bangs was muchabove the average was strengthened. 

"Yes, " she said, "he was there. I saw him. He's a--a kind of queerperson, I should say. Do you know him real well, Cap'n Bangs?"

The captain nodded. "Yes, " he said, "I know him about as well as anybodyoutside of Trumet does. I ain't sure that anybody really knows him allthe way through. Queer!" he chuckled. "Well, yes--you might say SolCobb was queer and you wouldn't be strainin' the truth enough to start aplank. He's all that and then consider'ble. "

"What sort of a man is he?"

"Sol? Hum! Well, he's smart; anybody that beats Sol Cobb in a trade hasgot to get up a long ways ahead of breakfast time. Might stay up allnight and then not have more leeway than he'd be liable to need. "

"Yes, Yes, I'm sure he's smart in business. But is he--is he a GOODman?"

The captain hesitated before replying. 

"Git dap!" he ordered, addressing the horse. "Good? Is Sol good? Well, I cal'late that depends some on what dictionary you hunt up the wordin. He's pious, sartin. There ain't many that report on deck at themeetin'-house more reg'lar than he does. He don't cal'late to miss aprayer-meetin' and when there's a revival goin' on he's right up frontwith the mourners. Folks do say that his favorite hymn is 'I'm GladSalvation's Free' and they heave out consider'ble many hints that if'twa'n't free he wouldn't have got it; but then, that's an old joke andI've heard 'em say the same thing about other people. "

"But do you think he's honest?"

"I never heard of his doin' anything against the law. He'll skin honestyas close as he can, there ain't much hide left when he gets through; butI cal'late he thinks he's honest. And maybe he is--maybe he is. It alldepends on the definition, same as I said. Sol's pious all right. Ical'late he'd sue anybody that had a doubt as to how many days Josiahwent cabin passenger aboard the whale. His notion of Heaven may be alittle mite hazy, although he'd probably lay consider'ble stress onthe golden streets, but he's sot and definite about t'other place. Yes, siree!" he added, reflectively, "Sol is sartin there's a mightyuncomf'table Tophet, and that folks who don't believe just as he doesare bound there. And he don't mean to go himself, if 'tendin' up tomeetin' 'll keep him clear. 

"It's kind of queer to me, " he went on, slowly, "to see the numberof folks that make up their minds to be good--or what they callgood--because they're scared to be bad. Doin' right because right ISright, and lettin' the Almighty credit 'em with that, because He'sgenerally supposed to know it's right full well as they do--that ain'tenough for their kind. They have to keep hollerin' out loud how goodthey are so He'll hear and won't make any mistake in bookin' their ownparticular passage. Sort of takin' out a religious insurance policy, youmight say 'twas. . . . Humph!" he added, coming out of his reverie andlooking doubtfully at his companion, "I--I hope I ain't shocked you, ma'am. I don't mean to be irreverent, you understand. I've thoughtconsider'ble about such things and I have funny ideas maybe. "

Thankful declared that she was not shocked. She had heard but little ofher driver's long dissertation. She was thinking of her interview withMr. Cobb and the probability of his accepting her proposal and taking amortgage on her East Wellmouth property. If he refused, what shouldshe do then? And if he accepted and she went on to carry her plan intoexecution, what would be the outcome? The responsibility was heavy. Shewould be risking all she had in the world. If she succeeded, well andgood. If she failed she would be obliged to begin all over again, to tryfor another position as housekeeper, perhaps to "go out nursing" oncemore. She was growing older; soon she would be beyond middle life andentering upon the first stages of old age. And what a lonely old agehers was likely to be! Her husband was dead; her only near relative, brother Jedediah, was--well, he might be dead also, poor helpless, dreamy incompetent. He might have died in the Klondike, providing heever reached that far-off country, which was unlikely. He would havebeen but an additional burden upon her had he lived and remained athome, but he would have been company for her at least. Emily was acomfort, but she had little hope of Emily's being able to leave herschool or the family which her salary as teacher helped to support. No, she must carry her project through alone, all alone. 

She spoke but seldom and Captain Obed, noticing the change in her mannerand possibly suspecting the cause, did his best to divert her thoughtsand cheer her. He chatted continuously, like, as he declared afterwards, "a poll parrot with its bill greased. " He changed the topic from Mr. Cobb and his piety to the prospects of good fishing in the spring, fromthat to the failure of the previous fall's cranberry crop, and fromthat again to Kenelm Parker and his sister Hannah. And, after a time, Thankful realized that he was telling a story. 

CHAPTER VI

"Takin' other folks' advice about your own affairs, " began Cap'n Obed, "is like a feller readin' patent medicine circulars to find somethin'to cure a cold. Afore he gets through his symptoms have developed intobronchitis and pneumony, with gallopin' consumption dead ahead. Younever can tell what'll happen. 

"You noticed how Hannah Parker sort of riz up when Kenelm startedsmokin' yesterday? Yes, I know you did, 'cause you spoke of it. And younotice, too, how meek and lowly she laid down and give in when hekept right on doin' it. That ain't her usual way with Kenelm by aconsider'ble sight. I told you there was quite a yarn hitched to thatsmokin' business. So there is. 

"Kenelm's an old bach, you know. One time he used to work, or pretendto, because he needed the money; but his Aunt Phoebe up to Brockton diedand left him four or five thousand dollars and he ain't worked of anyaccount since. He's a gentleman now, livin' on his income--and hissister. 

"Hannah ain't got but precious little money of her own, but she knowshow to take care of it, which her brother don't. She was housekeepin'for some folks at Wapatomac, but when the inheritances landed she headedstraight for East Wellmouth, rented that little house they're in now, and took charge of Kenelm. He wa'n't overanxious to have her do it, butthat didn't make any difference. One of her pet bugaboos was that, nowher brother was well-off--'cordin' to her idea of well-offness--somedesignin' woman or other would marry him for his money. Down shecome, first train, and she's been all hands and the cook, yes, andpaymaster--with Kenelm a sort of steerage passenger, ever since. Shekeeps watch over him same as the sewin' circle does over the minister'swife, and it's 'No Anchorage for Females' around that house, I can tellyou. 

"Another of her special despisin's--next to old maids and youngwidows--used to be tobacco smoke. We had a revival preacher in EastWellmouth that first winter and he stirred up things like a stick in amudhole. He was young and kind of good-lookin', with a voice like theSkakit foghorn, and he took the sins of the world in his mouth, oneafter the other, as you might say, and shook 'em same's a pup would aSunday bunnit. He laid into rum and rum sellin', and folks fairly got inline to sign the pledge. 'Twas 'Come early and avoid the rush. ' Got sothat Chris Badger hardly dast to use alcohol in his cigar-lighter. 

"Then, havin' dried us up, that revival feller begun to smoke us out. Hepreached six sermons on the evils of tobacco, and every one was hotter'nthe last. Accordin' to him, if you smoked now you'd burn later on. Lotsof the men folks threw their pipes away, and took to chewin' slipp'ryellum. 

"Now, Kenelm smoked like a peat fire. He lit up after breakfast andpuffed steadily until bedtime, only puttin' his pipe down to eat, or torummage in his pocket for more tobacco. Hannah got him to go to one ofthe anti-tobacco meetin's. He set through the whole of it, interested ascould be. Then, when 'twas over, he stopped in the church entry toload up his pipe, and walked home with his sister, blowin' rings andscratchin' matches and talkin' loud about how fine the sermon was. He talked all next day about that sermon; said he'd go every night ifthey'd let you smoke in there. 

"So Hannah was set back a couple of rows, but she wa'n'tdiscouraged--not by a forty fathom. She got after her brother mornin', noon and night about the smokin' habit. The most provokin' part of it, so she said, was that he always agreed with her. 

"'It's ruinin' your health, ' she'd say. 

"'Yes, ' says Kenelm, lookin' solemn, 'I cal'late that's so. I've beenfeelin' poorly for over a year now. Worries me consider'ble. Pass methat plug on the top of the clock, won't you, Hannah?'

"Now what can you do with a feller like that?

"She couldn't start him with fussin' about HIS health, so she swung overon a new tack and tried her own. She said so much smoke in the housewas drivin' her into consumption, and she worked up a cough that wasa reg'lar graveyard quickstep. I heard her practicin' it once, and, Iswan, there was harps and halos all through it!

"That cough made Kenelm set up and take notice; and no wonder. Helistened to a hundred or so of Hannah's earthquakes, and then he got upand pranced out of the house. When he came back the doctor was with him. 

"Now, this wa'n't exactly what his sister was lookin' for. She didn'twant to see the doctor. But Kenelm said she'd got to have her lungssounded right off, and he guessed they'd have to use a deep-sea lead, 'cause that cough seemed to come from the foundations. He waylaid thedoctor after the examination was over and asked all kinds of questions. The doctor tried to keep a straight face, but I guess Kenelm smelt arat. 

"Anyway, Hannah coughed for a day or two more, and then her brother cometotin' in a big bottle of med'cine. 

"'There!' he says. 'That'll fix you!'

"'Where'd you get it?' says she. 

"'Down to Henry Tubman's, ' he says. 

"'Henry Tubman! What on earth! Why, Henry Tubman's a horse doctor!'

"'I know he is, ' says Kenelm, solemn as a roostin' pullet, 'but we'vebeen fishin' with the wrong bait. 'Tain't consumption that's ailin' you, Hannah; you've got the heaves. '

"So Hannah didn't cough much more, 'cause, when she did, Kenelm wouldtrot out the bottle of horse med'cine, and chuck overboard a couple ofbarrels of sarcasm. She tried openin' all the windows, sayin' she neededfresh air, but he locked himself up in the kitchen and filled that sofull of smoke that you had to navigate it by dead reckonin'--couldn'tsee to steer. So she was about ready to give up; somethin' that anybodybut a stubborn critter like her would have done long afore. 

"But one afternoon she was down to the sewin' circle, and the womenfolks there, havin' finished pickin' to pieces the characters of themembers not on hand, started in to go on about the revivals and howmuch good they was doin'. 'Most everybody had some relation, if'twa'n't nothin' more'n a husband, that had stopped smokin' and chewin'. Everybody had some brand from the burnin' to brag about--everybody butHannah; she could only set there and say she'd done her best, but thatKenelm still herded with the goats. 

"They was all sorry for her, but the only one that had any advice togive was Abbie Larkin, she that was Abbie Dillin'ham 'fore she marriedold man Larkin. Larkin had one foot in the grave when she married him, and she managed to crowd the other one in inside of a couple of yearsafterward. Abbie is a widow, of course, and she is middlin' good-lookin'and dresses pretty gay. Larkin left her a little money, but I guessshe's run through most of it by this time. The circle folks was dyin'to talk about her, but she was always on hand so early that they hardlyever got a chance. 

"Well, after supper was over, Abbie gets Hannah over in a corner, andsays she:

"'Miss Parker, ' says she, 'here's an advertisement I cut out of thepaper and saved a-purpose for you. I want you to look at it, but youmustn't tell anybody I gave it to you. '

"So Hannah unfurls the piece of newspaper, and 'twas an advertisement of'Kill-Smudge, ' the sure cure for the tobacco habit. You could give it tothe suff'rer unbeknownst to him, in his tea or soup or somethin', andin a couple of shakes he'd no more smoke than he'd lend money to hisbrother-in-law, or do any other ridic'lous thing. There was testimonialsfrom half a dozen women that had tried it, and everyone showed a cleanbill. 

"Hannah read the advertisement through twice. 'Well, I never!' says she. 

"'Yes, ' says Abbie, and smiles. 

"'Of course, ' says Hannah, lookin' scornful, 'I wouldn't think oftryin' the stuff, but I'll just take this home and read it over. It's socurious, ' she says. 

"'Ain't it?' says Abbie, and smiles some more. 

"So that night, when Kenelm sat by the stove, turnin' the air blue, hissister set at the other side of the table with that advertisement hidbehind the Wellmouth Advocate readin' and thinkin'. She wrote a letterafore she went to bed and bought a dollar's worth of stamps at thepostoffice next day. And for a week she watched the mails the way one ofthese city girls does when the summer's 'most over and eight or nine ofher fellers have finished their vacations and gone back to work. 

"About ten days after that Kenelm begins to feel kind of off his feed, so's to speak. Somethin' seemed to ail him and he couldn't make out what'twas. They'd had a good many cranberries on their bog that year andHannah'd been cookin' 'em up fast so's they wouldn't spile. But onenight she brings on a cranberry pie, and Kenelm turned up his nose atit. 

"'More of that everlastin' sour stuff!' he snorts. 'I've et cranb'riestill my stomach's puckered up as if it worked with a gath'rin' string. Take it away! I don't want it!'

"'But, Kenelm, you're always so fond of cranb'ry pie. '

"'Me? It makes me shrivel just to look at it. Pass that sugar bowl, so'sI can sweeten ship. '

"Next day 'twas salt fish and potatoes that wa'n't good. He'd beenteasin' for a salt-fish dinner for ever so long, so Hannah'd fixed upthis one just to please him, but he swallered two or three knifefuls andthen looked at her kind of sad and mournful. 

"'To think, ' says he, 'that I've lived all these years to be p'isonedfin'lly! And by my own sister, too! Well, that's what comes of bein'wuth money. Give me my pipe and let me forget my troubles. '

"'Course this kind of talk made Hannah mad, but she argued that 'twasthe Kill-Smudge gettin' in its work, so she put a double dose into histeacup that night, and trusted in Providence. 

"And the next day she noticed that he swallered hard between every pullat his pipe, and when, at last, he jumped out of his chair, let outa swear word and hove his pipe at the cat, she felt consider'bleencouraged. She thought 'twas her duty, however, to warn him againstprofane language, but the answer she got was so much more prayerful thanhis first remarks, that she come about and headed for the sittin'-roomquick. 

"Well, to make a long yarn short, the Kill-Smudge done the bus'ness. Kenelm stuck to smokin' till he couldn't read a cigar sign without hisballast shiftin', and then he give it up. And--as you might expect fromthat kind of a man--he was more down on tobacco than the Come-Outerparson himself. He even got up in revival meetin' and laid into ithammer and tongs. He was the best 'horrible example' they had, andHannah was so proud of him that she couldn't sleep nights. She stillstuck to the Kill-Smudge, though--layin' in a fresh stock every once ina while--and she dosed the tea about every other day, so's her brotherwouldn't run no danger of relapse. I'm 'fraid Kenelm didn't get any toomuch joy out of his meals. 

"And so everything was all right--'cordin' to Hannah's reckonin'--and itmight have stayed all right if she hadn't took that trip to Washington. Etta Ellis was goin' on a three weeks' cut-rate excursion, and shetalked so much about it, that Hannah got reckless and fin'lly said she'dgo, too. 

"The only thing that worried her was leavin' Kenelm. She hated to do itdreadful, but he seemed tame enough and promised to change his flannelsif it got cold, and to feed the cat reg'lar, and to stay to home, andone thing and another, so she thought 'twas safe to chance it. Shecooked up a lot of pie and frosted cake, and wrote out a kind oftime-table for him to eat and sleep by, and then cried and kissed himgood-by. 

"The first three days after she was gone Kenelm stayed 'round the houseand turned in early. He was feelin' fine, but 'twas awful lonesome. The fourth day, after breakfast, he had a cravin' to smoke. Told meafterward it seemed to him as if he MUST smoke or die of the fidgets. Atlast he couldn't stand it no longer, but turned Hannah's time-table tothe wall and went out for a walk. He walked and walked and walked. Itgot 'most dinner time and he had an appetite that he hadn't had aforefor months. 

"Just as he was turnin' into the road by the schoolhouse who should comeout on the piazza of the house on the corner but Abbie Larkin. She'dleft the door open, and the smell of dinner that blew through it wastantalizin'. Abbie was dressed in her Sunday togs and her hair wasfrizzed till she couldn't wrinkle her forehead. If the truth was known, I cal'late she'd seen Kenelm go past her house on the way downtown andwas layin' for him when he come back, but she acted dreadful surprised. 

"'Why, Mr. Parker!' says she, 'how DO you do? Seems's if I hadn'tseen you for an age! Ain't it dreadful lonesome at your house now yoursister's away?'

"Kenelm colored up some--he always h'isted danger signals when womenheave in sight--and agreed that 'twas kind of poky bein' all alone. Thenthey talked about the weather, and about the price of coal, and aboutthe new plush coat Cap'n Jabez Bailey's wife had just got, and how folksdidn't see how she could afford it with Jabez out of work, and soon. And all the time the smell of things cookin' drifted through thedoorway. Fin'lly Abbie says, says she:

"'Was you goin' home, Mr. Parker?'

"'Yes, ma'am, ' says Kenelm. 'I was cal'latin' to go home and cooksomethin' for dinner. '

"'Well, there, now!' says Abbie. 'I wonder why I didn't think of itafore! Why don't you come right in and have dinner with me? It's ALLready and there's plenty for two. DO come, Mr. Parker, to please ME!'

"'Course Kenelm said he couldn't, and, likewise, of course, he did. 'Twas a smashin' dinner--chicken and mashed potatoes and mince pie, andthe land knows what. He ate till he was full clear to the hatches, and it seemed to him that nothin' ever tasted quite so good. The widowsmiled and purred and colored up and said it seemed SO good to have aman at the table; seemed like the old days when Dan'l--meanin' the latelamented--was on deck, and so forth. 

"Then, when the eatin' was over, she says, 'I was expectin' my cousinBenjamin down for a week or so, but he can't come. He's a great smoker, and I bought these cigars for him. You might as well use them afore theydry up. '

"Afore Kenelm could stop her she rummaged a handful of cigars out of thetable drawer in the settin'-room. 

"'There!' she says. 'Light right up and be comfortable. It'll seem justlike old times. Dan'l was such a 'smoker! Oh, my!' and she gave a littlesqueal; 'I forgot you've stopped smokin'. '

"Well, there was the cigars, lookin' as temptin' as a squid to acodfish; and there was Kenelm hankerin' for 'em so his fingers twitched;and there was Abbie lookin' dreadful disapp'inted, but tryin' to makebelieve she wasn't. You don't need a spyglass to see what happened. 

"'I'd like to, ' says Kenelm, pickin' up one of the cigars. 'I'd like tomighty well, but'--here he bites off the end--''twouldn't hardly do, nowwould it? You see--'

"'I see, ' says Abbie, scratchin' a match; 'but WE'LL never tell. We'llhave it for our secret; won't we, Mr. Parker?'

"So that's how Kenelm took his first tumble from grace. He told me allabout it one day a good while afterward. He smoked three of the cigarsafore he went home, and promised to come to supper the next afternoon. 

"'You DO look so comfortable, Mr. Parker, ' purrs Abbie, as sweet andsyrupy as a molasses stopper. 'It must be SUCH a comfort to a man tosmoke. I don't care WHAT the minister says, you can smoke here just asmuch as you want to! It must be pretty hard to live in a house where youcan't enjoy yourself. I shouldn't think it would seem like home. A manlike you NEEDS a good home. Why, how I do run on!'

"Oh, there ain't really nothin' the matter with the Widow Larkin--sofur's smartness is concerned, there ain't. 

"And for five days more Kenelm ate his meals at Abbie's and smoked andwas happy, happier'n he'd been for months. 

"Meantime, Hannah and Etta was visitin' the President--that is to say, they was lookin' over the White House fence and sayin' 'My stars!' and'Ain't it elegant!' Nights, when the sightseein' was over, what they didmostly was to gloat over how mean and jealous they'd make the untraveledcommon tribe at sewin' circle feel when they got back home. They couldjust see themselves workin' on the log-cabin quilt for the next sale, and slingin' out little reminders like, 'Land sakes! What we'retalkin' about reminds me of what Etta and me saw when we was in theCongressional Libr'ry. YOU remember that, Etta?' And that would beEtta's hint to look cute and giggle and say, 'Well! I should say I DID!'And all the rest of the circlers would smile kind of unhealthy smilesand try to look as if trips to Washington wa'n't nothin'; THEY wouldn'tgo if you hired 'em to. You know the game if you've ever been to sewin'circle. 

"But all this plannin' was knocked in the head by a letter that Hannahgot on an afternoon about a week after she left home. It was short butthere was meat in it. It said: 'If you want to keep your brother frommarryin' Abbie Larkin you had better come home quick!' 'Twas signed 'AFriend. '

"Did Hannah come home? Well, didn't she! She landed at Orham the nextnight. And she done some thinkin' on the way, too. She kept out of theway of everybody and went straight up to the house. 'Twas dark and shutup, but the back door key was under the mat, as usual, so she got in allright. The plants hadn't been watered for two days, at least; the clockhad stopped; the cat's saucer was licked dry as a contribution box, andthe critter itself was underfoot every second, whoopin' for somethin'to eat. The whole thing pretty nigh broke Hannah's heart, but she wa'n'tthe kind to give up while there was a shot in the locker. 

"She went to the closet and found that Kenelm's Sunday hat and coat wasgone. Then she locked the back door again and cut acrost the lots downto Abbie's. She crept round the back way and peeked under the curtainat the settin'-room window. There set Abbie, lookin' sweet and sugary. Likewise, there was Kenelm, lookin' mighty comfortable, with a bigcigar in his mouth and more on the table side of him. Hannah gritted herteeth, but she kept quiet. 

"About ten minutes after that Chris Badger was consider'ble surprised tohear a knock at the back door of his store and to find that 'twas Hannahthat had knocked. 

"'Mr. Badger, ' says Hannah, polite and smilin', 'I want to buy a box ofthe best cigars you've got. '

"'Ma'am!' says Chris, thinkin' 'twas about time to send for theconstable or the doctor--one or t'other. 

"'Yes, ' says Hannah; 'if you please. Oh! and, Mr. Badger, please don'ttell anyone I bought 'em. PLEASE don't, to oblige me. '

"So Chris trotted out the cigars--ten cents straight, they was--and saidnothin' to nobody, which is a faculty he has when it pays to have it. 

"When Kenelm came home that night he was knocked pretty nigh off hispins to find his sister waitin' for him. He commenced a long rigmaroleabout where he'd been, but Hannah didn't ask no questions. She said thatWashington was mighty fine, but home and Kenelm was good enough for her. Said the thoughts of him alone had been with her every minute, and shejust HAD to cut the trip short. Kenelm wa'n't any too enthusiastic tohear it. 

"Breakfast next mornin' was a dream. Hannah had been up since fiveo'clock gettin' it ready. There was everything on that table that Kenelmliked 'special. And it all tasted fine, and he ate enough for four. When'twas over Hannah went to the closet and brought out a bundle. 

"'Kenelm, ' she says, 'here's somethin' I brought you that'llsurprise you. I've noticed since I've been away that about everybodysmokes--senators and judges, and even Smithsonian Institute folks. Andwhen I see how much comfort they get out of it, my conscience hurt meto think that I'd deprived my brother of what he got such a sight ofpleasure from. Kenelm, you can begin smokin' again right off. Here'sa box of cigars I bought on purpose for you; they're the kind thePresident smokes. '

"Which wa'n't a bad yarn for a church member that hadn't had any morepractice than Hannah had. 

"Well, Kenelm was paralyzed, but he lit up one of the cigars and found'twas better than Abbie's brand. He asked Hannah what she thought thechurch folks would say, but she said she didn't care what they said;her travels had broadened her mind and she couldn't cramp herself to theideas of a little narrow place like East Wellmouth. 

"Dinner that day was a bigger meal than breakfast, and two of the cigarswent fine after it. Kenelm hemmed and hawed and fin'lly said that hewouldn't be home to supper; said he'd got to go downtown and would get abite at the Trav'lers' Rest or somewheres. It surprised him to find thatHannah didn't raise objections, but she didn't, not a one. Just smiledand said, 'All right, ' and told him to have a good time. And Abbie'ssupper didn't seem so good to him that night, and her cigars--bein' fivecenters--wa'n't in it with that Washington box. 

"Hannah didn't have dinner the next day until two o'clock, but 'twasworth waitin' for. Turkey was twenty-three cents a pound, but she hadone, and plum puddin', too. She kept pressin' Kenelm to have a littlemore, so 'twas after three when they got up from the table. 

"'Twas a rainy, drizzly afternoon and the stove felt mighty homey andcozy. So did the big rocker that Hannah transplanted from the parlor tothe settin'-room. That chair had been a kind of sacred throne afore, andto set in it had been sort of sacrilegious, but there 'twas, and Kenelmdidn't object. And those President cigars certainly filled the bill. 

"About half-past five Kenelm got up and looked out of the window. Therain come spattin' against the pane and the wind whined and soundedmean. Kenelm went back to the chair again. Then he got up and tookanother observation. At last he goes back to the chair, stretcheshimself out, puts his feet against the stove, pulls at the cigar, andsays he:

"'I was cal'latin' to go downtown on a bus'ness trip, same's I did lastnight. But I guess, ' he says--'I guess I won't. It's too comfort'blehere, ' says he. 

"And I cal'late, " said Captain Obed, in conclusion, "that afore Hannahturned in that night she gave herself three cheers. She'd gained atack on Abbie Larkin that had put Abbie out of the race, for that time, anyhow. "

"But who sent the 'friend' letter?" asked Thankful, whose thoughts hadbeen diverted from her own troubles by hearing those of Miss Parker. 

The captain laughed. 

"That's a mystery, even yet, " he said. "I'm pretty sure Hannah thinks'twas Elvira Paine. Elvira lives acrost the road from Abbie Larkin and, bein' a single woman with mighty little hopes of recovery, naturallymight be expected to enjoy upsettin' anybody else's chance. But, atany rate, Mrs. Barnes, the whole thing bears out what I said at thebeginnin': takin' other folks' advice about your own affairs is mightyrisky. I hope, if you do go ahead with your boardin'-house plan, itwon't be because I called it a good one. "

Thankful smiled and then sighed. "No, " she said, "if I go ahead withit it'll be because I've made up my mind to, not on account of anybodyelse's advice. I've steered my own course for quite a long spell and Isha'n't signal for a pilot now. Well, here we are home again--or at EastWellmouth anyhow. "

"So we be. Better come right to Hannah's along with me, hadn't you? Youmust have had enough of the Holt Waldorf-Astory by this time. "

But Thankful insisted upon going to the hotel and there her newfriend--for she had begun to think of him as that--left her. Sheinformed him of her intention to remain in East Wellmouth for anotherday and a half and he announced his intention of seeing her again beforeshe left. 

"Just want to keep an eye on you, " he said. "With all of Mrs. Holt'stemptin' meals set afore you you may get gout or somethin' fromovereatin'. Either that or Winnie S. 'll talk you deef. I feel a kindof responsibility, bein' as I'm liable to be your next-door neighborif that boardin'-house does start up, and I want you to set sail with aclean bill of health. If you sight a suspicious-lookin' craft, kindof antique in build, broad in the beam and makin' heavy weather up thehills--if you sight that kind of craft beatin' down in this directiontomorrow you'll know it's me. Good day. "

Thankful lay awake for hours that night, thinking, planning andreplanning. More than once she decided that she had been too hasty, thather scheme involved too great a risk and that, after all, she had betterabandon it. But each time she changed her mind and at last fell asleepdetermining not to think any more about it, but to wait until Mr. Cobbcame to accept or decline the mortgage. Then she would make a finaldecision. 

The next day passed somehow, though it seemed to her as if it neverwould, and early the following forenoon came Solomon himself. The man ofbusiness was driving an elderly horse which bore a faint resemblanceto its owner, being small and thin and badly in need of a hairdresser'sservices. If the animal had possessed whiskers and could have tugged atthem Thankful was sure it would have done it. 

Solomon tugged at his own whiskers almost constantly during thatforenoon. He and Mrs. Barnes visited the "Captain Abner place" andSolomon inspected every inch of its exterior. For some reason orother he absolutely refused to go inside. His conversation during theinspection was, for the most part, sniffs and grunts, and it was notuntil it was ended and they stood together at the gate, that he spoke tothe point, and then only because his companion insisted. 

"Well!" said Thankful. 

Mr. Cobb "weeded. "

"Eh?" he said. 

"That's what I say--eh? What are you goin' to do about that mortgage, Mr. Cobb?"

More weeding. Then: "Waal, I--I don't cal'late to want to beunreasonable nor nothin', but I ain't real keen about takin' no mortgageon that property; not myself, I ain't. "

"Well, it is yourself I'm askin' to take it. So you won't, hey? Allright; that's all I wanted to know. "

"Now--now--now, hold on! Hold on! I ain't sayin' I WON'T take it. I--I'dlike to be accommodatin', 'specially to a relation. But--"

"Never mind the relation business. I found out what you thinkof relations afore you found out I was one. And I ain't askin'accommodation. This is just plain business, seems to me. Will you let mehave two thousand dollars on a mortgage on this place?"

Mr. Cobb fidgeted. "I couldn't let you have that much, " he said. "Icouldn't. I--I--" he wrenched the next sentence loose after what seemeda violent effort, "I might let you have half of it--a thousand, say. "

But Thankful refused to say a thousand. That was ridiculous, shedeclared. By degrees, and a hundred at a time, Solomon raised his offerto fifteen hundred. This being the sum Mrs. Barnes had considered in thefirst place--and having asked for the two thousand merely because of herjudgment of human nature--she announced that she would think over theoffer. Then came the question of time. Here Mr. Cobb was firm. Threeyears--two years--he would not consider. At last he announced thathe would take a one-year mortgage on the Barnes property for fifteenhundred dollars; and that was all he would do. 

"And I wouldn't do that for nobody else, " he declared. "You bein' myrelation I don't know's it ain't my duty as a perfessin' Christianto--to help you out. I hadn't ought to afford it, but I'm willin' to goso far. "

Thankful shook her head. "I'm glad you said, 'PROFESSIN' Christian. '"she observed. "Well, " drawing a long breath, "then I suppose I've gotto say yes or no. . . . And I'll say yes, " she added firmly. "And we'llcall it settled. "

They parted before the hotel. She was to return to South Middleboro thatafternoon. Mr. Cobb was to prepare the papers and forward them for hersignature, after which, upon receipt of them duly signed, he would sendher the fifteen hundred dollar check. 

Solomon climbed into the buggy. "Well, good-by, " he said. "I hope you'lldo fust-rate. The interest'll be paid regular, of course. I'm realpleased to meet you--er--Cousin Thankful. Be sure you sign them papersin the right place. Good-by. Oh--er--er--sometimes I'll be droppin'in to see you after you get your boardin'-house goin'. I come to EastWellmouth once in a while. Yes--yes--I'll come and see you. You can tellme more about Captain Abner, you know. I'd--I'd like to hear what hesaid to you about me. Good-by. "

That afternoon, once more in the depot-wagon, which had been refittedwith its fourth wheel, Thankful, on her way to the Wellmouth railwaystation, passed her "property. " The old house, its weather-beatenshingles a cold gray in the half-light of the mist-shrouded, sinkingsun, looked lonely and deserted. A chill wind came from the sea and thesurf at the foot of the bluff moaned and splashed and sighed. 

Thankful sighed also. 

"What's the matter?" asked Winnie S. 

"Oh, nothin' much. I wish I was a prophet, that's all. I'd like to beable to look ahead a year. "

Winnie S. Whistled. "Judas priest!" he said. "So'd I. But if I'd seemyself drivin' this everlastin' rig-out I'd wished I hadn't looked. Idon't know's I'd want to see ahead as fur's that, after all. "

Thankful sighed again. "I don't know as I do, either, " she admitted. 

CHAPTER VII

March, so to speak, blew itself out; April came and went; May was here. And on the seventeenth of May the repairs on the "Cap'n Abner place"were completed. The last carpenter had gone, leaving his shavings andchips behind him. The last painter had spilled his last splash of painton the sprouting grass beneath the spotless white window sills. The lastpaper-hanger had departed. Winnie S. Was loading into what he called a"truck wagon" the excelsior and bagging in which the final consignmentof new furniture had been wrapped during its journey from Boston. Aboutthe front yard Kenelm Parker was moving, rake in hand. In the kitchenImogene, the girl from the Orphans' Home in Boston, who had been engagedto act as "hired help, " was arranging the new pots and pans on thecloset shelf and singing "Showers of Blessings" cheerfully if nottunefully. 

Yes, the old "Cap'n Abner place" was rejuvenated and transformed and onthe following Monday it would be the "Cap'n Abner place" no longer: itwould then become the "High Cliff House" and open its doors to hoped-forboarders, either of the "summer" or "all-the-year" variety. 

The name had been Emily Howes' choice. She and Mrs. Barnes had carriedon a lengthy and voluminous correspondence and the selection of a namehad been left to Emily. To her also had been intrusted the selection ofwallpapers, furniture and the few pictures which Thankful had felt ableto afford. These were but few, for the cost of repairing and refittinghad been much larger than the original estimate. The fifteen hundreddollars raised on the mortgage had gone and of the money obtained by thesale of the cranberry bog shares--Mrs. Pearson's legacy--nearly half hadgone also. Estimates are one thing and actual expenditures are another, a fact known to everyone who has either built a house or rebuilt one, and more than once during the repairing and furnishing process Thankfulhad repented of her venture and wished she had not risked the plunge. But, having risked it, backing out was impossible. Neither was itpossible to stop half-way. As she said to Captain Obed, "There's enoughhalf-way decent boardin'-houses and hotels in this neighborhood now. There's about as much need of another of that kind as there is of anicehouse at the North Pole. Either this boardin'-house of mine must bethe very best there can be, price considered, or it mustn't be at all. That's the way I look at it. "

The captain had, of course, agreed with her. His advice had beeninvaluable. He had helped in choosing carpenters and painters and it wasowing to his suggestion that Mrs. Barnes had refrained from engaging anEast Wellmouth young woman to help in the kitchen. 

"You could find one, of course, " said the captain. "There's two or threeI could think of right off now who would probably take the job, but twoout of the three wouldn't be much account anyhow, and the only one thatwould is Sarah Mullet and she's engaged to a Trumet feller. Now letalone the prospect of Sarah's gettin' married and leavin' you 'mostany time, there's another reason for not hirin' her. She's theeverlastin'est gossip in Ostable County, and that's sayin' somethin'. What Sarah don't know about everybody's private affairs she guesses andshe always guesses out loud. Inside of a fortnight she'd have all youever done and a whole lot you never thought of doin' advertised fromRace P'int to Sagamore. She's a reg'lar talkin' foghorn, if there wassuch a thing--only a foghorn shuts down in clear weather and SHE don'tshut down, day or night. Talks in her sleep, I shouldn't wonder. If Iwas you, Mrs. Barnes, I wouldn't bother with any help from 'round here. I'd hire a girl from Boston, or somewheres; then you could be skipper ofyour own ship. "

Thankful, after thinking the matter over, decided that the advice wasgood. The difficulty, of course, was in determining the "somewhere" fromwhich the right sort of servant, one willing to work for a small wage, might be obtained. At length she wrote to a Miss Coffin, once a nurse inMiddleboro but now matron of an orphans' home in Boston. Miss Coffin'sreply was to the effect that she had, in her institution, a girl whomight in time prove to be just the sort which her friend desired. 

Of course [she wrote], she isn't at all a competent servant now, butshe is bright and anxious to learn. And she is a good girl, althoughsomething of a character. Her Christian name is Marguerite, at leastshe says it is. What her other name is goodness only knows. She has beenwith us now for nearly seven years. Before that she lived with and tookcare of a drunken old woman who said she was the girl's aunt, though Idoubt if she was. Suppose I send her to you on trial; you can send herback to us if she doesn't suit. It would be a real act of charity togive her a chance, and I think you will like her in spite of her funnyways. 

This doubtful recommendation caused Thankful to shake her head. She hadgreat confidence in Miss Coffin's judgment, but she was far from certainthat "Marguerite" would suit. However, guarded inquiries in Wellmouthand Trumet strengthened her conviction that Captain Obed knew what hewas talking about, and, the time approaching when she must have somesort of servant, she, at last, in desperation wrote her friend to send"the Marguerite one" along for a month's trial. 

The new girl arrived two days later. Winnie S. Brought her down in thedepot-wagon, in company with her baggage, a battered old valise and anancient umbrella. She clung to each of these articles with a death grip, evidently fearful that someone might try to steal them. She appearedto be of an age ranging from late sixteen to early twenty, and had aturned-up nose and reddish hair drawn smoothly back from her foreheadand fastened with a round comb. Her smile was of the "won't come off"variety. 

Thankful met her at the back door and ushered her into the kitchen, theroom most free from workmen at the moment. 

"How do you do?" said the lady. "I'm real glad to see you. Hope you hada nice trip down in the cars. "

"Lordy, yes'm!" was the emphatic answer, accompanied by a brilliantsmile. "I never had such a long ride in my life. 'Twas just like bein'rich. I made believe I WAS rich most all the way, except when a man setdown in the seat alongside of me and wanted to talk. Then I didn't makebelieve none, I bet you!"

"A man?" grinned Thankful. "What sort of a man?"

"I don't know. One of the railroad men I guess 'twas; anyhow he wasa fresh young guy, with some sort of uniform hat on. He asked me if Ididn't want him to put my bag up in the rack. He said you couldn't betoo careful of a bag like that. I told him never mind my bag; it waswhere it belonged and it stayed shut up, which was more'n you could sayof some folks in this world. I guess he understood; anyhow he beat it. Lordy!" with another smile. "I knew how to treat HIS kind. Miss Coffin'stold me enough times to look out for strange men. Is this where I'mgoin' to live, ma'am?"

"Why--why, yes; if you're a good girl and try hard to please and tolearn. Now--er--Marguerite--that's your name, isn't it?"

"No, ma'am, my name's Imogene. "

"Imo--which? Why! I thought you was Marguerite. Miss Coffin hasn't sentanother girl, has she?"

"No, ma'am. I'm the one. My name used to be Marguerite, but it's goin'to be Imogene now. I've wanted to change for a long while, but up thereto the Home they'd got kind of used to Marguerite, so 'twas easier tolet it go at that. I like Imogene lots better; I got it out of a book. "

"But--but you can't change your name like that. Isn't Marguerite yourreal name?"

"No'm. Anyhow I guess 'tain't. I got that out of a book, too. Lordy, "with a burst of enthusiasm, "I've had more names in my time! My AuntBridget she called me 'Mag' when she didn't make it somethin' worse. Andwhen I first came to the Home the kids called me 'Fire Alarm, ' 'cause myhair was red. And the cook they had then called me 'Lonesome, ' 'cause Iguess I looked that way. And the matron--not Miss Coffin, but the otherone--called me 'Maggie. ' I didn't like that, so when Miss Coffin showedup I told her I was Marguerite. But I'd rather be Imogene now, if youain't particular, ma'am. "

"Why--um--well, I don't know's I am; only seems to me I'd settle on oneor t'other and stay put. What's your last name?"

"I ain't decided. Montgomery's a kind of nice name and so's St. John, or Wolcott--there used to be a Governor Wolcott, you know. I s'pose, nowI'm out workin' for myself, I ought to have a last name. Maybe you canpick one out for me, ma'am. "

"Humph! Maybe I can. I've helped pick out first names for babies in mytime, but pickin' out a last name for anybody would be somethin' new, I will give in. But I'll try, if you want me to. And you must try to dowhat I want and to please me. Will you promise me that?"

"Lordy, yes'm!"

"Um! Well, you might begin by tryin' not to say 'Lordy' quite so manytimes. That would please me, for a start. "

"All right'm. I got in the habit of sayin' it, I guess. When I firstcome to the Home I used to say, 'God sakes, ' but the matron didn't likethat. "

"Mercy on us! I don't wonder. Well--er--Imogene, now I'll show you thehouse and your room and all. I hope you like 'em. "

There was no doubt of the liking. Imogene was delighted with everything. When she was shown the sunny attic bedroom which was to be hers sheclapped her hands. 

"It's elegant, ma'am, " she cried. "Just grand! OH! it's too splendid tobelieve and yet there ain't any make-believe in it. Lordy! Excuse me, ma'am, I forgot. I won't say it again. I'll wait and see what you sayand then I'll say that. And now, " briskly, "I guess you think it's timeI was gettin' to work. All right, I can work if I ain't got no otheraccomplishments. I'm all ready to begin. "

As a worker she was a distinct success. There was not a lazy bone in herenergetic body. She was up and stirring each morning at five o'clockand she evinced an eager willingness to learn that pleased Mrs. Barnesgreatly. Her knowledge of cookery was limited, and deadly, but asThankful had planned to do most of the cooking herself, for thefirst season at least, this made little difference. Altogether theproprietress of the High Cliff House was growing more and more sure thather female "hired help" was destined to prove a treasure. 

"I am real glad you like it here so well, Imogene, " she said, at the endof a fortnight. "I was afraid you might be lonesome, down here so farfrom the city. "

Imogene laughed. "Who? Me?" she exclaimed. "I guess not, ma'am. Don'tcatch me bein' lonesome while there's folks around I care about. I waslonesome enough when I first came to the Home and the kids used tomake fun of me. But I ain't lonesome now, with you so kind and nice. Noindeedy! I ain't lonesome and I ain't goin' to be. You watch!"

Captain Obed heartily approved of Imogene. Of Kenelm Parker asman-of-all-work his approval was much less enthusiastic. He had beenaway attending to his fish weirs, when Kenelm was hired, and the bargainwas made before he returned. It was Hannah Parker who had recommendedher brother for the position. She had coaxed and pleaded and, at last, Thankful had consented to Kenelm's taking the place on trial. 

"You'll need a nice, trustworthy man to do chores, " said Hannah. "NowKenelm's honest; there ain't a more honest, conscientious man in EastWellmouth than my brother, if I do say it. Take him in the matter ofthat umbrella he lost the night you first came, Mrs. Barnes. Take that, for instance. He'd left it or lost it somewheres, he knew that, and theordinary person would have been satisfied; but not Kenelm. No sir-ee!He hunted and hunted till he found that umbrella and come fetchin' of ithome. 'Twas a week afore he did that, but when he did I says, 'Well, ' Isays, 'you have got more stick-to-it than I thought you had. You--'"

"Where did he find it?" interrupted Thankful. 

"Land knows! He didn't seem to know himself--just found it, he said. He acts so sort of upsot and shameful about that umbrella that he andI don't talk about it any more. But it did show that he had a sense ofresponsibleness, and a good one. Anybody that'll stick to and persecutea hunt for a lost thing the way he done will stick to a job the sameway. Don't you think so yourself, Mrs. Barnes?"

Thankful was not convinced, but she yielded. When she told Captain Bangshe laughed and observed: "Yup, well, maybe so. Judgin' by other jobsKenelm's had he'll stick to this one same as he does to his bed ofa Sunday mornin'--lay down on it and go to sleep. However, I presumelikely he ought to have the chance. Of course Hannah's idea is plainenough. Long's he's at work over here, she can keep an eye on him. Andit's a nice, satisfactory distance from the widow Larkin, too. "

So Kenelm came daily to work and did work--some. When he did not healways had a plausible excuse. As a self-excuser he was a shining light. 

Thankful had, during the repairs on the house, waited more or lessanxiously for developments concerning the mystery of the little backbedroom. Painters and paperhangers had worked in that room as in others, but no reports of strange sounds, or groans, or voices, had come fromthere. During the week preceding the day of formal opening Thankfulherself had spent her nights in that room, but had not heard nor seenanything unusual. She was now pretty thoroughly convinced that the stormhad been responsible for the groans and that the rest had been due toher imagination. However, she determined to let that room and the largerone adjoining last of all; she would take no chances with the lodgers, she couldn't afford it. 

Among the equipment of the High Cliff House or its outbuildings were ahorse, a pig, and a dozen hens and two roosters. Captain Obed boughtthe horse at Mrs. Barnes' request, a docile animal of a sedate age. Asecond-hand buggy and a second-hand "open wagon" he also bought. Thepig and hens Thankful bought herself in Trumet. She positively wouldnot consent to the pig's occupying the sty beneath the woodshed andadjoining the potato cellar, so a new pen was built in the hollow atthe rear of the house. Imogene was tremendously interested in thelive-stock. She begged the privilege of naming each animal and fowl. Mrs. Barnes had been encouraging the girl to read literature moresubstantial than the "Fireside Companion" tales in which she hadhitherto delighted, and had, as a beginning, lent her a volume of UnitedStates history, one of several discarded schoolbooks which Emily Howessent at her cousin's request. Imogene was immensely interested in thehistory. She had just finished the Revolution and the effect of herreading was evident when she announced the names she had selected. 

The horse, being the most important of all the livestock, she christenedGeorge Washington. The pig was named Patrick Henry. The largest henwas Martha Washington. "As to them two roosters, " she explained, "I didthink I'd name the big handsome one John Hancock and the littlest oneGeorge Three. They didn't like each other, ma'am, that was plain at thestart, so I thought they'd ought to be on different sides. But the veryfirst fight they had George pretty near licked the stuffin' out of John, so I've decided to change the names around. That ought to fix it; don'tyou think so, ma'am?"

On the seventeenth the High Cliff House was formally opened. It wasmuch too early to expect "summer" boarders, but there were three of thepermanent variety who had already engaged rooms. Of these the first wasCaleb Hammond, an elderly widower, and retired cranberry grower, whosewife had died fifteen years before and who had been "boarding around" inWellmouth Centre and Trumet ever since. Caleb was fairly well-to-do andalthough he had the reputation of being somewhat "close" in many mattersand "sot" in his ways, he was a respected member of society. He selecteda room on the second floor--not a front room, but one on the sidelooking toward the Colfax estate. The room on the other side, across thehall, was taken by Miss Rebecca Timpson, who had taught the "upstairs"classes in the Wellmouth school ever since she was nineteen, aconsiderable period of time. 

The large front rooms, those overlooking the bluff and the sea, Thankfulhad intended reserving for guests from the city, but when Mr. HemanDaniels expressed a wish to engage and occupy one of them, that on theleft of the hall, she reconsidered and Mr. Daniels obtained his desire. It was hard to refuse a personage like Mr. Daniels anything. He was notan elderly man; neither was he, strictly speaking, a young one. His agewas, perhaps, somewhere in the late thirties or early forties and he wasEast Wellmouth's leading lawyer, in fact its only one. 

Heman was a bachelor and rather good-looking. That his bachelorhood wasa matter of choice and not necessity was a point upon which all of EastWellmouth agreed. He was a favorite with the ladies, most of them, and, according to common report, there was a rich widow in Bayport whowould marry him at a minute's notice if he gave the notice. So far, apparently, he had not given it. He was a "smart" lawyer, everyone saidthat, and it is probable that he himself would have been the last todeny the accusation. He was dignified and suave and gracious, alsopersuasive when he chose to be. 

He had been boarding with the Holts, but, like the majority of the hotellodgers and "mealers, " was very willing to change. The location of theHigh Cliff House was, so he informed Thankful, the sole drawback to itsavailability as a home for him. 

"If a bachelor may be said to have a home, Mrs. Barnes, " he added, graciously. "However, I am sure even an unfortunate single person likemyself may find a real home under your roof. You see, your reputationhad preceded you, ma'am. Ha, ha! yes. As I say, the location is the onlypoint which has caused me to hesitate. My--er--offices are on the MainRoad near the postoffice and that is nearly a mile from here. But, we'llwaive that point, ma'am. Six dollars a week for the room and seven formeals, you say. Thirteen dollars--an unlucky number: Ha, ha! Suppose wecall it twelve and dodge the bad luck, eh? That would seem reasonable, don't you think?"

Thankful shook her head. "Altogether too reasonable, Mr. Daniels, I'mafraid, " she replied. "I've cut my rates so close now that I'm afraidthey'll catch cold in bad weather. Thirteen dollars a week may beunlucky, but twelve would be a sight more unlucky--for me. I can let youhave a side room, of course, and that would be cheaper. "

But Mr. Daniels did not wish a side room; he desired a front roomand, at last, consented to pay the regular rate for it. But when thearrangement was concluded Thankful could not help feeling that she hadtaken advantage of an unworldly innocence. 

Captain Obed Bangs, when she told him, reassured her. 

"Don't worry, ma'am, " he said. "I wouldn't lay awake nights fearin' I'dgot ahead of Heman Daniels much. If you have got ahead of him you're theonly person I ever see that did, and you ought to be proud instead ofashamed. And I'd get him to make his offer in writin' and you lock upthe writin'. "

"Why! Why, Captain Obed! How you do talk! You don't mean that Mr. Daniels is a cheat, do you? You don't mean such a thing as THAT?"

The captain waved a protesting hand. 

"No, no, " he declared. "I wouldn't call any lawyer a cheat. That's tooone-sided a deal to be good business. The expense of hirin' counsel isall on one side if it ever comes to a libel suit. And besides, I don'tthink Daniels is a cheat. I never heard of him doin' anything thatwa'n't legally honest. He's sharp and he's smart, but he's straightenough. I was only jokin', Mrs. Barnes. Sometimes I think I ought tohang a lantern on my jokes; then folks would see 'em quicker. "

So Mr. Daniels came, and Mr. Hammond came, and so also did Miss Timpson. The first dinner was served in the big dining-room and it was a success, everyone said so. Beside the boarders there were invited guests, CaptainBangs and Hannah Parker, and Kenelm also. It was a disappointment toThankful, although she kept the disappointment to herself, the factthat the captain had not shifted what he called his "moorings" to herestablishment. She had hoped he might; she liked him and she believedhim to be just the sort of boarder she most desired. It may be that he, too, was disappointed. What he said was:

"You see, ma'am, I've been anchorin' along with Hannah and Kenelm nowfor quite a spell. They took me in when 'twas a choice betweenmessin' at the Holt place or eatin' grass in the back yard like KingNebuchadnezzar. Hannah don't keep a reg'lar boardin'-house but she doessort of count on me as one of the family, and I don't feel 'twould beright to shift--not yet, anyhow. But maybe I can pilot other craft intoHigh Cliff Harbor, even if I don't call it my own home port. "

That first dinner was a bountiful meal. Miss Parker expressed thegeneral opinion, although it was expressed in her own way, when shesaid:

"My sakes alive, Mrs. Barnes! If THIS is the way you're goin' to feedyour boarders right along then I say it's remarkable. I've been up toBoston a good many times in my life, and I've been to Washington once, but in all MY experience at high-toned hotels I never set down toa better meal. It's a regular Beelzebub's feast, like the one inScriptur'--leavin' out the writin' on the wall of course. "

Kenelm ate enough for two and then, announcing that he couldn't heaveaway no more time, having work to do, retired to the rear of the barnwhere, the rake beside him, he slumbered peacefully for an hour. 

"There!" said Thankful to Imogene that night. "We've started anyhow. And'twas a good start if I do say it. "

"Good!" exclaimed Imogene. "I should say 'twas good! But if themboarders eat as much every day as they have this one 'twon't be astart, 'twill be a finish. Lor--I mean mercy on us, ma'am--if this is aboardin'-house I'd like to know what a palace is. Why a king never hadbetter grub served to him. Huh! I guess he didn't. Old George Three usedto eat gruel, like a--like a sick orphan at the Home. Oh, he did, ma'am, honest! I read about it in one of them history books you lent me. He wasa tight-wad old gink, he was. Are you goin' to give these guys as muchevery meal, ma'am?"

"I mean to, of course, " declared Mrs. Barnes. "Nobody shall starve at mytable. And please, Imogene, don't call people ginks and guys. That ain'tnice talk for a young woman. "

Imogene apologized and promised to be more careful. But she thought agreat deal and, at the end of the first week, she imparted her thoughtsto Captain Obed. 

"Say, Captain Bangs, " she said, "do you know what is the matter withthe name of this place? I tell you what I think is the matter. It hadn'tought to be the HIGH Cliff House. The CHEAP Cliff House would be a sightbetter. Givin' guys--folks, I mean--fifteen-dollar-a-week board forseven dollars may be mighty nice for them, but it's plaguy poor businessfor Mrs. Thankful. "

The captain shook his head; he had been thinking, too, and hisconclusions were much the same. 

"You mustn't find fault with Mrs. Barnes, Imogene, " he said. "She's amighty fine woman. "

"Fine woman! You bet she is! She's too plaguy fine, that's the troublewith her. She's so afraid her boarders'll starve that she forgets allabout makin' money. She's the best woman there is in the world, but sheneeds a mean partner. Then the two of them might average up all right, Iguess. "

Captain Obed rubbed his chin. "Think she needs a business manager, eh?"he observed. 

Imogene nodded emphatically. "She needs two of them, " she declared. "Oneto manage the place and another to keep that Parker man workin'. He caneat more and talk more and work less than any guy ever I see. Why, he'dspend half his time in this kitchen gassin' with me, if I'd let him. Butyou bet I don't let him. "

The captain thought more and more during the days that followed. Atlength he wrote a letter to Emily Howes at South Middleboro. In it heexpressed his fear that Mrs. Barnes, although in all other respectsperfect, was a too generous "provider" to be a success as aboarding-house keeper in East Wellmouth. 

She'll have boarders enough, you needn't worry about that, [he wrote]but she'll lose money on every one. I've tried to hint, but she don'ttake the hint, and it ain't any of my affair, rightly speaking, so Ican't speak out plain. Can't you write her a sort of warning afore it'stoo late? Or better still, can't you come down here and talk to her? Iwish you would. Excuse my nosing in and writing you this way, please. I'm doing it just because I want to see her win out in the race, that'sall. I wish you'd answer this pretty prompt, if you don't mind. 

But the reply he hoped for did not come and he began to fear that he hadmade a bad matter worse by writing. Doubtless Miss Howes resented his"nosing in. "

Thankful now began advertising in the Boston papers. And the answers tothe ads began to arrive. Sometimes men and women from the city came downto inspect the High Cliff House, preparatory to opening negotiations forsummer quarters. They inspected the house itself, interviewed Thankful, strolled along the bluff admiring the view, and sampled a meal. Then, almost without exception, they agreed upon terms and selected rooms. That the house would be full from top to bottom by the first of Julywas now certain. But, as Imogene said to Captain Bangs, "If we lose fivedollars a week on everyone of 'em that ain't nothin' to hurrah about, seems to me. "

The captain had not piloted any new boarders to the High Cliff. Perhapshe thought, under the circumstances, this would be a doubtful kindness. But the time came when he did bring one there. And the happeningsleading to that result were these:

It was a day in the first week in June and Captain Obed, having businessin Wellmouth Centre, had hired George Washington, Mrs. Barnes' horse, and the buggy and driven there. The business done he left the placidGeorge moored to a hitching-post by the postoffice and strolled over tothe railway station to watch the noon train come in. 

The train was, of course, late, but not very late in this instance, andthe few passengers alighted on the station platform. The captain, seatedon the baggage-truck, noticed one of these passengers in particular. Hewas a young fellow, smooth-faced and tall, and as, suitcase in hand, heswung from the last car and strode up the platform it seemed to CaptainObed as if there was something oddly familiar in that stride and theset of his square shoulders. His face, too, seemed familiar. The captainfelt as if he should recognize him--but he did not. 

He came swinging on until he was opposite the baggage-truck. Then hestopped and looked searchingly at the bulky form of the man seated uponit. He stepped closer and looked again. Then, with a twinkle in hisquiet gray eye, he did a most amazing thing--he began to sing. Tosing--not loudly, of course, but rather under his breath. And this iswhat he sang:

 "Said all the little fishes that swim there below: 'It's the Liverpool packet! Good Lord, let her go!'"

To the average person this would have sounded like the wildest insanity. But not to Captain Obed Bangs of East Wellmouth. The captain sprang fromthe truck and held out his hand. 

"Johnnie Kendrick!" he shouted. "It's Johnnie Kendrick, I do believe!Well, I swan to man!"

The young man laughed, and, seizing the captain's hand, shook itheartily. 

"I am glad you do, " he said. "If you hadn't swanned to man I should havebeen afraid there was more change in Captain Obed Bangs than I cared tosee. Captain Obed, how are you?"

Captain Obed shook his head. "I--I--" he stammered. "Well, I cal'late mytimbers are fairly strong if they can stand a shock like this. JohnnieKendrick, of all folks in the world!"

"The very same, Captain. "

"And you knew me right off! Well done for you, John! Why, it's all oftwenty odd year since you used to set on a nail keg in my boathouseand tease me into singing the Dreadnought chanty. I remember that. Goodland! I ought to remember the only critter on earth that ever ASKED meto sing. Ho! ho! but you was a little towheaded shaver then; and nowlook at you! What are you doin' away down here?"

John Kendrick shook his head. "I don't know that I'm quite sure myself, Captain, " he said. "I have some suspicions, of course, but they may notbe confirmed. First of all I'm going over to East Wellmouth; so justexcuse me a minute while I speak to the driver of the bus. "

He was hurrying away, but his companion caught his arm. 

"Heave to, John!" he ordered. "I've got a horse and a buggy here myself, such as they are, and unless you're dead sot on bookin' passage inWinnie S. 's--what did you call it?--bust--I'd be mighty glad to have youmake the trip along with me. No, no. 'Twon't be any trouble. Come on!"

Five minutes later they were seated in the buggy and George Washingtonwas jogging with dignified deliberation along the road toward EastWellmouth. 

"And why, " demanded Captain Obed, "have you come to Wellmouth again, after all these years?"

Mr. Kendrick smiled. 

"Well, Captain Bangs, " he said, "it is barely possible that I've comehere to stay. "

"To stay! You don't mean to stay for good?"

"Well, that, too, is possible. Being more or less optimistic, we'll hopethat if I do stay it will be for good. I'm thinking of living here. "

His companion turned around on the seat to stare at him. 

"Livin' here!" he repeated. "You? What on earth--? What are you goin' todo?"

The passenger's eyes twinkled, but his tone was solemn enough. 

"Nothing, very likely, " he replied. "That's what I've been doing forsome time. "

"But--but, the last I heard of you, you was practicin' law over to NewYork. "

"So I was. That, for a young lawyer without funds or influence, is asnear doing nothing as anything I can think of. "

"But--but, John--"

"Just a minute, Captain. The 'buts' are there, plenty of them. Before wereach them, however, perhaps I'd better tell you the story of my life. It isn't exciting enough to make you nervous, but it may explain a fewthings. "

He told his story. It was not the story of his life, his whole life, byany means. The captain already knew the first part of that life. He hadknown the Kendricks ever since he had known anyone. Every person inEast Wellmouth of middle age or older remembered when the two brothers, Samuel Kendrick and Bailey Kendrick--Bailey was John's father--lived inthe village and were the "big" men of the community. Bailey was the moreimportant and respected at that time, for Samuel speculated in stocksa good deal and there were seasons when he was so near bankruptcy thatgossip declared he could not pass the poorhouse without shivering. Ifit had not been for his brother Bailey, so that same gossip affirmed, he would most assuredly have gone under, but Bailey lent him money andhelped him in many ways. Both brothers were widowers and each had a son;but Samuel's boy Erastus was fifteen years older than John. 

The families moved from Wellmouth when John was six years old. They wentWest and there, so it was said, the positions of the brothers changed. Samuel's luck turned; he made some fortunate stock deals and becamewealthy. Bailey, however, lost all he had in bad mining ventures andsank almost to poverty. Both had been dead for years now, but Samuel'sson, Erastus--he much preferred to be called E. Holliday Kendrick--wasa man of consequence in New York, a financier, with offices on BroadStreet and a home on Fifth Avenue. John, the East Wellmouth people hadlast heard of as having worked his way through college and law schooland as practicing his profession in the big city. 

So much Captain Bangs knew. And John Kendrick told him the rest. Theroad to success for a young attorney in New York he had found hard anddiscouraging. For two years he had trodden it and scarcely earned enoughto keep himself alive. Now he had decided, or practically decided, togive up the attempt, select some small town or village and try his luckthere. East Wellmouth was the one village he knew and remembered withliking. So to East Wellmouth he had come, to, as Captain Obed describedit, "take soundin's and size up the fishin' grounds. "

"So there you are, Captain, " he said, in conclusion. "That is why I amhere. "

The captain nodded reflectively. 

"Um--yes, " he said. "I see; I see. Well, well; and you're figgerin' onbein' a lawyer here--in East Wellmouth?"

Mr. Kendrick nodded also. "It may, and probably will be, pretty closefiguring at first, " he admitted, "but at least there will be no moreciphers in the sum than there were in my Manhattan calculations. Honestly now, Captain Bangs, tell me--what do you think of the idea?"

The captain seemed rather dubious. 

"Humph!" he grunted. "Well, I don't know, John. East Wellmouth ain't avery big place. "

"I know that. Of course I shouldn't hope to do much in East Wellmouthalone. But it seemed to me I might do as other country lawyers havedone, have an office--or a desk--in several other towns and be in thosetowns on certain days in the week. I think I should like to live in EastWellmouth, though. It is--not to be sentimental but just truthful--theone place I remember where I was really happy. And, as I remember too, there used to be no lawyer there. "

Captain Obed's forehead puckered. 

"That's just it, John, " he said. "There is a lawyer here now. Good dealof a lawyer, too--if you ask HIM. Name's Heman Daniels. You used to knowhim as a boy, didn't you?"

Kendrick nodded assent. 

"I think I did, " he said. "Yes, I remember him. He was one of the bigboys when I was a little one, and he used to bully us small chaps. "

"That's the feller. He ain't changed his habits so much, neither. Buthe's our lawyer and I cal'late he's doin' well. "

"Is he? Well, that's encouraging, at any rate. And he's the only lawyeryou have? Only one lawyer in a whole town. Why in New York I couldn'tthrow a cigar stump from my office window without running the risk ofhitting at least two and starting two damage suits. "

The captain chuckled. 

"I presume likely you didn't throw many, " he observed. "That would beexpensive fun. "

"It would, " was the prompt reply. "Cigars cost money. "

They jogged on for a few minutes in silence. Then said Captain Obed:

"Well, John, what are you plannin' to do first? After we get into port, I mean. "

"I scarcely know. Look about, perhaps. Possibly try out a boarding-houseand hunt for a prospective office. By the way, Captain, you don't happento know of a good, commodious two by four office that I could hire at atwo by four figure, do you? One not so far from the main street thatI should wear out an extravagant amount of shoe leather walking to andfrom it?"

More reflection on the captain's part. Then he said:

"Well, I don't know as I don't. John, I'll tell you: I've got a buildin'of my own. Right abreast the post-office; Henry Cahoon has been usin'it for a barber-shop. But Henry's quit, and it's empty. The location'spretty good and the rent--well, you and me wouldn't pull hair over therent question, I guess. "

"Probably not, but I should insist on paying as much as your barberfriend did. This isn't a charity proposition I'm making you, CaptainBangs. Oh, let me ask this: Has this--er--office of yours got a goodfront window?"

"Front window! What in time--? Yes, I guess likely the front window'sall right. But what does a lawyer want of a front window?"

"To look out of. About all a young lawyer does is look out of thewindow. Now about a boarding-place?"

Captain Obed had been waiting for this question. 

"I've got a boardin'-place for you, John, " he declared. "The office Imay not be so sartin about, but the boardin'-place I am. There ain't abetter one this side of Boston and I know it. And the woman who keeps itis--well, you take my word for it she's all RIGHT. "

His passenger regarded him curiously. 

"You seem very enthusiastic, Captain, " he observed, with a smile. 

Captain Bangs' next remark was addressed to the horse. He gruffly badethe animal "gid-dap" and appeared a trifle confused. 

"I am, " he admitted, after a moment. "You'll be, too, when you see her. "

He described the High Cliff House and its owner. Mr. Kendrick asked theterms for board and an "average" room. When told he whistled. 

"That isn't high, " he said. "For such a place as you say this is it isvery low. But I am afraid it is too high for me. Isn't there any otherestablishment where they care for men--and poor lawyers?"

"Yes, there is, but you shan't go to it, not if I can stop you. Youcome right along with me now to the High Cliff and have dinner. Yes, youwill. I ain't had a chance to treat you for twenty year and I'm goin'to buy you one square meal if I have to feed you by main strength. Don'tyou say another word. There! There's east Wellmouth dead ahead of us. And there's the High Cliff House, too. Git dap, Father of your Country!See! He's hungry, too, and he knows what he'll get, same as I do. "

They drove into the yard of Mrs. Barnes' "property" and Thankfulherself met them at the door. Captain Obed introduced his passenger andannounced that the latter gentleman and he would dine there. The ladyseemed glad to hear this, but she seemed troubled, too. When she and thecaptain were alone together she disclosed the cause of her trouble. 

"I'm afraid I'm goin' to lose my best boarder, " she said. "Mr. Danielssays he's afraid he must take his meals nearer his place of business. And, if he does that, he'll get a room somewheres uptown. I'm awfulsorry. He's about the highest payin' roomer I have and I did think hewas permanent. Oh, dear!" she added. "It does seem as if there was justone thing after the other to worry me. I--I don't seem to be makin' bothends meet the way I hoped. And--and lookin' out for everything myself, the way I have to do, keeps me stirred up all the time. I feel almostsort of discouraged. I know I shouldn't, so soon, of course. It's--it'sbecause I'm tired today, I guess likely. "

"Yes, I guess likely 'tis. Tired! I shouldn't wonder? It ain't any of myaffairs at all, Mrs. Barnes, and I beg your pardon for sayin' it, butif you don't have some good capable person to take some of the care andmanagin' of this place off your shoulders you'll be down sick afore thesummer's through. "

Thankful sighed, and then smiled. "I know I need help, the right kind ofhelp, just as well as you do, Cap'n Bangs, " she said. "But I know, too, that I can't afford to pay for it, so I must get along best I canwithout it. As for gettin' sick--well, I can't afford that, either. "

At dinner John Kendrick met Mr. Heman Daniels and Miss Timpson and CalebHammond. All three were evidently very curious concerning the businesswhich had brought the young man to East Wellmouth, but their curiositywas not satisfied. Kendrick himself refused to notice hints andinsinuations and, though he talked freely on most subjects, would nottalk of his own affairs. Captain Obed, of course, disclosed nothing ofthe knowledge he had gained. So the table talk dealt mainly with thechanges in the village since John was a boy there, and of old times andold residents long gone. 

Mr. Daniels was very gracious and very affable. He spoke largely ofcases intrusted to his care, of responsibilities and trusts, and if theguest gained the idea that Mr. Daniels was a very capable and prosperouslawyer indeed--if he gained such an idea and did not express it, howcould Heman be expected to contradict?

After dinner--Kendrick informed his friend it was one of the best he hadever eaten--he and the captain walked over to the village, where theyspent the afternoon wandering about, inspecting the ex-barber-shop anddiscussing chances and possibilities. The young man was still doubtfulof East Wellmouth's promise of professional opportunities. He shouldlike to live there, he said, and he might decide to do so, but as yethe had not so decided. He seemed more pessimistic than during the drivedown from the station. Captain Obed, however, and oddly enough, was muchmore optimistic than he had been at first. 

"I don't know, John, " he said, "but I ain't sure you couldn't makegood, and pretty good, too, by settlin' here. This section needs a goodlawyer. "

"Another good lawyer you mean. Daniels is here, remember. Judging by hisremarks this noon he is very much here. "

"Um--yes, I know. If you take his remarks at the value he marks 'em withhe's the whole bank and a safe-deposit vault hove in. But I wouldn'twonder if those remarks was subject to a discount. Anyhow I know mightywell there's a lot of folks in this town--good substantial folks, too--who don't like him. They hire him once in a while because thereain't another lawyer short of Trumet and that's quite a ways. But maybethey'd be mighty glad to shift if there was a chance right at hand. Don't you strike the colors yet awhile. Think it over first. "

He insisted upon Kendrick's returning to the High Cliff House thatnight. "I want Mrs. Barnes to show you the room she's got vacant, " hesaid. "Ain't no harm lookin' at a brindle calf, as the feller said; youdon't have to buy the critter unless you want to. "

So Mr. Kendrick inspected the rooms and expressed himself as delightedwith them. 

"They're all right in every respect, Captain, " he declared. "And thefood is more than that. But the price--although it's surprisingly lowconsidering the value offered--is too steep for me. I'm afraid, ifI should locate here, for a trial trip, I couldn't afford to becomfortable and I shouldn't expect to. "

Captain Bangs remained to take supper with his friend. The mealover, they and the rest of the boarders were seated in the bigliving-room--once Captain Abner's "best parlor"--when there came fromoutside the rattle of wheels and the voice of Winnie S. Shouting "Whoa!"to General Jackson. 

Thankful, who had been in the kitchen superintending Imogene, who waslearning rapidly, came hurrying to the front door. The group in theparlor heard her utter an exclamation, an exclamation of surprise anddelight. There were other exclamations, also in a feminine voice, and the sounds of affectionate greetings. Then Mrs. Barnes, her facebeaming, ushered into the living-room a young woman. And this youngwoman was her cousin, Emily Howes. 

Captain Obed rose to greet her. 

"Well, I swan to man, Miss Howes!" he cried. "This IS a surprise! Ididn't know you was due for a v'yage in this latitude. "

Thankful laughed. "Neither did I, " she declared. "It's as big a surpriseto me as it is to you, Cap'n. She didn't write me a word. "

Emily laughed. 

"Of course I didn't, Auntie, " she said. "I wanted to surprise you. Butyou're glad to see me, aren't you?"

"GLAD! I don't believe I was ever so glad to see anybody in MY life. "

"We're all glad to see you, Miss Howes, " announced the captain. "Comedown to make us a little visit, hey?"

"Oh, more than a little one. You can't escape so easily. I am going tostay all summer at least, perhaps longer. There, Aunt Thankful, what doyou think of that?"

CHAPTER VIII

What Thankful thought of it was evidenced by the manner in which shereceived the news. She did not say much, then, but the expression ofrelief and delight upon her face was indication sufficient. She didask a number of questions: Why had Emily come then, so long before herschool closed? How was it that she could leave her teaching? Why hadn'tshe written? And many others. 

Miss Howes answered the questions one after the other. She had come inMay because she found that she could come. 

"I meant to come the very first moment it was possible for me to do so, "she said. "I have been more interested in this new project of yours, Auntie, than anything else in the world. You knew that; I told youso before I left and I have written it many times since. I came nowbecause--well, because--you mustn't be alarmed, Auntie; there is nothingto be frightened about--but the school committee seemed to feel that Ineeded a change and rest. They seemed to think that I was not as well asI should be, that I was tired, was wearing myself out; that is the waythey expressed it. It was absurd, of course, I am perfectly well. Butwhen they came to me and told me that they had decided to give me avacation, with pay, until next fall, and even longer if I felt that Ineeded it, you may be sure I didn't refuse their kind offer. I thankedthem and said yes before they could have changed their minds, even ifthey had wished to. They said I should go into the country. That wasjust where I wanted to go, and so here I am, IN the country. Aren't youglad?"

"Glad! Don't talk! But, Emily, if you ain't well, don't you think--"

"I am well. Don't say another word about that. And, Oh, the things Imean to do to help you, Aunt Thankful!"

"Help me! Indeed you won't! You'll rest and get strong again, that'swhat you'll do. I don't need any help. "

"Oh, yes, you do. I know it. "

"How do you know?"

For just an instant Emily glanced at Captain Bangs. The captain's faceexpressed alarm and embarrassment. He was standing where Mrs. Barnescould not see him and he shook his head warningly. Miss Howes' eyestwinkled, but she did not smile. 

"Oh, I knew!" she repeated. 

"But HOW did you know? I never wrote you such a thing, sartin. "

"Of course you didn't. But I knew because--well, just because. Everyonewho takes boarders needs help. It's a--it's a chronic condition. Now, Auntie, don't you think you could find some supper for me? Not much, but just a little. For an invalid ordered to the country I am awfullyhungry. "

That was enough for Thankful. She seized her cousin by the arm andhurried her into the dining-room. A few moments later she reappeared toorder Miss Howes' trunk carried upstairs to the "blue room. "

"You'll have to excuse me, folks, " she said, addressing her guests. "I know I didn't introduce you to Emily. I was so flustered and--andtickled to see her that I forgot everything, manners and all. Soon'sshe's had a bite to eat I'll try to make up. You'll forgive me, won'tyou?"

When she had gone Captain Obed was bombarded with questions. Who was theyoung lady? Where did she come from? If she was only a cousin, why didshe call Mrs. Barnes "Auntie"? And many others. 

Captain Obed answered as best he could. 

"She's real pretty, isn't she, " affirmed Miss Timpson. "I don't knowwhen I've seen a prettier woman. Such eyes! And such hair! Ah hum!When I was her age folks used to tell me I had real wonderful hair. Youremember that, don't you, Mr. Hammond?"

Mr. Hammond chuckled. "I remember lots of things, " he observeddiplomatically. 

"You think she's pretty, don't you, Mr. Daniels?" persisted MissTimpson. 

East Wellmouth's legal light bowed assent. "A--ahem--a very strikingyoung lady, " he said with dignity. He had scarcely taken his eyes fromthe newcomer while she was in the room. John Kendrick said nothing. 

When Emily and Thankful returned to the living-room there wereintroductions and handshakings. And, following these, a generalconversation lasting until ten o'clock. Then Miss Howes excused herself, saying that she was a bit tired, bade them all good night and went toher room. 

Captain Obed left soon afterward. 

"Well, John, " he said to his friend, as they stood together on the frontstep, "what do you think of this for a boardin'-house? All I prophesied, ain't it?"

Kendrick nodded. "All that, and more, " he answered, emphatically. 

"Like Mrs. Barnes, don't you?"

"Very much. No one could help liking her. "

"Um-hm. Well, I told you that, too. And her niece--cousin, I mean--isjust as nice as she is. You'll like her, too, when you know her. . . . Eh?"

"I didn't speak, Captain. "

"Oh, didn't you? Well, it's high time for me to be headin' for home. Hannah'll be soundin' the foghorn for me pretty soon. She'll think I'VEbeen tagged by Abbie Larkin if I don't hurry up and report. See you inthe mornin', John. Good night. "

The next forenoon he was on hand, bright and early, and he and Kendrickwent over to the village on another tour of inspection. Captain Obed wasextremely curious to know whether or not his friend had made up hismind to remain in East Wellmouth, but, as the young man himself did notvolunteer the information, the captain asked no questions. They walkedup and down the main road until dinner time. John said very little, andwas evidently thinking hard. Just before twelve Captain Bangs did ask aquestion, his first one. 

"Well, John, " he said, looking up at the clock in the steeple of theMethodist Church, "it's about time for us to be thinkin' about takin' incargo. Where shall we eat this noon? At the High Cliff again, or do youwant to tackle Darius Holt's? Course you understand I'm game for 'mostanything if you say so, and 'most anything's what we're liable to getat that Holt shebang. I don't want you to think I've got any personalgrudge. When it comes to that I'm--ho! ho!--well, I'm a good deal in theframe of mind Kenelm Parker was at the revival meetin' some year ago. Kenelm just happened in and took one of the back seats. The minister--hewas a stranger in town--was walkin' up and down the aisles tryin' toinfluence the mourners to come forward. He crept up on Kenelm frombehind, when he wa'n't expected, and says he, 'Brother, ' he says, 'doyou love the Lord?' Kenelm was some took by surprise and his wits wasin the next county, I cal'late. 'Why--why--' he stammers. 'I ain't gotnothin' AG'IN' Him. ' Ho! ho! That's the way I feel about Darius Holt. I don't love his hotel, but I ain't got nothin' ag'in' him. What do yousay?"

Kendrick hesitated. 

"The Holt board is cheaper, isn't it?" he asked. 

"Yup. It costs less and it's wuth it. "

"Humph! Well--well, I guess we may as well go back to the High CliffHouse. "

Captain Obed was much surprised, but he said nothing. 

At dinner there was a sprightly air of cheerfulness and desire to pleaseamong the boarders. Everyone talked a good deal and most of the remarkswere addressed to Miss Howes, who sat at the foot of the table, oppositeher cousin. Thankful noticed the change and marveled at it. Dinners hadhitherto been rather hurried and silent affairs. Miss Timpson usuallyrushed through the meal in order to get back to her school. Mr. Daniels'habit was to fidget when Imogene delayed serving a course, to look athis watch and hint concerning important legal business which neededprompt attention. Caleb Hammond's conversation too often was confinedto a range bordered by rheumatism on the one hand and bronchitis on theother. 

Now all this was changed. No one seemed in a hurry, no one appearedto care what the time might be, and no one grumbled. Mr. Daniels wasparticularly affable and gracious; he even condescended to joke. He waswearing his best and newest suit and his tie was carefully arranged. Emily was in high spirits, laughed at the jokes, whether they were newor old, and seemed to be very happy. She had been for a walk along thebluff, and the sea breeze had crimsoned her cheeks and blown her hairabout. She apologized for the disarrangement of the hair, but evenMiss Timpson--her own tresses as smooth as the back of a hairclothsofa--declared the effect to be "real becomin'. " Heman Daniels, who, being a bachelor, was reported to be very particular in such matters, heartily concurred in this statement. Mr. Hammond said it reminded himsome of Laviny Marthy's hair. "Laviny Marthy was my wife that was, " headded, by way of explanation. John Kendrick said very little; in fact, he was noticeably silent during dinner. Miss Timpson said afterward:"That Mr. Kendrick isn't much of a talker, is he? I guess he's what theycall a good listener, for he seemed to be real interested, especiallywhen Miss Howes was talkin'. He'd look at her and look at her, and timeand time again I thought he was goin' to say somethin', but he didn't. "

He was not talkative when alone with Captain Obed that afternoon. Theypaid one more visit to the building "opposite the postoffice" and whilethere he asked a few questions concerning the rent. The figure named bythe captain was a low one and John seemed to think it too low. "I'm notasking charity, " he declared. "At least you might charge me enough topay for the paint I may rub off when I open the door. "

But Captain Obed obstinately refused to raise his figure. "I've chargedenough to risk what paint there is, " he announced. "If I charged moreI'd feel as if I had to paint fresh, and I don't want to do that. What'sthe matter with you, John? Want to heave your money away, do you? Betterkeep the odd change to buy cigars. You can heave them away, if you wantto--and you won't be liable to hit many lawyers neither. "

At supper time as they stood by the gate of the High Cliff House thecaptain, who was to eat at his regular boarding-place, the Parkers', that evening, ventured to ask the question he had been so anxious toask. 

"Well, John?" he began. 

"Well, Captain?"

"Have you--have you made up your mind yet?"

Kendrick turned over, with his foot, a stone in the path. 

"I--" he paused and turned the stone back again. Then he drew a longbreath. "I must make it up, " he said, "and I can do it as well now as aweek later, I suppose. Wherever I go there will be a risk, a big risk. Captain Bangs, I'll take that risk here. If you are willing to letme have that office of yours for six months at the figure you havenamed--and I think you are crazy to do it--I will send for my trunk andmy furniture and begin to--look out of the window. "

Captain Obed was delighted. "Shake, John, " he exclaimed. "I'm tickledto death. And I'll tell you this: If you can't get a client no other wayI'll--I'll break into the meetin'-house and steal a pew or somethin'. Then you can defend me. Eh . . . And now what about a place for you toeat and sleep?" he added, after a moment. 

The young man seemed to find the question as hard to answer as theother. 

"I like it here, " he admitted. "I like it very much indeed. But I musteconomize and the few hundred dollars I have scraped together won't--"

He was interrupted. Emily Howes appeared at the corner of the housebehind them. 

"Supper is ready, " she called cheerfully. 

Both men turned to look at her. She was bareheaded and the western sunmade her profile a dainty silhouette, a silhouette framed in the spungold of her hair. 

"John's comin', Miss Emily, " answered the captain. "He'll be rightthere. "

Emily waved her hand and hurried back to the dining-room door. Mr. Kendrick kicked the stone into the grass. 

"I think I may as well remain here, for the present at least, " he said. "After all, there is such a thing as being too economical. A chap can'talways make a martyr of himself, even if he knows he should. "

The next morning Mrs. Barnes, over at the village on a marketingexpedition, met Captain Bangs on his way to the postoffice. 

"Oh, Cap'n, " she said, "I've got somethin' to tell you. 'Tain't bad newsthis time; it's good. Mr. Heman Daniels has changed his mind. He's goin'to keep his room and board with me just as he's been doin'. Isn't thatsplendid!"

The sewing circles and the club and the noon and evening groups at thepostoffice had two new subjects for verbal dissection during the nextfortnight. This was, in its way, a sort of special Providence, forthis was the dull season, when there were no more wrecks alongshore orschooners aground on the bars, and the boarders and cottagers from thecities had not yet come to East Wellmouth. Also the opening of the HighCliff House was getting to be a worn-out topic. So Emily Howes, herappearance and behavior, and John Kendrick, HIS behavior and hisastonishing recklessness in attempting to wrest a portion of the countylaw practice from Heman Daniels, were welcomed as dispensations anddiscussed with gusto. 

Emily came through the gossip mill ground fine, but with surprisinglylittle chaff. She was "pretty as a picture, " all the males agreedupon that point. And even the females admitted that she was "kind ofgood-lookin', " although Hannah Parker's diagnosis that she was "declinedto be consumptic" and Mrs. Larkin's that she was older than she "madeout to be, " had some adherents. All agreed, however, that she knew howto run a boarding-house and that she was destined to be the "salvation"of Thankful Barnes' venture at the Cap'n Abner place. 

Certainly she did prove herself to possess marked ability as a businessmanager. Quietly, and without undue assertion, she reorganized theaffairs of the High Cliff House. No one detected any difference inthe quality of the meals served there, in their variety or amplesufficiency. But, little by little, she took upon herself the buying ofsupplies, the regulation of accounts, the prompt payment of bills andthe equally prompt collection of board and room rent. Thankful found thecares upon her shoulders less and less heavy, and she was more free todo what she was so capable of doing, that is, superintend the cookingand the housekeeping. 

But Thankful herself was puzzled. 

"I don't understand it, " she said. "I've always had to look out formyself, and others, too. There ain't been a minute since I can rememberthat I ain't had somebody dependent upon me. I cal'lated I could run aboardin'-house if I couldn't do anything else. But I'm just as sure as Iam that I'm alive that if you hadn't come when you did I'd have run thisone into the ground and myself into the poorhouse. I don't understandit. "

Emily smiled and put her arm about her cousin's waist. "Oh, no, youwouldn't, Auntie, " she said. "It wasn't as bad as that. You needed help, that was all. And you are too generous and kind-hearted. You were alwaysfearful that your boarders might not be satisfied. I have been teachingbookkeeping and accounting, you see, and, besides, I have lived in afamily where the principal struggle was to satisfy the butcher and thebaker and the candlestick maker. This is real fun compared to that. "

Thankful shook her head. 

"I know, " she said; "you always talk that way, Emily. But I'm afraidyou'll make yourself sick. You come down here purpose for your health, you know. "

Emily laughed and patted Mrs. Barnes' plump shoulder. 

"Health!" she repeated. "Why, I have never been as well since I canremember. I couldn't be sick here, in this wonderful place, if I tried. Do you think I look ill? . . . Oh, Mr. Daniels!" addressing the lawyer, who had just entered the dining-room, "I want your opinion, as a--aspecialist. Auntie is afraid I am ill. Don't you think I look about aswell as anyone could look?"

Heman bowed. "If my poor opinion is worth anything, " he observed, "Ishould say that to find fault with your appearance, Miss Howes, wouldbe like venturing to--er---paint the lily, as the saying is. I might saymore, but--ahem--perhaps I had better not. "

Judging by the young lady's expression he had said quite enough already. 

"Idiot!" she exclaimed, after he had left the room. "I ask him asensible question and he thinks it necessary to answer with a sillycompliment. Thought I was fishing for one, probably. Why will men besuch fools--some men?"

Mr. Daniels' opinion concerning his professional rival was asked a goodmany times during that first fortnight. He treated the subject as hedid the rival, with condescending toleration. It was quite plain thathe considered his own position too secure to be shaken. In fact, hisfeeling toward John Kendrick seemed to be a sort of kindly pity. 

"He appears to be a very well-meaning young man, " he said, in reply toone of the questions. "Rash, of course; very young men are likely to berash--and perhaps more hopeful than some of us older and--ahem--wiserpersons might be under the same circumstances. But he is well-meaningand persevering. I have no doubt he will manage to pick up a few crumbs, here and there. I may be able to throw a few in his way. There arealways cases--ah--which I can't--or don't wish to--accept. "

When this remark was repeated to Captain Obed the latter sniffed. 

"Humph!" he observed, "I don't know what they are. I never see a caseHeman wouldn't accept, if there was as much as seventy-five cents init. If bananas was a nickel a bunch the only part he'd throw in anybodyelse's way would be the skins. "

John, himself, did not seem to mind or care what Mr. Daniels or anyoneelse said. He wrote a letter to New York and, in the course of time, a second-hand desk, a few chairs, and half a dozen cases of law booksarrived by freight and were installed in the ex-barber-shop. The localsign-painter perpetrated a sign with "John Kendrick, Attorney-at-law"upon it in gilt letters, and the "looking out of the window" reallybegan. 

And that was about all that did begin for days and days. Each morning orafternoon, Sundays excepted, Captain Bangs would drop in at the officeand find no one there, no one but the tenant, that is. The latter, seated behind the desk, with a big sheepskin-bound volume spread openupon it, was always glad to see his visitor. Their conversations werecharacteristic. 

"Hello, John!" the captain would begin. "How are the clients comin'?"

"Don't know, Captain. None of them has as yet got near enough so that Icould see how he comes. "

"Humph! I want to know. Mr. John D. Jacob Vanderbilt ain't cruisedin from Newport to put his affairs in your hands? Sho'! He's prettyshort-sighted, ain't he?"

"Very. He's losing valuable time. "

"Well, I expected better things of him, I must say. Ain't gettin'discouraged, are you, John?"

"No, indeed. If there was much discouragement in my make-up I shouldhave stopped before I began. How is the fish business, Captain?"

"Well, 'tain't what it ought to be this season of the year. Say, John, couldn't you subpoena a school of mackerel for me? Serve an order ofthe court on them to come into my weirs and answer for their sins, orsomethin' like that? I'd be willin' to pay you a fairly good fee. "

On one occasion the visitor asked his friend what he found to do all thelong days. "Don't study law ALL the time, do you, John?" he queried. 

Kendrick shook his head. "No, " he answered, gravely. "Between studies Ienjoy the view. Magnificent view from this window, don't you think?"

Captain Obed inspected the "view. " The principal feature in thelandscape was Dr. Jameson's cow, pastured in the vacant lot between thedoctor's home and the postoffice. 

"Very fine cow, that, " commented the lawyer. "An inspiring creature. I spend hours looking at that cow. She is a comfort to my philosophicsoul. "

The captain observed that he wanted to know. 

"Yes, " continued Kendrick. "She is happy; you can see that she is happy. Now why?"

"'Cause she's eatin' grass, " declared Captain Obed, promptly. 

"That's it. Good for you! You have a philosophic soul yourself, Captain. She is happy because she has nothing to do but eat, and there is plentyto eat. That's my case exactly. I have nothing to do except eat, andat Mrs. Barnes' boarding-house there is always enough, and more thanenough, to eat. The cow is happy and I ought to be, I suppose. If MYfood was furnished free of cost I should be, I presume. "

Kenelm Parker heard a conversation like the foregoing on one occasionand left the office rubbing his forehead. 

"There's two lunatics in that place, " he told the postmaster. "And ifI'd stayed there much longer and listened to their ravin's there'd havebeen another one. "

Kenelm seemed unusually contented and happy in his capacity asman-of-all-work at the High Cliff House. Possibly the fact that therewas so very little real work to do may have helped to keep him in thisframe of mind. He had always the appearance of being very busy; a rakeor a hoe or the kindling hatchet were seldom out of reach of his hand. He talked a great deal about being "beat out, " and of the care andresponsibility which were his. Most of these remarks were addressed toImogene, to whom he had apparently taken a great fancy. 

Imogene was divided in her feelings toward Mr. Parker. 

"He's an awful interestin' talker, " she confided to Emily. "Every timehe comes into this kitchen I have to watch out or he'll stay and talktill noontime. And yet if I want to get him to do somethin' or otherhe is always chock full of business that can't wait a minute. I like tohear him talk--he's got ideas on 'most every kind of thing--but I haveto work, myself. "

"Do you mean that he doesn't work?" asked Emily. 

"I don't know whether he does or not. I can't make out. If he don'the's an awful good make-believe, that's all I've got to say. One timeI caught him back of the woodpile sound asleep, but he was hanging ontothe axe just the same. Said he set up half the night before worryin'for fear he mightn't be able to get through his next day's work, and thewant of rest had been too much for him. Then he started in to tell meabout his home life and I listened for ten minutes before I come toenough to get back to the house. "

"Do you think he is lazy, Imogene?"

"I don't know. He says he never had no chance and it might be that's so. He says the ambition's been pretty well drove out of him, and I guess ithas. I should think 'twould be. The way that sister of his nags at himall the time is enough to drive out the--the measles. "

Imogene and Hannah Parker, as Captain Obed said, "rubbed each other thewrong way. " Hannah was continually calling to see her brother, probably to make sure that he was there and not in the dangerous Larkinneighborhood. Imogene resented these visits--"usin' up Mrs. Thankful'stime, " she said they were--and she and Hannah had some amusing clashes. Miss Parker was inclined to patronize the girl from the Orphan's Home, and Imogene objected. 

"Well, " observed Hannah, on one occasion, "I presume likely you find itnice to be down here, where folks are folks and not just 'inmates. ' Itmust be dreadful to be an 'inmate. '"

Imogene sniffed. "There's all kinds of inmates, " she said, "same asthere's all kinds of folks. Far's that goes, there's some folks couldn'tbe an inmate, if they wanted to. They wouldn't be let in. "

"Oh, is that so? Judgin' by what I've seen I shouldn't have thought themthat run such places was very particular. Where's Kenelm?"

"I don't know. He's to work, I suppose. That's what he's hired for, theytell me. "

"Oh, indeed! Well, " with emphasis, "he doesn't have to work, unlesshe wants to. My brother has money of his own, enough to subsideon comf'tably, if he wanted to do it. His comin' here is just toaccommodate Mrs. Barnes, that's all. Where is he?"

"Last I saw of him he was accommodatin' the horse stall. He may beuptown by this time, for all I know. "

"Uptown?" in alarm. "What would he be uptown for? He ain't got anybusiness there, has he?"

"Search ME. Good many guys--folks, I mean--seem to be always hangin''round where they haven't business. Well, I've got some of my own and Iguess I'd better attend to it. Good mornin', ma'am. "

Miss Howes cautioned Imogene against arousing the Parkers' enmity. 

"Lordy! I mean mercy sakes, ma'am, " exclaimed Imogene, "you needn't beafraid so far as Kenelm's concerned. I do boss him around some, when Ithink it's needful, but it ain't my bossin' that worries him, it's thatHannah woman's. He says she's at him all the time. Don't give him thepeace of his life, he says. He's a misunderstood man, he tells me. Maybehe is; there are such, you know. I've read about 'em in stories. "

Emily smiled. "Well, " she said, "I wouldn't drive him too hard, if Iwere you, Imogene. He isn't the hardest worker in the world, but he doesdo some work, and men who can be hired to work about a place in summerare scarce here in East Wellmouth. You must be patient with him. "

"Lor--land sakes! I am. But he does make me cross. He'd be settin' in mykitchen every evenin' if I'd let him. Don't seem to want to go home. Idon't know's I blame him for that. You think I ought to let him set, Isuppose, Miss Howes?"

"Why, yes, if he doesn't annoy you too much. We must keep him contented. You must sacrifice your own feelings to help Aunt Thankful. You would bewilling to make some sacrifice for her, wouldn't you?"

"You bet your life I would! She's the best woman on earth, Mrs. Barnesis. I'd do anything for her, sacrifice my head, if that was worth fivecents to anybody. All right, he can set if he wants to. I--I supposeI might improve his mind, hey, ma'am? By readin' to him, I mean. Mrs. Thankful, she's been givin' me books to improve my mind; perhaps they'dimprove his if I read 'em out loud to him. His sister prob'ly won't likeit, but I don't care. You couldn't improve HER mind; she ain't got any. It all run off the end of her tongue long ago. "

By the Fourth of July the High Cliff House was filled with boarders. Every room was taken, even the little back bedroom and the big roomadjoining it. These were taken by a young couple from Worcester and, ifthey heard any unusual noises in their apartment, they did not mentionthem. Thankful's dread of that little room had entirely disappeared. She was now thoroughly convinced that her imagination and the storm wereresponsible for the "spooks. "

John Kendrick continued to sleep and eat at the new boarding-house. Hewas a general favorite there, although rather silent and disinclined totake an active part in the conversation at table. He talked more withEmily Howes than with anyone and she and he were becoming very friendly. Emily, Thankful and Captain Obed Bangs were the only real friends theyoung man had; he might have had more, but he did not seem to care forthem. With these three, however, and particularly with Emily, he waseven confidential, speaking of his professional affairs and prospects, subjects which he never mentioned to others. 

These--the prospects--were brighter than at first. He had acceptedone case and refused another. The refusal came as a surprise to EastWellmouth and caused much comment. Mr. Chris Badger was a passenger onthe train from Boston and that train ran off the track at Buzzard'sBay. No one was seriously hurt except Mr. Badger. The latter gentlemanpurchased a pair of crutches and limped about on them, proclaiminghimself a cripple for life. He and Heman Daniels had had a disagreementover a business matter so Chris took his damage suit against therailroad to John Kendrick. And John refused it. 

Captain Obed, much disturbed, questioned his friend. 

"Land of love, John!" he said. "Here you've been roostin' here, lookin'out of this window and prayin' for a job to come along. Now one doescome along and you turn it down. Why?"

Kendrick laughed. "I'm cursed with a strong sense of contrast, Captain, "he replied. "Those crutches are too straight for me. "

The captain stared. "Straight!" he repeated. "All crutches are straight, ain't they?"

"Possibly; but some cripples are crooked. "

So it was to Mr. Daniels, after all, that the damage suit came, andHeman brought about a three-hundred-dollar settlement. Most of EastWellmouth pronounced Kendrick "too pesky particular, " but in somequarters, and these not by any means the least influential, his attitudegained approval and respect. This feeling was strengthened by his takingEdgar Wingate's suit against that same railroad. Edgar's woodlot wasset on fire by sparks from the locomotive and John forced payment, andliberal payment, for the damage. Other cases, small ones, began tocome his way. Lawyer Daniels had enemies in the community who had beenwaiting to take their legal affairs elsewhere. 

Heman still professed entire indifference, but he no longer patronizedhis rival. John had a quiet way of squelching such patronage and ofturning the laugh, which was annoying to a person lacking a sense ofhumor. And then, too, it was quite evident that Emily Howes' liking forthe younger man displeased Daniels greatly. Heman liked Emily, seemed tolike her very much indeed. On one or two occasions he had taken her toride behind his fast horse, and he often brought bouquets and fruit, "given me by my clients and friends, " he explained. "One can't refuselittle gifts like that, but it is a comfort, to a bachelor like me, tobe able to hand them on--hand them on--yes. "

The first of August brought a new sensation and a new resident to EastWellmouth. The big Colfax estate was sold and the buyer was no less apersonage than E. Holliday Kendrick, John Kendrick's aristocratic FifthAvenue cousin. His coming was as great a surprise to John as to the restof the community, but he seemed much less excited over it. The purchasewas quietly completed and, one pleasant morning, the great E. Hollidayhimself appeared in East Wellmouth accompanied by a wife and child, twomotor cars and six servants. 

Captain Obed Bangs, who had been spending a week in Orham on businessconnected with his fish weirs, returned to find the village chantingthe praises of the new arrival. Somehow or other E. Holliday had managedalready to convey the impression that he was the most important personin creation. The captain happening in at the High Cliff House aftersupper, found the group in the living-room discussing the all-importanttopic. Most of the city boarders were out enjoying a "marshmallow toast"about a bonfire on the beach, but the "regulars" were present. 

"Where's Mrs. Thankful?" was Captain Obed's first question. 

"She's in the kitchen, I think, " replied John. "Shall I call her?"

"Oh, no, no! It ain't particular. I just--just wondered where she was, that's all. I wouldn't trouble her on no account. "

John smiled. He seemed quietly amused about something. He regarded hisfriend, who, after a glance in his direction, was staring at the lamp onthe table, and said:

"I'm sure it would be no trouble, Captain. Better let me tell her youare here. "

Captain Obed was saved the embarrassment of further protestations by theentrance of Thankful herself; Emily accompanied her. The captain shookhands with Mrs. Barnes and her cousin and hastened to announce that heheard "big news" down street and had run over to find out how much truththere was in it. 

"Couldn't scurcely believe it, myself, " he declared. "John here, neversaid a word about his high-toned relation comin' to East Wellmouth. Hadyou any idea he was comin', John?"

John shook his head. 

"No, " he said. "The last time I saw him in New York, which was twoyears or more ago, he did say something about being on the lookout fora summer residence. But he did not mention East Wellmouth; nor did I. I remember hearing that he and the late Mr. Colfax were quite friendly, associated in business affairs, I believe. Probably that accounts forhis being here. "

"Set down, everybody, " urged Thankful. "I'm willin' to set down, myself, I can tell you. Been on my feet 'most of the day. What sort of a personis this relation of yours, Mr. Kendrick? He ought to be all right, ifthere's anything in family connections. "

Heman Daniels answered the question. He spoke with authority. 

"Mr. Holliday is a fine gentleman, " he announced, emphatically. "I'veseen him two or three times since he came. He's a millionaire, but itdoesn't make him pompous or stand-offish. He and I spoke--er--conversedtogether as friendly and easy as if we had known each other all ourlives. He is very much interested in East Wellmouth. He tells me that, if the place keeps on suiting him as it has so far, he intends makingit his permanent home. Of course he won't stay here ALL the year--thefamily have a house in Florida and one in New York, I believe--but hewill call East Wellmouth his real home and his interests will centerhere. "

There was a general expression of satisfaction. Miss Timpson declaredthat it was "real lovely" of Mr. Holliday Kendrick. Caleb Hammondannounced that he always cal'lated there was a boom coming for the town. Had said so more times than he could count. "Folks'll tell you I saidit, too, " he proclaimed stoutly. "They'll bear me out in it, if you ask'em. "

"I'm glad we're goin' to have such nice neighbors, " said Thankful. "It'salways worried me a little wonderin' who that Colfax place might be soldto. I didn't know but somebody might get it with the notion of startin'another hotel. "

"Hannah Parker ain't opened her mouth to talk of anything else sinceI got back, " said Captain Bangs. "And it's been open most of the time, too. She says John's rich relation's locatin' here is a dissipation ofProvidence, if you know what that is. "

John smiled but he said nothing. Emily was silent, also; she wasregarding the young man intently. 

"Yes, sir, " continued Mr. Daniels, evidently pleased at the approvalwith which his statement had been met. "Yes, sir, Mr. E. HollidayKendrick is destined to be a great acquisition to this town; mark mywords. He tells me he shall hire no one to do his work except EastWellmouth people. And there will be a lot of work to be done, if hecarries out his plans. He intends building an addition to his house, andenlarging his estate--"

Thankful interrupted. 

"Enlargin' it!" she repeated. "Mercy sakes! What for? I should think'twas large enough now!"

Heman smiled tolerantly. "To us--the ordinary--er--citizens, it mightappear so, " he observed. "But the--er--New York ideas is broaderthan the average Cape Codder's, if you'll excuse me, Mrs. Barnes. Mr. Kendrick has begun to spend money here already, and he will doubtlessspend more. He contemplates public improvements as well as private. Heasked me what sort of spirit there was in our community. Ahem!"

He paused, apparently to let the importance of the announcement sink in. It sank, or seemed to. Mr. Hammond, however, was somewhat puzzled. 

"Now what do you cal'late he meant by that?" he queried. 

John Kendrick answered. He and Emily had exchanged smiles. Neither ofthem seemed as deeply impressed with the Daniels proclamation as theothers of the group. 

"Perhaps he wanted to buy a drink, " suggested John, gravely. 

Miss Timpson was shocked; her expression showed it. Caleb Hammond didnot seem to know whether to be shocked or not; the Hammond appreciationof a joke generally arrived on a later train. Mrs. Barnes and CaptainObed laughed, but not too heartily. 

Mr. Daniels did not laugh. The frivolous interruption evidently jarredhim. 

"I scarcely imagine that to be the reason, " he said, drily. "If Mr. E. Holliday Kendrick does indulge I guess likely--that is, I presume hewould not find it necessary to buy his--er--beverages here. He meantpublic spirit, of course. He asked me who our leading men were. "

"Who were they--the others, I mean?" asked John. 

Emily rubbed away a smile with her handkerchief. Heman noticed heraction, and his color brightened. 

"They WERE public, " he said, rather sharply. "They were men ofstanding--long standing in the community. Prominent and prosperouscitizens, who have lived here long enough for East Wellmouth to knowthem--and respect them. "

This was a shot in the bull's eye. Miss Timpson evidently thought so, for she nodded approval. Daniels continued. 

"They were men of known worth, " he went on. "Practical citizens whosepast as well as present is known. Your cousin--I believe he is yourcousin, Kendrick, although he did not mention the relationship--wasgrateful to me for giving him their names. He is a practical man, himself. "

John nodded. "He must be, " he admitted. "No one but a practical mancould get all that advice, free, from a lawyer. "

Captain Obed laughed aloud. 

"That's a good one, " he declared. "Lawyers ain't in the habit of GIVIN'much, 'cordin' to all accounts. How about it, Heman?"

Mr. Daniels ignored the question and the questioner. He rose to hisfeet. 

"There are SOME lawyers, " he observed, crisply, "whose advice is notasked--to any great extent. I--I think I will join the group on thebeach. It's a beautiful evening. Won't you accompany me, Miss Howes?"

Emily declined the invitation. "No, thank you, Mr. Daniels, " she said. "I am rather tired and I think I won't go out tonight. By the way, Mr. Kendrick, " she added, "was the great man asking your advice also? Ihappened to see him go into your office yesterday. "

Everyone was surprised--everyone except the speaker and the personaddressed, that is--but Heman's surprise was most manifest. His hand wason the knob of the door, but now he turned. 

"In HIS office?" he repeated. "Kendrick, was he in to see YOU?"

John bowed assent. "Yes, " he said. "He seems to be contemplatingretaining a sort of--of resident attorney to look after his localaffairs. I mentioned your name, Daniels. "

Mr. Daniels went out. The door banged behind him. 

A half hour later, after Mr. Hammond also had gone to join themarshmallow toasters and Miss Timpson had retired to her room, John toldthe others the story. Mr. E. Holliday Kendrick HAD called upon him athis office and he did contemplate engaging a resident lawyer. There werelikely to be many of what he termed "minor details" connected with thetransfer of the Colfax estate to him and the purchases which he meantto make later on, and an attorney at his beck and call would be a greatconvenience. Not this only; he had actually offered his young cousinthe position, had offered to engage him and to pay him several hundreddollars as a retaining fee. 

He told his hearers so much, and then he stopped. Emily, who had seemedmuch interested, waited a moment and then begged him to continue. 

"Well?" she said. "Why don't you tell us the rest? We are all waiting tocongratulate you. You accepted, of course. "

John shook his head. "Why, no, " he replied, "I didn't accept, exactly. I did say I would think it over; but I--well, I'm not sure that I shallaccept. "

Here was the unexpected. His hearers looked at each other in amazement. 

"You won't accept!" cried Thankful. "Why, Mr. Kendrick. "

"Won't accept!" shouted Captain Obed. "What on earth! Why, JohnKendrick, what's the matter with you? Ain't you been settin' in thatoffice of yours waitin' and waitin' for somethin' worth while to comealong? And now a really big chance does come, and you say you don't knowas you'll take it! What kind of talk's that, I'd like to know!"

John smiled. Miss Howes, who seemed as much surprised as the others, didnot smile. 

"Why won't you take it?" demanded the captain. 

"Oh, I don't know. The proposition doesn't appeal to me as strongly asit should, perhaps. Cousin Holliday and I ARE cousins, but we--well, wediffer in other ways besides the size of our incomes. When I was in NewYork I went to him at one time. I was--I needed--well, I went to him. Heconsented to see me and he listened to what I had to say, but he wasnot too cordial. He didn't ask me to call again. Now he seems changed, I admit. Remembers perfectly well that I am his father's brother'sonly child and all that, and out of the kindness of his heart offers meemployment. But--but I don't know. "

No one spoke for a moment. Then Emily broke the silence. 

"You don't know?" she repeated, rather sharply. "Why not, may I ask?"

"Oh, I don't, that's all. For one thing, there is just a little too muchcondescension in my dear cousin's manner. I may be a yellow dog, butI don't like to sit up and beg when my master threatens to throw me abone. Perhaps I'm particular as to who that master may be. "

Again it was Emily who spoke. 

"Perhaps you are--TOO particular, " she said. "Can you afford to be soparticular?"

"Probably not. But, you see, there is another thing. There is a questionof professional ethics involved. If I take that retainer I am bound inhonor to undertake any case Cousin Holliday may give me. And--and, I'mnot sure I should care to do that. You know how I feel about alawyer's duty to his client and his duty to himself. There are certainquestions--"

She interrupted. 

"I think there are, too many questions, " she said. "I lose patience withyou sometimes. Often and often I have known of your refusing cases whichother lawyers have taken and won. "

"Meaning Brother Daniels?" He asked it with a smile, but with somesarcasm in his tone. Both he and Miss Rowes seemed to have forgottenthat the captain and Thankful were present. 

"Why, yes. Mr. Daniels has accepted cases which you have refused. No onethinks the less of him for it. He will accept your cousin's retainer ifyou don't. "

"I presume he will. That would be the practical thing to do, and heprides himself on his practicality. "

"Practicality is not altogether bad. It is often necessary in thispractical world. What case is Mr. Kendrick likely to put in your handswhich you would hesitate to undertake?"

"None that I know of. But if he did, I--"

"You could refuse to take it. "

"Why, not easily. I should have accepted his retainer and that, according to legal etiquette, would make me honor bound to--"

She interrupted again. Her patience was almost gone, that was plain. Forthe matter of that, so was Captain Obed's. 

"Don't you think that you are a trifle too sensitive concerning honor?"she asked. "And too suspicious besides? I do. Oh, I am tired of yourscruples. I don't like to see you letting success and--and all the restof it pass you by, when other men, not so overscrupulous, do succeed. Don't you care for success? Or for money?"

John interrupted her. He leaned forward and spoke, deliberately butfirmly. And he looked her straight in the face. 

"I do, " he said. "I care for both--now--more than I ever thought I couldcare. "

And, all at once, the young lady seemed to remember that her cousin andthe captain were in the room. She colored, and when she spoke it was ina different tone. 

"Then, " she said, "it seems to me, if I were you, I should accept theopportunities that came in my way. Of course, it's not my affair. Ishouldn't have presumed to advise. " She rose and moved toward thedoor. "Good night, Mr. Kendrick, " she said. "Good night, Captain Bangs. Auntie, you will excuse me, won't you? I am rather tired tonight, and--"

But once more Kendrick interrupted. 

"One moment, please, Miss Howes, " he said, earnestly. "Do Iunderstand--do you mean that you wish me to accept Cousin Holliday'sretainer?"

Emily paused. 

"Why, " she answered, after an instant's hesitation, "I--I really don'tsee why my wish one way or the other should be very strong. But--but asa friend of yours--of course we are all your friends, Mr. Kendrick--asone of your friends I--we, naturally, like to see you rise in yourprofession. "

"Then you advise me to accept?"

"If my advice is worth anything--yes. Good night. "

Next day, when Captain Obed made his customary call at theex-barber-shop, he ventured to ask the question uppermost in his mind. 

"Have you decided yet, John?" he asked. 

His friend looked at him. 

"Meaning--what?" he queried. 

"Meanin'--you know what I mean well enough. Have you decided to takeyour cousin's offer?"

"I've done more than that, Captain. I have accepted the offer and theretaining fee, too. "

Captain Obed sprang forward and held out his hand. 

"Bully for you, John!" he shouted. "That's the best thing you ever donein your life. NOW you've really started. "

Kendrick smiled. "Yes, " he admitted, "I have started. Where I may finishis another matter. "

"Oh, you'll finish all right. Don't be a Jeremiah, John. Well, well!This is fine. Won't all hands be pleased!"

"Yes, won't they! Especially Brother Daniels. Daniels will be overcomewith joy. Captain, have a cigar. Have two cigars. I have begun to spendmy retainer already, you see. "

CHAPTER IX

The August days were busy ones at the High Cliff House. Every room wasfilled and the tables in the dining-room well crowded. Thankful toldCaptain Bangs that she could not spare time even to look out of thewindow. "And yet Emily and I are about the only ones who don't lookout, " she added. "There's enough goin' on to look at, that's sartin. "

There was indeed. Mr. E. Holliday Kendrick having taken possession ofhis new estate, immediately set about the improving and enlarging whichMr. Daniels had quoted him as contemplating. Carpenters, painters andgardeners were at work daily. The Kendrick motor cars and the Kendrickservants were much in evidence along East Wellmouth's main road. Whathad been done by the great man and his employees and what would be donein the near future kept the gossips busy. He was planning a new rosegarden--"the finest from Buzzard's Bay down"; he had torn out the "wholebroadside" of the music-room and was "cal'latin'" to make it twice aslarge as formerly; he was to build a large conservatory on the knoll bythe stables. Hannah Parker declared she could not see the need of this. "There's a tower onto the main buildin' already, " she said, "pretty nighas high as a lighthouse. I should think a body could see fur enoughfrom that tower, without riggin' up a conservatory. Well, Mrs. Kendrickneedn't ask ME to go up in it. I went to the top of the conservatory onScargo Hill one time and I was so dizzy in the head I thought sure I'dfall right over the railin'. "

The High Cliff boarders--Miss Timpson and Caleb Hammondespecially--spent a great deal of time peering from the living-roomwindows and watching what they called the "goin's on" at the Kendrickestate. Occasionally they caught a glimpse of E. Holliday himself. Thegreat man was inclined to greatness even in the physical meaning ofthe word, for he was tall and stout, and dignified, not to say pompous. Arrayed in white flannels he issued orders to his hirelings and thehirelings obeyed him. When one is monarch of the larger portion of allhe surveys it must be gratifying to feel that one looks the part. E. Holliday looked it and apparently felt it. 

Thankful, during this, her most prosperous season, was active frommorning until night. When that night came she was ready for sleep, readyfor more than she could afford to take. Emily was invaluable as managerand assistant, and Captain Obed Bangs assisted and advised in every waythat he could. The captain had come to be what Mrs. Barnes called the"sheet anchor" of the High Cliff House. Whenever the advice of a man, or a man's help was needed, it was to Captain Bangs that she turned. AndCaptain Obed was always only too glad to help. Hannah Parker declared hespent more time at the boarding house than he did at her home. 

If Emily Howes noticed how frequently the captain called--and it isprobable that she did--she said nothing about it. John Kendrick musthave noticed it, for occasionally, when he and Captain Obed were alone, he made an irrelevant remark like the following:

"Captain, " he said, on one occasion, "I think you're growing youngerevery day. "

"Who? Me? Go on, John! How you talk! I'm so old my timbers creak everytime I go up a flight of stairs. They'll be sendin' me to the junk pilepretty soon. "

"I guess not. You're as young as I am, every bit. Not in years, perhaps, but in spirit and energy. And you surprise me, too. I didn't know youwere such a lady's man. "

"Me? A lady's man? Tut, tut! Don't talk foolish. If I've cruised aloneall these years I cal'late that's proof enough of how much a lady's manI am. "

"That's no proof. You haven't happened upon the right sort of consort, that's all. Look at Brother Daniels; he is a bachelor, too, but everyoneknows what a lady's man he is. "

"Humph! You ain't comparin' me to Heman Daniels, are you?"

"No. No, of course not. I shouldn't dare. Comparing any mortal withDaniels would be heresy, wouldn't it? But you certainly are popular withthe fair sex. Why, even Imogene has fallen under the influence. She saysMrs. Barnes thinks you are the finest man in the world. "

"She does, hey? Well, " tartly, "she better mind her own affairs. Ithought she rated Kenelm Parker about as high as anybody these days. Hespends more time in that kitchen of hers--"

"There, there, Captain! Don't sidestep. The fair Imogene may besusceptible to Mr. Parker's charms, but that is probably because youhaven't smiled upon her. If you--"

"Say, look here, John Kendrick! If you keep on talkin' loony in this wayI'll begin to heave out a few hints myself. I may be as popular as yousay, with Imogene and--and the help, but I know somebody else that iscatchin' the same disease. "

"Meaning Mr. Daniels, I suppose? He is popular, I admit. "

"Is he? Well, you ought to know best. Seems to me I can call to mindsomebody else that is fairly popular--in some latitudes. By the way, John, you don't seem to be as popular with Heman as you was at first. "

"I'm sorry. My accepting my cousin's retainer may--"

"Oh, I didn't mean that. What was you and Emily doin' at Chris Badger'sstore yesterday afternoon?"

"Doing? Yesterday? Oh, yes! I did meet Miss Howes while I was on my wayto the office and I waited while she did a little marketing. What in theworld--"

"Nothin'. Fur's that goes I don't think either of you knew you was INthe world. I passed right by and you didn't see me. Heman saw you, too. What was your marketin'--vegetables?"

"I believe so. Captain, you're sidestepping again. It was of you, notme, I was speaking when--"

"Yes, I know. Well, I'm speakin' about you now. Heman saw you buyin'them vegetables. Tomatters, wa'n't they?"

"Perhaps so. Have you been drinking? What difference does it makewhether we bought tomatoes or potatoes?"

"Didn't make none--to me. But I bet Heman didn't like to see you twobuyin' tomatters. "

"For heaven's sake, why not?"

"Oh, 'cause he probably remembered, same as I did, what folks used tocall 'em in the old days. "

"You HAVE been drinking! What did they use to call them?"

"Love apples, " replied Captain Obed, and strode away chuckling. Johnwatched him go. He, too, laughed at first, but his laugh broke off inthe middle and when he went into the house his expression was troubledand serious. 

One remark of the captain's was true enough; John Kendrick's popularitywith his professional rival was growing daily less. The pair werescrupulously polite to each other, but they seldom spoke except whenothers were present, and Mr. Daniels made it a point apparently to bepresent whenever Miss Howes was in the room. He continued to bring hislittle offerings of fruit and flowers and his invitations for drivesand picnics and entertainments at the town hall were more frequent. Sometimes Emily accepted these invitations; more often she refused them. John also occasionally invited her to drive with him or to play tennison his cousin's courts, and these invitations she treated as she didHeman's, refusing some and accepting others. She treated the pairwith impartiality and yet Thankful was growing to believe there was adifference. Imogene, outspoken, expressed her own feelings in the matterwhen she said, "Miss Emily likes Mr. Kendrick pretty well, don't she, ma'am?"

Thankful regarded her maidservant with disapproval. 

"What makes you say that, Imogene?" she demanded. "Of course she likeshim. Why shouldn't she?"

"She should, ma'am. And she does, too. And he likes her; that's plainenough. "

"Imogene, what are you hintin' at? Do you mean that my cousin is in--inlove with Mr. John Kendrick?"

"No'm. I don't say that, not yet. But there's signs that--"

"Signs! If you don't get those ridiculous story-book notions out ofyour head I don't know what I'll do to you. What do you know about folksbein' in love? You ain't in love, I hope; are you?"

Imogene hesitated. "No, ma'am, " she replied. "I ain't. But--but maybe Imight be, if I wanted to. "

"For mercy sakes! The girl's crazy. You MIGHT be--if you wanted to! Whowith? If you're thinkin' of marryin' anybody seems to me I ought to knowit. Why, you ain't met more'n a dozen young fellers in this town, and I've taken good care to know who they were. If you're thinkin' offallin' in love--or marryin'--"

Imogene interrupted. "I ain't, " she declared. "And, anyhow, ma'am, gettin' married don't necessarily mean you're in love. "

"It don't! Well, this beats all I ever--"

"No, ma'am, it don't. Sometimes it's a person's duty to get married. "

Thankful gasped. "Duty!" she repeated. "You HAVE been readin' more ofthose books, in spite of your promisin' me you wouldn't. "

"No, ma'am, I ain't. Honest, I ain't. "

"Then what do you mean? Imogene, what man do you care enough for to makeyou feel it's your--your duty to marry him?"

"No man at all, " declared Imogene, promptly and decisively. And that isall she would say on the subject. 

Thankful repeated this astonishing conversation, or part of it, toEmily. The latter considered it a good joke. "That girl is a strangecreature, " she said, "and great fun. You never can tell what she willsay or think. She is very romantic and that nonsense about duty andthe rest of it undoubtedly is taken from some story she has read. Youneedn't worry, Auntie. Imogene worships you, and she will never leaveyou--to be married, or for any other reason. "

So Thankful did not worry about Imogene. She had other worries, thoseconnected with a houseful of boarders, and these were quite sufficient. And now came another. Kenelm Parker was threatening to leave her employ. 

The statement is not strictly true. Kenelm, himself, never threatenedto do anything. But another person did the threatening for him and thatperson was his sister. Hannah Parker, for some unaccountable reason, seemed to be developing a marked prejudice against the High Cliff House. Her visits to the premises were not less frequent than formerly, butthey were confined to the yard and stable; she no longer called at thehouse. Her manner toward Emily and Thankful was cordial enough perhaps, but there was constraint in it and she asked a good many questionsconcerning her brother's hours of labor, what he did during the day, andthe like. 

"She acts awful queer, seems to me, " said Thankful. "Not the way she didat first at all. In the beginnin' I had to plan pretty well to keep herfrom runnin' in and sp'ilin' my whole mornin' with her talk. Now sheseems to be keepin' out of my way. What we've done to make her act so Ican't see, and neither can Emily. "

Captain Bangs, to whom this remark was addressed, laughed. 

"You ain't done anything, I guess, " he said. "It ain't you she's downon; it's your hired girl, the Imogene one. She seems to be more down onthat Imogene than a bow anchor on a mud flat. They don't hitch horses, those two. You see she tries to boss and condescend and Imogene givesher as good as she sends. It's got so that Hannah is actually scared ofthat girl; don't pretend to be, of course; calls her 'the inmate' andall sorts of names. But she is scared of her and don't like her. "

Thankful was troubled. "I'm sorry, " she said. "Imogene is independent, but she's an awful kind-hearted girl. I do hate trouble amongstneighbors. "

"Oh, there won't be any trouble. Hannah's jealous, that's all thetrouble--jealous about Kenelm. You see, she wanted him to come here towork so's she could have him under her thumb and run over and give himorders every few minutes. Imogene gives him orders, too, and he minds;she makes him. Hannah don't like that; 'cordin' to her notion Kenelmhadn't ought to have any skipper but her. It's all right, though, Mrs. Barnes. It's good for Kenelm and it's good for Hannah. Do 'em both good, I cal'late. "

But when Kenelm announced that he wasn't sure but that he should "heaveup his job" in a fortnight or so, the situation became more serious. 

"He mustn't leave, " declared Thankful. "August and early Septemberare the times when I've got to have a man on the place, and you sayyourself, Captain Bangs, that there isn't another man to be had justnow. If he goes--"

"Oh, he won't go. This is more of Hannah's talk; she's put him up tothis leavin' business. Offer him another dollar a week, if you have to, and I'll do some preachin' to Hannah, myself. "

When Thankful mentioned the matter to Imogene the latter's comment waspuzzling but emphatic. 

"Don't you fret, ma'am, " she said. "He ain't left yet. "

"I know; but he says--"

"HE don't say it. It's that sister of his does all the sayin'. And SHEain't workin' for you that I know of. "

"Now, Imogene, we mustn't, any of us, interfere between Kenelm and hissister. She IS his sister, you know. "

"Yes'm. But she isn't his mother and his grandmother and his aunt andall his relations. And, if she was, 'twouldn't make no difference. He'sthe one to say whether he's goin' to leave or not. "

"But he does say it. That is, he--"

"He just says he 'cal'lates. ' He never said he was GOIN' to do anything;not for years, anyhow. It's all right, Mrs. Thankful. You just wait andsee. If worst comes to worst I've got a--"

She stopped short. "What have you got, Imogene?" asked Mrs. Barnes. 

"Oh, nothin', ma'am. Only you just wait. "

So Thankful waited and Kenelm, perfectly aware of the situation, andbacked by the counsel of his sister, became daily more independent. He did only such work as he cared to do and his hours for arriving anddeparting were irregular, to say the least. 

On the last Thursday, Friday and Saturday of August the Ostable CountyCattle Show and Fair was to be held at the county seat. The annualCattle Show is a big event on the Cape and practically all of EastWellmouth was planning to attend. Most of the High Cliff boarders weregoing to the Fair and, Friday being the big day, they were goingon Friday. Imogene asked for a holiday on that day. The request wasgranted. Then Kenelm announced that he and Hannah were cal'latin' togo. Thankful was somewhat reluctant; she felt that to be deprived ofthe services of both her hired man and maid on the same day might betroublesome. But as the Parker announcement was more in the nature of anultimatum than a request, she said yes under protest. But when CaptainObed appeared and invited her and John Kendrick and Emily Howes to go tothe Fair with him in a hired motor car she was more troubled than ever. 

"I'd like to go, Cap'n, " she said. "Oh, I WOULD like to go! I haven'thad a day off since this place opened and I never rode in an automobilemore'n three times in my life. But I can't do it. You and Emily and Johncan, of course, and you must; but I've got to stay here. Some of theboarders will be here for their meals and I can't leave the housealone. "

Captain Obed uttered a dismayed protest. 

"Sho!" he exclaimed. "Sho! That's too bad. Why, I counted more on yourgoin' than--Humph! You've just got to go, that's all. Can't Imogene lookafter the house?"

"She could if she was goin' to be here, but she's goin' to the Fairherself. I promised her she could and I must keep my promise. "

"Yes, yes; I presume likely you must. But now, Mrs. Thankful--"

"I'm afraid there can't be any 'but, ' Cap'n. You and Mr. Kendrick andEmily go and I'll get my fun thinkin' what a good time you'll have. "

She was firm and at last the captain yielded. But his keendisappointment was plainly evident. He said but little during his stayat the boarding-house and went home early, glum and disconsolate. At theParker domicile he found Kenelm and his sister in a heated argument. 

"I don't care, Hannah, " vowed Kenelm. "I'm a-goin' to that Fair, nomatter if I do have to go alone. Didn't you tell me I was goin'? Didn'tyou put me up to askin' for the day off? Didn't you--"

"Never mind what I did. I give in I had planned for you to go, but thatwas when I figgered on you and me goin' together. Now that Mr. Hammondhas invited me to go along with him--"

Captain Obed interrupted. "Hello! Hello!" he exclaimed. "What's this?Has Caleb Hammond offered to go gallivantin' off to the Ostable CattleShow along with you, Hannah? Well, well! Wonders'll never cease. Caleb'sgettin' gay in his old age, ain't he? Humph! there'll be somethin' elsefor the postoffice gang to talk about, first thing you know. Hannah, I'msurprised!"

Miss Parker colored and seemed embarrassed. Her brother, however, voicedhis disgust. 

"Surprised!" he repeated. "Huh! That's nuthin' to what I am. I'm more'nsurprised--I'm paralyzed. To think of that tightfisted old fool lettin'go of money enough to hire a horse and team and--"

"Kenelm!" Hannah's voice quivered with indignation. "Kenelm Parker! Theidea!"

"Yes, that's what I say, the idea! Here's an old critter--yes, he isold, too. He's so nigh seventy he don't dast look at the almanac forfear he'll find it's past his birthday. And he's always been so tightwith money that he'd buy second-hand postage stamps if the Gov'mentwouldn't catch him. And his wife's been dead a couple of hundred year, more or less, and yet, by thunder-mighty, all to once he starts in--"

"Kenelm Parker, you stop this minute! I'm ashamed of you. Mr. Hammond'sa real, nice, respectable man. As to his money--well, that's hisbusiness anyhow, and, besides, he ain't hirin' the horse and buggy; he'sgoin' to borrow it off his nephew over to the Centre. His askin' me togo is a real neighborly act. "

"Huh! If he's so plaguy neighborly why don't he ask me to go, too? I'mas nigh a neighbor as you be, ain't I?"

"He don't ask you because the buggy won't hold but two, and you knowit. I should think you'd be glad to have me save the expense of my fare. Winnie S. Would charge me fifty cents to take me to the depot, and thefare on the excursion train is--"

"Now what kind of talk's that! I ain't complainin' 'cause you save theexpense. And I don't care if you go along with all the old men from hereto Joppa. What I'm sayin' is that I'm goin' to that Fair tomorrow. I cango alone in the cars, I guess. There won't nobody kidnap me, as I knowof. "

"But, Kenelm, I don't like to have you over there all by yourself. It'llbe so lonesome for you. If you'll only wait maybe I'll go again, myself. Maybe we could both go together on Saturday. "

"I don't want to go Saturday; I want to go tomorrow. Tomorrow's thebig day, when they have the best horse-racin'. Why, Darius Holt iscal'latin' to make money tomorrow. He's got ten dollars bet on Exie B. In the second race and--"

"Kenelm Parker! Is THAT what you want to go to that Cattle Show for? Tobet on horse trots! To gamble!"

"Aw, dry up. How'd I gamble? You don't let me have money enough to putin the collection box Sundays, let alone gamblin'. I have to shove myfist clear way down to the bottom of the plate whenever they pass itfor fear Heman Daniels'll see that I'm only lettin' go of a nickel. Aw, Hannah, have some sense, won't you! I'd just as soon go to that Fairalone as not. I won't be lonesome. Lots of folks I know are goin'; menand women, too. "

"Women? What women?"

"Oh, I don't know. How should I know?"

"Well--well, I suppose likely they are. Imogene said she was goin'and--"

"Imogene! You mean that hired inmate over to Thankful Barnes'? Humph!So she told you she was goin', hey? Well, most likely she told a fib. Iwouldn't trust her not to; sassy, impudent thing! I don't believe she'sgoin' at all. Is she, Cap'n Bangs?"

The captain, who had remained silent during this family jar, could notresist the temptation. 

"Oh yes, Imogene's goin', " he answered, cheerfully. "She's countin' onhavin' the time of her life over there. But she isn't the only one. Why, about all the females in East Wellmouth'll be there. I heard AbbieLarkin arrangin' for her passage with Winnie S. Yesterday afternoon. Winsaid, 'Judas priest!' He didn't know where he was goin' to put her, buthe cal'lated he'd have to find stowage room somewhere. Oh, Kenelm won'tbe lonesome, Hannah. I shouldn't worry about that. "

Kenelm looked as if he wished the speaker might choke. Hannahstraightened in her chair. 

"Hum!" she mused. "Hum!" and was silent for a moment. Then she asked:

"Is Mrs. Thankful goin', too? I suppose likely she is. "

The captain's cheerfulness vanished. 

"No, " he said, shortly, "she isn't. She wanted to, but she doesn't feelshe can leave the boardin'-house with nobody to look after it. "

Miss Parker seemed pleased, for some reason or other. 

"I don't wonder, " she said, heartily. "She shouldn't be left all aloneherself, either. If that ungrateful, selfish Orphan's Home minx isselfish enough to go and leave her, all the more reason my brothershouldn't. Whatever else us Parkers may be, we ain't selfish. We thinkabout others. Kenelm, dear, you must stay at work and help Mrs. Barnesaround the house tomorrow. You and I'll go to the Fair on Saturday. Idon't mind; I'd just as soon go twice as not. "

Kenelm sprang to his feet. He was so angry that he stuttered. 

"You--you--YOU don't care!" he shouted. "'Cause you're goin' TWICE!That's a divil of a don't care, that is!"

"Kenelm! My own brother! Cursin' and swearin'!"

"I ain't, and--and I don't care if I be! What's the matter with you, Hannah Parker? One minute you're sailin' into me tellin' me to heave upmy job and not demean myself doin' odd jobs in a boardin'-house barn. And the next minute you're tellin' me I ought to stay to home and--andhelp out that very boardin'-house. I won't! By--by thunder-mighty, Iwon't! I'm goin' to that Cattle Show tomorrow if it takes my last cent. "

Hannah smiled. "How many last cents have you got, Kenelm?" she asked. "You was doin' your best to borrer a quarter of me this mornin'. "

"I've got more'n you have. I--I--everything there is here--yes, andevery cent there is here--belongs to me by rights. You ain't got nothin'of your own. "

Miss Parker turned upon him. "To think, " she wailed, brokenly, "to thinkthat my own brother--all the brother I've got--can stand afore me andheave my--my poverty in my face. I may be dependent on him. I am, Isuppose. But Oh, the disgrace of it! the--Oh! Oh! Oh!"

Captain Obed hurried upstairs to his room. Long after he had shut thedoor he heard the sounds of Hannah's sobs and Kenelm's pleadings thathe "never meant nothin'. " Then came silence and, at last, the sounds offootsteps on the stairs. They halted in the upper hall. 

"I don't know, Kenelm, " said Hannah, sadly. "I'll try to forgive you. I presume likely I must. But when I think of how I've been a mother toyou--"

"Now, Hannah, there you go again. How could you be my mother when youain't but four year older'n I be? You just give me a few dollars and letme go to that Cattle Show and--"

"No, Kenelm, that I can't do. You are goin' to leave Mrs. Barnes' place;I want you to do that, for the sake of your self-respect. But you muststay there and help her tomorrow. It's your duty. "

"Darn my duty! I'll LEAVE tomorrow, that's what I'll do. "

"Oh dear! There you go again. Profane language and bettin' on horses!WHAT'LL come next? My own brother a gambler and a prodigate! Has it cometo this?"

The footsteps and voices died away. Captain Obed blew out the light andgot into bed. The last words he heard that night were uttered by the"prodigate" himself on his way to his sleeping quarters. And they werespoken as a soliloquy. 

"By time!" muttered Kenelm, as he shuffled slowly past the Captain'sdoor. "By time! I--I'll do somethin' desperate!"

Next morning, when Captain Obed's hired motor car, with its owner, aWellmouth Centre man, acting as chauffeur, rolled into the yard of theHigh Cliff House, a party of three came out to meet it. John Kendrickand Emily Howes were of the party and they were wrapped and ready forthe trip. The captain had expected them; but the third, also dressed forthe journey, was Mrs. Thankful Barnes. Thankful's plump countenance wasradiant. 

"I'm goin' after all, " she announced. "I'm goin' to the Fair with you, Cap'n Bangs. Now what do you think of that? . . . That is, " she added, looking at the automobile, "if you can find a place to put me. "

The captain's joy was as great as his surprise. "Place to put you!" herepeated. "If I couldn't do anything else I'd hang on behind, like ayoungster to a truck wagon, afore you stayed at home. Good for you, Mrs. Thankful! But how'd you come to change your mind? Thought you couldn'tleave. "

Thankful smiled happily. "I didn't change my mind, Cap'n, " she said. "Imogene changed hers. She's a real, good sacrificin' body, the girlis. When she found I'd been asked and wouldn't go, she put her foot downflat. Nothin' would do but she should stay at home today and I shouldgo. I knew what a disappointment 'twas to her, but she just made me doit. She'll go tomorrow instead; that's the way we fixed it finally. I'mawful glad for myself, but I do feel mean about Imogene, just the same. "

A few minutes later, the auto, with John, Emily and Thankful on the rearseat and Captain Obed in front with the driver, rolled out of the yardand along the sandy road toward Wellmouth Centre. About a mile from thelatter village it passed a buggy with two people in it. The pair in thebuggy were Caleb Hammond and Hannah Parker. 

Captain Obed chuckled. "There go the sweethearts, " he observed. "Handsome young couple, ain't they?"

The other occupants of the car joined in the laugh. Emily, inparticular, was greatly amused. 

"Why do you call them sweethearts, Captain?" she asked. "You don'treally suppose--"

The captain burst into a laugh. 

"What? Those two?" he said. "No, no, I was only jokin'. I don't knowabout Hannah--single women her age are kind of chancey--but I do knowCaleb. He ain't takin' a wife to support, not unless she can supporthim. He had a chance to use a horse and buggy free for nothin', that'sall; and it would be against his principles to let a chance like that goby. Cal'late he took Hannah 'cause he knew ice cream and peanuts don'tagree with her dyspepsy and so he wouldn't have to buy any. Ho, ho! Iwonder how Kenelm made out? Wonder if he went on his own hook, afterall?"

In the kitchen of the High Cliff House Imogene was washing the breakfastdishes and trying to forget her disappointment. A step sounded in thewoodshed and, turning, she beheld Mr. Parker. He saw her at the sametime and the surprise was mutual. 

"Why, hello!" exclaimed Imogene. "I thought you'd gone to the Fair. "

"Hello!" cried Kenelm. "Thought you'd gone to the Cattle Show. "

Explanations followed. "What ARE you cal'latin' to do, then?" demandedKenelm, moodily. 

"Me? Stay here on my job, of course. That's what you're goin' to do, too, ain't it?"

Mr. Parker thrust his hands into his pockets. 

"No, by time, I ain't!" he declared, fiercely. "I ain't got any job nomore. I've quit, I have. "

"Quit! You mean you ain't goin' to work for Mrs. Thankful?"

"I ain't gain' to work for nobody. Why should I? I've got money enoughto live on, ain't I? I've got an income of my own. I ain't told Mrs. Thankful yet, but I have quit, just the same. "

Imogene put down the dishcloth. 

"This is your sister's doin's, I guess likely, " she observed. 

"No, it ain't! If--if it was, by time, I wouldn't do it! Hannah treatsme like a dog--yes, sir, like a dog. I'm goin' to show her. A man's gotsome feelin's, if he is a dog. "

"How are you goin' to show her?"

"I don't know, but I be. I'll run away, if I can't do nothin' else. I'llshow her I'm sick of her bossin'. "

Imogene seemed to be thinking. She regarded Mr. Parker with a steady andreflective stare. 

"What are you lookin' at me like that for?" demanded Kenelm, after thestare had become unbearable. 

"I was thinkin'. Humph! What would you do to fix it so's your sisterwould stop her bossin' and you could have your own way once in a while?"

"Do? By time, I'd do anything! Anything, by thunder-mighty!"

"You would? You mean it?"

"You bet I mean it!"

"Would you promise to stay right here and work for Mrs. Thankful as longas she wanted you to?"

"Course I would. I ain't anxious to leave. It's Hannah that's got thatnotion. Fust she was dead sot on my workin' here and now she's just assot on my leavin'. "

"Do you know why she's so--what do you call it?--sot?"

Kenelm fidgeted and looked foolish. "Well, " he admitted, "I--I wouldn'twonder if 'twas account of you, Imogene. Hannah knows I--I like youfust rate, that we're good friends, I mean. She's--well, consarn itall!--she's jealous, that's what's the matter. She's awful silly thatway. I can't so much as look at a woman, but she acts like a plumbidiot. Take that Abbie Larkin, for instance. One time she--ho, ho! I didkind of get ahead of her then, though. "

Imogene nodded. "Yes, " she said; "I heard about that. Well, maybe youcan get ahead of her again. You wait a minute. "

She went into the living-room. When she came back she had an ink-bottle, a pen and a sheet of note-paper in her hands. 

"What's them things for?" demanded Mr. Kenelm. 

"I'll tell you pretty soon. Kenelm, you--you asked me somethin' a whileago, didn't you?"

Kenelm started. "Why--why, Imogene, " he stammered, "I--I don't know's Iknow what you mean. "

"I guess you know, all right. You did ask me--or, anyhow, you would if Ihadn't said no before you had the chance. You like me pretty well, don'tyou, Kenelm?"

This pointed question seemed to embarrass Mr. Parker greatly. He turnedred and glanced at the door. 

"Why--why, yes, I like you fust rate, Imogene, " he admitted. "I--I don'tknow's I ever see anybody I liked better. But when it comes to--You see, that time when I said--er--er what I said I was kind of--of desperatealong of Hannah and--"

"Well, you're desperate now, ain't you? Here, " sharply, "you sit stilland let me finish. I've got a plan and you'd better listen to it. Kenelm, won't you sit still, for--for my sake?"

The "big day" of the Ostable County Cattle Show and Fair came to an endas all days, big or little, have to come. Captain Obed Bangs and hisguests enjoyed every minute of it. They inspected the various exhibits, witnessed the horse races and the baseball game, saw the balloonascension, and thrilled with the rest of the great crowd at the"parachute drop. " It was six o'clock when they left the Fair grounds andThankful began to worry about the condition of affairs at the High CliffHouse. 

"It'll be way past dinner time when you and I get there, Emily, " shesaid, "and goodness knows what my boarders have had to eat. Imogene'ssmart and capable enough, but whether she can handle everything aloneI don't know. We ought to have started sooner, but it's nobody's faultmore'n mine that we didn't. "

However, when the High Cliff House was reached its proprietor found thather fears were groundless. But a few of the boarders had planned to eattheir evening meal there; most of the city contingent were stopping atvarious teahouses and restaurants in Ostable or along the road and wouldnot be home until late. 

"Everything's fine, ma'am, " declared Imogene. "There was only three orfour here for supper and I fixed them all right. Mr. Hammond came inlate, but I fed him up and he's gone to bed. Tired out, I guess. I askedhim if he had a good time and he said he had, but it cost him a sight ofmoney. "

Captain Obed laughed. "Caleb will have to do without his mornin'newspapers for quite a spell to make up for today's extravagance, "he declared. "That's what 'tis to take the girls around. Better takewarnin', John. "

John Kendrick smiled. "Considering, " he said, "that you and I havealmost come to blows before I was permitted to even buy a package ofpopcorn with my own money, I think you need the warning more than I, Cap'n Bangs. "

"Imogene, " said Thankful, "you've been a real, nice girl today; you'vehelped me out a lot and I shan't forget it. Now you go to bed and rest, so's to feel like gettin' an early start for the Fair tomorrow. "

Imogene shook her head. "I can't go right now, thank you, ma'am, " shesaid. "I've got company. "

Emily and Thankful looked at each other. 

"Company!" repeated the former. "What company?"

Before Imogene could answer the dining-room door was flung open andHannah Parker rushed in. She was still arrayed in her Sunday gown, which she had donned in honor of Fair Day, but her Sunday bonnet was, as Captain Obed said afterward, "canted down to leeward" and her generalappearance indicated alarm and apprehension. 

"Why, Hannah!" exclaimed Thankful. "Why, Miss Parker, what's thematter?"

Hannah's glance swept the group before her; then it fastened uponImogene. 

"Where's my brother?" she demanded. "Have you seen my brother?"

Captain Bangs broke in. 

"Your brother? Kenelm?" he asked. "Why, what about Kenelm? Ain't he tohome?"

"No. No, he ain't. And he ain't been home, either. I left a cold supperfor him on the table, and I put the teapot on the rack of the stoveready for him to bile. But he ain't been there. It ain't been touched. I--I can't think what--"

Imogene interrupted. "Your brother's all right, Miss Parker, " she said, calmly. "He's been havin' supper with me out in the kitchen. He's therenow. He's the company I said I had, Mrs. Thankful. "

Hannah stared at her. Imogene returned the gaze coolly, blandly and witha serene air of confident triumph. 

"Perhaps you'd better come out and see him, ma'am, " she went on. "He--we, that is--have got somethin' to tell you. The rest can come, too, if they want to, " she added. "It's nothin' we want to keep fromyou. "

Hannah Parker pushed by her and rushed for the kitchen. Imogene followedher and the others followed Imogene. As Thankful said, describing herown feelings, "I couldn't have stayed behind if I wanted to. My feet hadcuriosity enough to go by themselves. "

Kenelm, who had been sitting by the kitchen table before a well-filledplate, had heard his sister's approach and had risen. When Mrs. Barnesand the others reached the kitchen he had backed into a corner. 

"Kenelm Parker, " demanded Hannah, "what are you doin' here, this time ofnight?"

"I--I been eatin' supper, " stammered Kenelm, "but I--I'm through now. "

"Through! Didn't you know your supper was waitin' for you at home?Didn't I tell you to come home early and have MY supper ready? Didn't--"

Imogene interrupted. "I guess you did, ma'am, " she said, "but you see Iasked him to stay here, so he stayed. "

"YOU asked him! And he stayed! Well, I must say! Kenelm, have you beeneatin' supper alone with that--with that--"

She was too greatly agitated to finish, but as Kenelm did not answer, Imogene did, without waiting. 

"Yes'm, " she said, soothingly. "It's all right. Kenelm and me can eattogether, if we want to, I guess. We're engaged. "

"ENGAGED!" Almost everyone said it--everyone except Hannah; she couldnot say anything. 

"Yes, " replied Imogene. "We're engaged to be married. We are, aren't we, Kenelm?"

Kenelm tried to back away still further, but the wall was behind himand he could only back against it. He was pale and he swallowed severaltimes. 

"Kenelm, dear, " said Imogene, "didn't you hear me? Tell your sisterabout our bein' engaged. "

Kenelm's mouth opened and shut. "Eh--eh--" he stammered. "I--I--"

"Don't be bashful, " urged Imogene. "We're engaged to be married, ain'twe?"

Mr. Parker gulped, choked and then nodded. "Yes, " he admitted, faintly. "I--I cal'late we be. "

His sister took a step forward, her arm raised. Captain Obed stepped infront of her. 

"Just a minute, Hannah! Heave to! Come up into the wind a jiffy. Let'sget this thing straight. Kenelm, do you mean--"

The gentleman addressed seemed to mean very little, just then. ButImogene's coolness was quite unruffled and again she answered for him. 

"He means just what he said, " she declared, "and what he said was plainenough, I should think. I don't know why there should be so much rowabout it. Mr. Parker and I have been good friends ever since I come hereto work. He's asked me to marry him some time or other and I said maybeI would. That makes us engaged, same's I've been tryin' to tell you. Andwhat all this row is about I can't see. It's our business, ain't it? Ican't see as it's anybody else's. "

But Hannah was by this time beyond holding back. She pushed aside thecaptain's arm and faced the engaged couple. Her eyes flashed and herfingers twitched. 

"You--you designin' critter you!" she shouted, addressing Imogene. "Youplannin', schemin', underhanded--"

"Shh! shh!" put in Captain Obed. "Easy, Hannah! easy, there!"

"I shan't be easy! You mind your own affairs, Obed Bangs! Kenelm Parker, how dare you say--how dare you tell me you're goin' to marry this--thisINMATE? What do you mean by it?"

Poor Kenelm only gurgled. His lady love once more came to his rescue. 

"He's told you times enough what he means, " she asserted, firmly. "AndI'll thank you not to call me names, either. In the first place Iwon't stand it; and, in the second, if you and me are goin' to besisters-in-law, we'd better learn how to get along peaceable together. I--"

"Don't you talk to me! Don't you DARE talk to me! I might have expectedit! I did expect it. So this is why you two didn't go to the Fair? Youhad this all planned between you. I was to be got out of the way, and--"

"That's enough of that, too. There wasn't any plannin' about it--notuntil today, anyhow. I didn't know he wasn't goin' to the Fair and hedidn't know I wasn't. He would have gone only--only you deserted him togo off with your own--your own gentleman friend. Humph! I should thinkyou would look ashamed!"

Miss Parker's "shame"--or her feelings, whatever they might be--seemedto render her speechless. Her brother saw his chance. 

"You know that's just what you done, Hannah, " he put in, pleadingly. "You know you did. I was so lonesome--"

"Hush! Hush, Kenelm!" ordered Imogene. "You left him alone to go withanother man, Miss Parker. For all he knew you might be--be runnin' offto be married, or somethin'. So he come to where he had a friend, that'sall. And what if he did? He can get married, if he wants to, can't he?I'd like to know who'd stop him. He's over twenty-one, I guess. "

This speech was too much for Emily; she laughed aloud. That laugh wasthe final straw. Hannah made a dive for her brother. 

"You come home with me, " she commanded. "You come right straight homewith me this minute. As for you, " she added, turning to Imogene, "I shan't waste any more words on a--on a thing like you. After mybrother's money, be you? Thought you'd get him and it, too, did you?Well, you shan't! He'll come right along home with me and there he'llstay. He's worked in this place as long as he's goin' to, Miss Inmate. I'll take him out of YOUR clutches. "

"Oh no, you won't! Him and me are goin' to the Fair tomorrow and onMonday he's comin' back to work here same as ever. You are, ain't you, Kenelm?"

Kenelm gulped and fidgeted. "I--I--I--" he stuttered. 

"You see, Hannah, " continued Imogene--"I suppose I might as well beginto call you 'Hannah, ' seein' as we're goin' to be relations prettysoon--you see, he's engaged to me now and he'll do what I ask him to, ofcourse. "

"Engaged! He ain't engaged! I'll fix the 'engagement. ' That'll be brokeoff this very minute. "

And now Imogene played her best trump. She took from her waist a slip ofpaper and handed it to Captain Obed. 

"Just read that out loud, won't you, please, Cap'n Bangs?" she asked. 

The captain stared at the slip of paper. Then, in a choked voice, heread aloud the following:

I, Kenelm Issachar Parker, being in sound mind and knowing what I amdoing, ask Imogene to be my wife and I agree to marry her any time shewants me to. 

(Signed) KENELM ISSACHAR PARKER. 

"There!" exclaimed Imogene. "I guess that settles it, don't it? I've gotwitnesses, anyhow, and right here, to our engagement. You all heard usboth say we was engaged. But that paper settles it. Kenelm and I knewmighty well that you'd try to break off the engagement and say therewasn't any; but you can't break THAT. "

"I can't? I like to know why I can't! What do you suppose I care forsuch a--a--"

"Well, if you don't, then the law does. If you make your brother breakhis engagement to me, Hannah Parker, I'll take that piece of paper rightto a lawyer and make him sue Kenelm for--for breach of promises. Youknow what that means, I guess, if you've read the papers same as I have. I rather guess that paper would give me a good many dollars damage. Ifyou don't believe it you try and see. And there's two lawyers livin'right in this house, " she added triumphantly. 

If she expected a sensation her expectations were realized. Hannah wasagain stricken dumb. Captain Bangs and Emily and John Kendrick looked ateach other, then the captain doubled up with laughter. Mrs. Barnesand Kenelm, however, did not laugh. The latter seemed tremendouslysurprised. 

"Why--why, Imogene, " he protested, "how you talk! I never thought--"

"Kenelm, be still. "

"But, Imogene, " begged Thankful, "you mustn't say such things. Inever--"

"Now, ma'am, please don't you butt in. I know what I'm doin'. Pleasedon't talk to me now. There, Kenelm, " turning to the trembling nomineefor matrimonial offices, "that'll do for tonight. You go along with yoursister and be on hand ready to take me to the Cattle Show tomorrow. Goodnight--er--dear. "

Whether it was the "dear" that goaded Miss Parker into one more assault, or whether she was not yet ready to surrender, is uncertain. But, at allevents, she fired a last broadside. 

"He SHAN'T go with you tomorrow, " she shrieked. "He shan't; I won't lethim. "

Imogene nodded. "All right, " she said, firmly. "Then if he don't I'llcome around tomorrow and tell him I'm ready to be married right away. And if he says no to THAT--then--well then, I'll go straight to thelawyer with that paper. "

Ten minutes later, when the Parkers had gone and the sound of Hannah'stirade and Kenelm's protestations had died away on the path toward theirhome, Thankful, John and Captain Obed sat gazing at each other inthe living room. Imogene and Emily were together in the kitchen. The"engaged" young lady had expressed a desire to speak with Miss Howesalone. 

John and the captain were still chuckling, but Thankful refused to seethe joke; she was almost in tears. 

"It's dreadful!" she declared. "Perfectly awful! And Imogene! To act andspeak so to our next-door neighbor! What WILL come of it? And how COULDshe? How could she get engaged to THAT man, of all men? He's old enoughto be her father and--and she CAN'T care for him. "

Emily entered the room. She was apparently much agitated and her eyeswere moist. She collapsed in a rocking-chair and put her handkerchief toher face. 

"Land sakes!" cried Captain Obed. "Is it as bad as that? Does it makeyou cry?"

Emily removed the handkerchief. "I'm not crying, " she gasped. "I--I--Ohdear! This is the funniest thing that girl has done yet. "

"But what is it?" asked John. "What's the answer? We're dying to know. "

Emily shook her head. "I can't tell you, " she said. "I promised Iwouldn't. It--it all came of a talk Imogene and I had a while ago. Wewere speaking of self-sacrifice and she--she adores you, Auntie, and--"

Thankful interrupted. "Mercy on us!" she cried. "Adores me!Self-sacrifice! She ain't doin' this crazy, loony thing for ME, I hope. She ain't marryin' that Parker man because--"

"She hasn't married anyone yet. Oh, it is all right, Auntie; she knowswhat she is doing, or she thinks she does. And, at any rate, I thinkthere is no danger of Mr. Parker's giving up his situation here untilyou are ready to have him do it. There! I mustn't say another word. Ihave said too much already. "

Captain Obed rose to his feet. 

"Well, " he said, "it's too thick off the bows for me to see more'n afoot; I give in to that. But I will say this: If that Imogene girl don'tknow what she's up to it's the fust time since I've been acquainted withher. And she sartin has spiked Hannah's guns. Either Hannah's got to say'dum' when Imogene says 'dee' or she stands a chance to lose her brotheror his money, one or t'other, and she'd rather lose the fust than thelast, I'll bet you. Ho, ho! Yes, it does look as if Imogene had Hannahin a clove hitch. . . . Well, I'm goin' over to see what the next doin'sin the circus is liable to be. I wouldn't miss any of THIS show for nomoney. Good night. "

CHAPTER X

The next morning Kenelm, arrayed in his best, was early on hand toescort the lady of his choice to the Fair. The lady, herself, was readyand the pair drove away in Winnie S. 's depot-wagon bound for WellmouthCentre and the train. Before she left the house Imogene made an earnestrequest. 

"If you don't mind, ma'am, " she said, addressing Mrs. Barnes, "Iwish you wouldn't say nothin' to nobody about Mr. Kenelm and me bein'engaged. And just ask the rest of 'em that heard the--the rough-houselast night not to say anything, either, please. "

"Why, Imogene, " said Thankful, "I didn't know you wanted it to be asecret. Seems to me you said yourself that it wasn't any secret. "

"Yes'm, I know I did. Well, I suppose 'tain't, in one way. But thereain't any use in advertisin' it, neither. Kenelm, he's promised to keepstill. "

"But, Imogene, why? Seems to me if I was willin' to be engaged tothat--to Kenelm, I wouldn't be ashamed to have folks know it. "

"Oh, I ain't ashamed exactly. I ain't ashamed of what I done, not a bit. Only what's the use of tellin'?"

"But you'll have to tell some time; when you're married, sartin. "

"Yes'm. Well, we ain't married--yet. "

"But you're goin' to be, I should presume likely. "

"Maybe so; but not for a good while, anyhow. If I am it won't makeany difference far's you and me are concerned, ma'am. Nor Mr. Parker, either; he'll stay here and work long's you want him, married or not. And so'll I. "

"Well, I suppose that's one comfort, anyhow. I won't say anything aboutyour engagement and I'll ask the others not to. But folks are bound totalk, Imogene. Miss Parker now--how are you goin' to stop her tellin'?"

Imogene nodded knowingly. "I shan't have to, I'll bet you, ma'am, "she said. "She ain't so anxious to have it talked about--not s'long asthere's a chance to break it off, she ain't. She'll keep still. "

"Maybe so, but folks'll suspect, I guess. They'll think somethin's queerwhen you and Kenelm go to the Cattle Show together today. "

"No, they won't. Why should they? Didn't Hannah Parker herself goyesterday with Mr. Hammond? And didn't Mr. Kendrick go with Miss Emily?Yes, and you with Cap'n Bangs? Lordy, ma'am, I--"

"Don't say 'Lordy, ' Imogene, " cautioned Thankful, and hastened away. Imogene looked after her and laughed to herself. 

When Captain Obed made his morning call Mrs. Barnes told him of thisconversation. 

"And how is Hannah this mornin'?" asked Thankful. "I was surprisedenough to see Kenelm in that depot-wagon. I never thought for a minuteshe'd let him go. "

The captain chuckled. "Let him!" he repeated. "Why, Hannah helped himget ready; picked out his necktie for him and loaded him up with cleanhandkerchiefs and land knows what. She all but give him her blessin'afore he started; she did say she hoped he'd have a good time. "

"She did! Mercy on us! Is the world comin' to an end? Last night shewas--"

"Yes, I know. Well, we've got to give Hannah credit; she's got a headon her shoulders, even if the head does run pretty strong to mouth. Imogene's took her measure, judgin' by what you said the girl said toyou. Hannah's thought it over, I cal'late, and she figgers that whilethere's life there's hope, as you might say. Her brother may be engaged, but he ain't married, and, s'long's he ain't, she's got a chance. Youjust see, Mrs. Thankful--you see if Hannah ain't sweeter to Kenelm fromthis on than a molasses jug stopper to a young one. She'll lay herselfout to make his home the softest spot in creation, so he'll think twicebefore leavin' it. That's her game, as I see it, and she'll play it. Give Hannah credit; she won't abandon the ship while there's a plankabove water. Just watch and see. "

Thankful looked doubtful. "Well, maybe so, " she said. "Maybe she will benice to her brother, but how about the rest of us? She wouldn't speak tome last night, nor to Emily--and as for Imogene!"

"Yes, I know. But wait until she sees you, or Imogene either, next time. She'll be smooth as a smelt. I'll bet you anything she'll say that, after all, she guesses the engagement's a good thing and that Imogene'sa nice girl. There's a whole lot in keepin' the feller you're fightin'off his guard until you've got him in a corner with his hands down. Lastnight Hannah give me my orders to mind my own business. This mornin' shecooked me the best breakfast I've had since I shipped aboard her vessel. And kept askin' me to have more. No, Imogene's right; Hannah'll playthe game, and she'll play it quiet. As for tellin' anybody her brother'sengaged, you needn't worry about that. She'll be the last one to tell. "

This prophecy seemed likely to prove true. The next time Thankful metHannah the latter greeted her like a long-lost friend. During a longconversation she mentioned the subject of her brother's engagement butonce and then at the very end of the interview. 

"Oh, by the way, Mrs. Thankful, " she said, "I do beg your pardon forcarryin' on the way I did at your house t'other night. The news waspitched out at me so sudden that I was blowed right off my feet, as youmight say. I acted real unlikely, I know; but, you see, Kenelm does meanso much to me that I couldn't bear to think of givin' him up to anybodyelse. When I come to think it over I realized 'twa'n't no more'n I hadought to have expected. I mustn't be selfish and I ain't goin' to be. S'long's 'tain't that--that Jezebel of an Abbie Larkin I don't mind somuch. I couldn't stand havin' her in the family--THAT I couldn't stand. Oh, and if you don't mind, Mrs. Thankful, just don't say nothin' aboutthe engagin' yet awhile. I shouldn't mind, of course, but Kenelm, he'sset on keepin' it secret for a spell. There! I must run on. I've got togo up to the store and get a can of that consecrated soup for supper. Have you tried them soups? They're awful cheap and handy. You just pourin hot water and there's more'n enough for a meal. Good-by. "

Imogene, when she returned from the Fair, announced that she had had aperfectly lovely time. 

"He ain't such bad company--Kenelm, I mean, " she observed. "He talksa lot, but you don't have to listen unless you want to; and he enjoyshimself real well, considerin' how little practice he's had. "

"Did you meet anyone you knew?" asked Emily. 

"No'm. We saw quite a lot of folks from East Wellmouth, but we saw 'emfirst, so we didn't meet 'em. One kind of funny thing happened: a manwho was outside a snake tent, hollerin' for everybody to come in, saw usand he says to me: 'Girlie, ' he says--he was a fresh guy like all themkind--'Girlie, ' he says, 'ask your pa to take you in and see the SerpentKing eat 'em alive. Only ten cents, Pop, ' he says to Kenelm. 'Don't missthe chance to give your little girl a treat. ' Kenelm was all frothedup at bein' took for my father, but I told him he needn't get mad--if Icould stand it he could, I guessed. "

Kenelm reported for work as usual on Monday morning and heworked--actually worked all day. For an accepted lover he appearedrather subdued and silent. Captain Obed, who noticed his behavior, commented upon it. 

"Cal'late Kenelm's beginnin' to realize gettin' engaged don't mean alljoy, " he said, with a chuckle. "He's just got two bosses instead of one, that's all. He's scart to death of Hannah at home and when he'shere Imogene orders him 'round the way a bucko mate used to order aroustabout. I said Hannah was in a clove hitch, didn't I? Well, she is, but Kenelm--well, Kenelm's like a young one runnin' 'tiddly' on thinice--worse'n that, 'cause he can't stop on either side, got to keeprunnin' between 'em and look out and not fall in. "

Labor Day, the day upon which the Cape summer season really ends, didnot, to the High Cliff House, mean the general exodus which it means tomost of the Cape hotels. Some of Thankful's lodgers left, of course, butmany stayed, and were planning to stay through September if the weathercontinued pleasant. But on the Saturday following Labor Day it rained. And the next day it rained harder, and on Monday began a series of cold, windy, gloomy days which threatened to last indefinitely. One afterthe other the sojourners from the cities passed from grumbling at theweather to trunk-packing and leaving. A few stayed on into the next weekbut when, at the end of that week, a storm set in which was more severethan those preceding it, even these optimists surrendered. Before thatthird week was over the High Cliff House was practically deserted. Except for Heman Daniels and John Kendrick and Miss Timpson and CalebHammond, Thankful and Emily and Imogene were alone in the big house. 

This upsetting of her plans and hopes worried Thankful not a little. Emily, too, was troubled concerning her cousin's business outlook. TheHigh Cliff House had been a success during its first season, but itneeded the expected September and early October income to make it asuccess financially. The expense had been great, much greater thanThankful had expected or planned. It is true that the boarders, almostwithout exception, had re-engaged rooms and board for the followingsummer, but summer was a long way off. There was the winter to be livedthrough and if, as they had hoped, additions and enlargements to theestablishment were to be made in the spring, more, a good deal moremoney, would be needed. 

"As I see it, Auntie, " said Emily, when they discussed the situation, "you have splendid prospects here. Your first season has been all ormore than you dared hope for, and if we had had good weather--the sortof weather everyone says the Cape usually has in the fall months--youwould have come out even or better. But, even then, to make this schemea real money-maker, you would be obliged to have more sleeping-roomsmade over, and a larger dining-room. Now why don't you go and seethis--what is he?--cousin of yours, Mr. Cobb, and tell him just how youstand? Tell him of your prospects and your plans, and get him to advanceyou another thousand dollars--more, if you can get it. Why don't you dothat?"

Thankful did not answer. She had few secrets from Emily, whom she lovedas dearly as a daughter, but one secret she had kept. Just why she hadkept this one she might not have been able to explain satisfactorily, even to herself. She had written Emily of her visit to Solomon Cobb's"henhouse" and of the loan on mortgage which had resulted therefrom. Butshe had neither written nor told all of the circumstances of that visit, especially of Mr. Cobb's attitude toward her and his reluctance to lendthe money. She said merely that he had lent it and Emily had evidentlytaken it for granted that the loan was made because of the relationshipand kindly feeling between the two. Thankful, even now, did notundeceive her. She felt a certain shame in doing so; a shame inadmitting that a relative of hers could be so mean and disobliging. 

"Why don't you go to Mr. Cobb again, Auntie?" repeated Emily. "He willlend you more, I'm sure, if you explain all the circumstances. It wouldbe a perfectly safe investment for him, and you would pay interest, ofcourse. "

Mrs. Barnes shook her head. "I don't think I'd better, Emily, " she said. "He's got one mortgage on this place already. "

"What of it? That was only for fifteen hundred and you have improved thehouse and grounds ever so much since then. I think he'll be glad tolet you have another thousand. The mortgage he has is to run for threeyears, you said, didn't you?"

Again Thankful did not answer. She had not said the mortgage was fora term of three years; Emily had presumed that it was and she had notundeceived her. She hesitated, and Emily noticed her hesitation. 

"It is for three years, isn't it, Auntie?" she repeated. 

Mrs. Barnes tried to evade the question. 

"Why, not exactly, Emily, " she replied. "It ain't. You see, he thoughtthree years was a little mite too long, and so--and so we fixed up for ashorter time. It's all right, though. "

"Is it? You are sure? Aunt Thankful, tell me truly: how long a term isthat mortgage?"

"Well, it's--it's only for a year, but--"

"A year? Why, then it will fall due next spring. You can't pay thatmortgage next spring, can you?"

"I don't know's I can, but--but it'll be all right, anyhow. He'll renewit, if I ask him to, I presume likely. "

"Of course he will. He will have to. Auntie, you must go and see him atonce. If you don't I shall. "

If there was one point on which Thankful was determined, it was thatEmily should not meet Solomon Cobb. The money-lender had visited theHigh Cliff premises but once during the summer and then Miss Howes wasprovidentially absent. 

"No, no!" declared Mrs. Barnes, hastily. "You shan't do any such thing. The idea! I guess I can 'tend to borrowin' money from my own relationwithout draggin' other folks into it. I'll drive over and see him prettysoon. "

"You must go at once. I shan't permit you to wait another week. It isalmost time for me to go back to my schoolwork, and I shan't go untilI am certain that mortgage is to be renewed and that your financialaffairs are all right. Do go, Auntie, please. Arrange to have themortgage renewed and try to get another loan. Promise me you will gotomorrow. "

So Thankful was obliged to promise, and the following morning she droveGeorge Washington over the long road, now wet and soggy from the rain, to Trumet. 

Mr. Solomon Cobb's "henhouse" looked quite as dingy and dirty as whenshe visited it before. Solomon himself was just as shabby and he pulledat his whiskers with his accustomed energy. 

"Hello!" he said, peering over his spectacles. "What do you want? . . . Oh, it's you, is it? What's the matter?"

Thankful came forward. "Matter?" she repeated. "What in the world--whatmade you think anything was the matter?"

Solomon stared at her fixedly. 

"What did you come here for?" he asked. 

"To see you. That's worth comin' for, isn't it?"

The joke was wasted, as all jokes seemed to be upon Mr. Cobb. He did notsmile. 

"What made you come to see me?" he asked, still staring. 

"What made me?"

"Yes. What made you? Have you found--has anybody toldyou--er--anything?"

"Anybody told me! My soul and body! That's what you said when I was herebefore. Do you say it to everybody? What on earth do you mean by it? Whowould tell me anything? And what would they tell?"

Solomon pulled his whiskers. "Nothin', I guess, " he said, after amoment. "Only there's so much fool talk runnin' loose I didn't know butyou might have heard I was--was dead, or somethin'. I ain't. "

"I can see that, I hope. And if you was I shouldn't be traipsin' tenmiles just to look at your remains. Time enough for that at the funeral. Dead! The idea!"

"Um--well, all right; I ain't dead, yet. Set down, won't ye?"

Thankful sat down. Mr. Cobb swung about in his own chair, so that hisface was in the shadow. 

"Hear you've been doin' pretty well with that boardin'-house of yours, "he observed. "Hear it's been full up all summer. "

"Who told you so?"

"Oh, I heard. I hear about all that's goin' on, one way or another. Iwas over there a fortni't ago. "

"You were? Why didn't you stop in and see me? You haven't been there butonce since the place started. "

"Yes, I have. I've been by a good many times. Didn't stop, though. Toomany of them city dudes around to suit me. Did you fetch your Octoberinterest money. "

"No, I didn't. It ain't due till week after next. When it is I'll sendit, same as I have the rest. "

"All right, all right, I ain't askin' you for it. What did you comefor?"

And then Thankful told him. He listened without comment until shehad finished, peering over his spectacles and keeping up the eternal"weeding. "

"There, " concluded Mrs. Barnes, "that's what I came for. Will you doit?"

The answer was prompt enough this time. 

"No, I won't, " said Solomon, with decision. 

Thankful was staggered. 

"You won't?" she repeated. "You won't--"

"I won't lend you no more money. Why should I?"

"You shouldn't, I suppose, if you don't want to. But, the way I look atit, it would be a perfectly safe loan for you. My prospects are fine;everybody says so. "

"Everybody says a whole lot of things. If I'd put up money on whateverybody said I'd be puttin' up at the poorhouse, myself. But I ain'tputtin' up there and I ain't puttin' up the money neither. "

"All right; keep it then--keep it and sleep on it, if you want to. Ican get along without it, I guess; or, if I can't, I can borrow it ofsomebody else. "

"Humph! You're pretty sassy, seems to me, for anybody that's askin'favors. "

"I'm not askin' favors. I told you that when I first come to you. What Iasked was just business and nothin' else. "

"Is that so? As I understand it you're askin' to have a mortgagerenewed. That may be business, or it may be a favor, 'cordin' to how youlook at it. "

Thankful fought down her temper. The renewal of the mortgage was a vitalmatter to her. If it was not renewed what should she do? What could shedo? All she had in the world and all her hopes for the future centeredabout her property in East Wellmouth. If that were taken from her--

"Well, " she admitted, "perhaps it is a favor, then. "

"Perhaps 'tis. Why should I renew that mortgage? I don't cal'late torenew mortgages, as a general thing. Did I say anything about renewin'it when I took it? I don't remember that I did. "

"No, no--I guess you didn't. But I hope you will. If youdon't--I--I--Solomon Cobb, that boardin'-house means everything to me. I've put all I've got in it. It has got the best kind of a start and inanother year--I--I--Please, Oh PLEASE don't close me out. "

"Humph!"

"Please don't. You told me when I was here before what a lot you thoughtof my Uncle Abner. You knew how much he thought of me. When you think ofhim and what he said--"

Mr. Cobb interrupted. "Said?" he repeated, sharply. "What do you mean hesaid? Eh? What do YOU know he said?"

"Why--why, he told you about me. You said yourself he did. How much hethought of me, and all. "

"Is that all you meant?"

"Yes, of course. What else is there to mean? Solomon, you profess to bea Christian. You knew my uncle. He did lots of favors for you; I know hedid. Now--"

"Sshh! shh!" Mr. Cobb seemed strangely perturbed. He waved his hand. "Hush!" he repeated. "What are you draggin' Cap'n Abner and Christianityand all that in for? They ain't got nothin' to do with that mortgage. Who said they had?"

"Why, no one said it. No one said anything; no one but me. I don't knowwhat you mean--"

"Mean! I don't mean nothin'. There! There! Clear out and don't botherme no more today. I'm--I ain't feelin' well. Got a cold comin' on, Ical'late. Clear off home and let me alone. "

"But I can't go until you tell me about that mortgage. "

"Yes, you can, too. I can't tell you about nothin' just now. I got tothink, ain't I? Maybe I'll renew that mortgage and maybe I won't. I'lltell you when I make up my mind. Time enough between now and spring. I--Ah, Ezry, how be you? Come on in. Glad to see you. "

The last portion of the foregoing was addressed to a man who had enteredthe office. Mr. Cobb did look as if he was really glad to see him. 

Thankful rose. "I'll go, " she said, drearily. "I suppose I might aswell. But I shan't sleep much until you make up that mind of yours. Anddo make it up the right way, for my sake--and Uncle Abner's. "

Her relative waved both hands this time. 

"Shh!" he ordered, desperately. "Don't say no more now; I don't want thewhole creation to know my business and yours. Go on home. I--I'll comeover and see you by and by. "

So, because she saw there was no use remaining, Mrs. Barnes went. Thedrive home, through the dismal grayness of the cloudy afternoon, seemedlonger and more trying than the trip over. The dream of raising moneyfor the spring additions and alterations was over; the High Cliff Housemust do its best as it was for another year at least. As to the renewalof the mortgage, there was a faint hope. Mr. Cobb's final remarks hadinspired that hope. He had been on the point of refusing to renew, Thankful was sure of that. Then something was said which caused himto hesitate. Mrs. Barnes looked out between the ears of jogging GeorgeWashington and spoke her thought aloud. 

"It's somethin' to do with Uncle Abner, " she soliloquized. "He don'tlike to have Uncle Abner mentioned. Hum! I wonder what the reason is. Ionly wish I knew. "

To Emily, who was eagerly waiting to hear the result of her cousin'svisit to Solomon Cobb, Thankful told but a portion of the truth. Shedid say, however, that the additional loan appeared to be out of thequestion and she guessed they would have to get on without the neededalterations for another year. Emily thought they should not. 

"If this place is to become really profitable, Auntie, " she insisted, "those changes should be made. I don't see why this Mr. Cobb won't lendyou the money; but, if he won't, then I'm sure someone else will, if youask. Don't you know anyone here in East Wellmouth whom you might ask fora loan--on your prospects?"

"No. No, I don't. "

"Why, yes, you do. There is Captain Bangs, for instance. He is well todo, and I'm sure he is a good friend. Why don't you ask him?"

Thankful's answer was prompt and sharp. 

"Indeed I shan't, " she declared. 

"Then I will. I'll be glad to. "

"Emily Howes, if you say one word to Cap'n Obed about borrowin' moneyfrom him I'll--I'll never speak to you afterwards. Go to Captain Obed. The idea!"

"But why not, Auntie? He IS a friend, and--"

"Of course he is; that's the very reason. He is a friend and he'dprobably lend it because he is, whether he knew he'd ever get it backor not. No, when I borrow money it'll be of somebody that lends it as abusiness deal, not from friendship. "

"But, Auntie, you went to Mr. Cobb because he was your relative. Yousaid that was the very reason why you went to him. "

"Um, yes. Well, I may have GONE to him for that reason, but there ain'tany relationship in that mortgage of his; don't you get the notion thatthere is. "

Emily's next question, naturally, concerned the renewal of thatmortgage. Mrs. Barnes said shortly that she guessed the renewal would beall right. 

"He's comin' over to settle it with me pretty soon, " she added. "Nowdon't worry your head off any more about mortgages and loans, Emily. You're goin' to leave me pretty soon; let's not spend our last daystogether frettin' about money. That mortgage is all right. Maybe theextra loan will be, too. Maybe--why, maybe Mr. Kendrick would lend it, if I asked him. "

"Mr. Kendrick? Why, Auntie, Mr. Kendrick has no money, or only a verylittle. He is doing well--very well, considering how short a time hehas practised his profession here, but I'm sure he has no money to lend. Why, he tells me--"

The expression of Mrs. Barnes' face must have conveyed a meaning; at anyrate Emily's sentence broke off in the middle. She colored and seemedembarrassed. 

Thankful smiled. "Yes, " she observed, drily, "I notice he tells you alot of things--a whole lot more than he does anybody else. Generallyspeakin', he is about the closest-mouthed young man about his personalaffairs that I ever run across. However, I ain't jealous, not a mite. And 'twa'n't of him I was speakin'; 'twas his cousin, Mr. E. HollidayKendrick. He's got money enough, I guess. Maybe he might make a loan ondecent security. He's a possibility. I'll think him over. "

Mr. E. Holliday and his doings were still East Wellmouth's favoriteconversational topics. The great man was preparing to close his summerhouse and return to New York. His family had already gone--to Lenox, where they were to remain for a few weeks and then journey to Florida. E. Holliday remained, several of the servants remaining with him, buthe, too, was to go very soon. There were rumors that he remained becauseof other schemes concerning his new estate. Just what those schemes wereno one seemed to know. If John Kendrick knew he told no one, not evenEmily Howes. 

But E. Holliday himself disclosed his plan and it was to Thankful Barnesthat he did so. He called at the High Cliff House one afternoon andasked to see its proprietor. Thankful was a trifle flustered. It was thefirst call which her wealthy neighbor had made upon her, and she couldnot understand why he came at this late date. 

"For mercy sakes, come into the livin'-room with me, Emily, " she begged. "I shan't know how to act in the face of all that money. "

Emily was much amused. "I never knew you to be frightened of moneybefore, Auntie, " she said. "I thought you were considering borrowingsome of this very--ahem--personage. "

"Maybe I was, though I cal'late I should have took it out inconsideration; I never would have gone to him and asked. But nowthe--what do you call it?--personage--come to me for somethin', the landknows what. "

"Perhaps HE wants to borrow. "

"Humph! Perhaps he does. Well, then, he's fishin' in the wrongpuddle. Emily Howes, stop laughin' and makin' jokes and come into thatlivin'-room same as I ask you to. "

But this Emily firmly declined to do. "He's not my caller, Auntie, " shesaid. "He didn't even ask if I were in. "

So Thankful went into the living-room alone to meet the personage. Andshe closed all doors behind her. "If you won't help you shan't listen, "she declared. "And I don't know's I'll tell you a word after he's gone. "

The call was a long one. It ended in an odd way. Emily, sitting by thedining-room window, heard the front door slam and, looking out, sawMr. Kendrick stalking down the path, a frown on his face and outrageddignity in his bearing. A moment later Thankful burst into thedining-room. Her cheeks were flushed and she looked excited and angry. 

"What do you think that--that walkin' money-bag came here for?" shedemanded. "He came here to tell me I'd got to sell this place to him. Yes, sell it to him, 'cause he wanted it. It didn't seem to make anydifference what I wanted. Well, it will make a difference, I tell youthat!"

When she had calmed sufficiently she told of the interview with herneighbor. E. Holliday had lost no time in stating his position. The HighCliff House, it appeared, was a source of annoyance to him and his. Aboarding-house, no matter how genteel or well-conducted a boarding-houseit may be, could not longer be tolerated in that situation. The boardersirritated him by trespassing upon his premises, by knocking their tennisballs into his garden beds, by bathing and skylarking on the beach inplain sight from his verandas. And the house and barn interfered withhis view. He wished to be perfectly reasonable in the matter; Mrs. Barnes, of course, understood that. He was willing to pay for theprivilege of having his own way. But, boiled down and shorn ofpoliteness and subterfuge, his proposition was that Thankful should sellher property to him, after which he would either tear down the buildingson that property, or move them to a less objectionable site. 

"But, Auntie, " cried Emily, "of course you told him you didn't want tosell. "

"Sartin I did. I told him all I had was invested here, that my firstseason had been a good one considerin' 'twas the first, and that myprospects were all I had a right to hope for. I told him I was sorryif my boarders had plagued him and I'd try to see they didn't do so anymore. But I couldn't think of sellin' out. "

"And what did he say to that?"

"What didn't he say? What I said didn't make a bit of difference. He made proclamation that any reasonable price I might name he wouldconsider. He wouldn't submit to what he called 'extortion' of course, but he would be perfectly fair, and all that. I kept sayin' no and hekept sayin' yes. Our talk got more and more sultry long towards the lastof it. He told me that he made it a p'int to get what he wanted and hewas goin' to get it now. One thing he told me I didn't know afore, and it's kind of odd, too. He said the land this house sits on used tobelong to him once. His father left it to him. He sold it a long whileago, afore my Uncle Abner bought, I guess. Now he's sorry he sold. "

"That was queer, what else did he say?"

"Oh, he said a whole lot about his desire to make East Wellmouth hispermanent residence, about the taxes he paid, and what he meant todo for the town. I told him that was all right and fine and the townappreciated it, but that I'd got to think of myself; this boardin'-houseidea was a life-long ambition of mine and I couldn't give it up. "

"And how did it end?"

"Just where it begun. His last words to me was that if I wouldn't listento reason then he'd have to try other ways. And he warned me that heshould try 'em. I said go ahead and try, or words not quite so sassybut meanin' the same. And out he marched. Oh, Emily, WHAT do you supposehe'll try? He can't MAKE me sell out, can he? Oh, dear! Oh, dear! here'smore trouble. And I thought there was enough already!"

Emily did her best to reassure her relative, telling the latter that ofcourse she could not be forced into parting with what was her own andthat Mr. Kendrick was talking merely for effect; but it was plain thatMiss Howes herself was troubled. 

"I think you should consult a lawyer, Auntie, " she said. "I am sure Iam right, and that that man can't make you do what you don't want to do. But I don't know, of course, and a lawyer would know because that ishis business. Why don't you ask John--Mr. John Kendrick, I mean? He willadvise you. "

Thankful nodded. "I will, " she said. 

But John did not come home for dinner that night. He had business whichcalled him to Wellmouth Centre that afternoon and it was late in theevening when he returned. Heman Daniels was late for dinner also, and when he entered the dining-room there was an air of mystery andimportance about him which everyone noticed. Miss Timpson, who seldompermitted reticence to interfere with curiosity, asked him what was thematter. 

"I do declare, Mr. Daniels, " she said, "you look as if you had the caresof the nation on your shoulders tonight. Has anything gone wrong withone of those important cases of yours?"

Mr. Daniels shook his head. "No, " he answered, gravely. "My cases areprogressing satisfactorily. My worries just now are not professional. I heard some news this afternoon which--er--upset me somewhat, that isall. "

"News? Upsettin' news? Land sakes, do tell us! What is it?"

But Mr. Daniels refused to tell. The news concerned other people, hesaid, and he was not at liberty to tell. He trusted Miss Timpson wouldexcuse him under the circumstances. 

Miss Timpson was therefore obliged to excuse him, though it was plainthat she did so under protest. She made several more or less directattempts to learn the secret and, failing, went out to attendprayer-meeting. Caleb Hammond went out also, though the club, notprayer-meeting, was his announced destination. Heman finished his dinneralone. When he had finished he sent word by Imogene that when Miss Howeswas at liberty he should like to speak with her. 

Emily, who was in the kitchen with Thankful and Captain Obed, the latterhaving, as usual, dropped in on his way to the postoffice, seemed in nohurry to speak with Mr. Daniels. It was not until half an hour later, when the message was repeated, that she bade the captain good night andstarted for the living-room. Captain Obed and Thankful smiled at eachother. 

"Heman's a heap more anxious to see her than she is to see him, "observed the former. "He's pretty fur gone in that direction, judgin' bythe weather signs. "

Thankful nodded. 

"I cal'late that's so, " she agreed. "Still, he's been just as fur gonewith others, if all they say's true. Mr. Daniels is a fascinator, soeverybody says. "

"Yup. Prides himself on it, always seemed to me. But there generallycomes a time when that kind of a lady-killer gets hit himself. Lots offemales have been willin' to marry Heman, but he's never given 'em thechance. About so fur he'll go and then shy off. "

"How about that widow woman over to Bayport?"

"Well, I did think he was goin' to cast anchor there, but he ain't, upto now. That widow's wuth a lot of money--her husband owned any quantityof cranberry bog property--and all hands cal'lated Heman had his eyeon it. Maybe he and the widow would have signed articles only for MissHowes heavin' in sight. "

"Well, I suppose he's a good man; I never heard a word against him thatway. And he's a risin' lawyer--"

"Yes--or riz. "

"Yes. But--but I somehow wouldn't want Emily to marry him. "

Captain Obed agreed heartily. "Neither would I, " he declared. Then, after a moment, he added: "Hasn't it seemed to you that John Kendrickwas kind of--well, kind of headin' up towards--towards--"

"Yes. Ye-es, I have thought so. I joke Emily a little about himsometimes. "

"So do I, John. How do you think she"--with a jerk of the head towardthe living-room--"feels--er--that way?"

"I don't know. She likes him, I'm sure of that. But, so fur as I know, there's no understandin' between them. And, anyhow, John couldn't thinkof gettin' married, not for a long spell. He hasn't got any money. "

"No, not yet he ain't, but he will have some day, or I miss my guess. He's gettin' more popular on the Cape all the time, and popular inthe right places, too. Why, the last time I was in South Denboro Cap'nElisha Warren spoke to me about him, and if Cap'n 'Lisha gets interestedin a young feller it means a lot. 'Lisha's got a lot of influence. "

"You say you joke with John about Emily. How's he take the jokes?"

"Oh, he takes 'em all right. You can't get him mad by teasin'him, 'cause he won't tease. He generally comes right back at meabout--er--that is--"

"About what?"

"Oh--nothin'. Just nonsense, that's all. Well, I cal'late I'd better begoin' if I want to fetch the postoffice afore it's shut up. "

But he was destined not to "fetch" the postoffice that night. He hadrisen to go when the dining-room door opened and Emily appeared. Herface was flushed, and she seemed excited and angry. 

"Auntie, " she said, sharply, "Auntie, will you come into the living-rooma moment. I want you to hear what that--what Mr. Daniels says. Don'tstop to talk. Come! Captain Bangs, you may come, too. You are--are hisfriend and you should hear it. "

Surprised and puzzled, Thankful and the captain followed her through thedining-room to the living-room. There they found Heman Daniels, standingby the center table, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable. 

"Now, Mr. Daniels, " said Emily, "I want you to tell my cousin andCaptain Bangs just what you have told me. It's not true--I know it's nottrue, and I want them to be able to contradict such a story. Tell them. "

Heman fidgeted with the paper-cutter on the table. 

"I merely told Miss Howes, " he said, nervously, "what was told me. Itwas told me by one of the parties most interested and so I accepted itas the truth. I--I have no personal interest in the matter. As--as afriend and--and a lawyer--I offered my services, that is all. I--"

He was interrupted by the opening of the front door. John Kendrick, wearing his light overcoat, and hat in hand, entered the living-room. 

"I'm awfully sorry to be so late, Mrs. Barnes, " he began. "I wasdetained at the Centre. Hello, Captain! Good evening, Daniels! Goodevening, Miss Howes!"

Captain Obed and Thankful said, "Good evening. " Neither Emily nor Hemanreturned the greeting. John, for the first time, appeared to noticethat something was wrong. He looked from Mrs. Barnes to Captain Bangs, standing together at one side of the table, and at Daniels and Emilyat the other side. Heman had moved closer to the young lady, and in hismanner was a hint of confidential understanding, almost of protection. 

Kendrick looked from one pair to the other. When he next spoke it was toEmily Howes. 

"Why, what's the matter?" he asked, with a smile. "This looks like acouncil of war. "

Emily did not smile. 

"Mr. Kendrick, " she said, "I am very glad you came. Now you can deny ityourself. "

John gazed at her in puzzled surprise. 

"Deny it?" he repeated. "Deny what?"

Before Miss Howes could answer Heman Daniels spoke. 

"Kendrick, " he said, importantly, "Miss Howes has heard somethingconcerning you which she doesn't like to believe. "

"Indeed? Did she hear it from you, may I ask?"

"She did. "

"And that is why she doesn't believe it? Daniels, I'm surprised. Evenlawyers should occasionally--"

Emily interrupted. "Oh, stop!" she cried. "Don't joke, please. This isnot a joking matter. If what I have been told IS true I should--But Iknow it isn't--I KNOW it!"

John bowed. "Thank you, " he said. "What have you heard?"

"She has heard--" began Heman. 

"Pardon me, Daniels. I asked Miss Howes. "

Emily began a reply, but she did not finish it. 

"I have been told--" she began. "I have been told--Oh, I can't tell you!I am ashamed to repeat such wicked nonsense. Mr. Daniels may tell you;it was he who told me. "

John turned to his fellow practitioner. 

"Very well, " he said. "Now, Daniels, what is it?"

Heman did not hesitate. 

"Miss Howes has heard, " he said, deliberately, "that your client, Mr. Holliday Kendrick, is determined to force Mrs. Barnes here into sellinghim this house and land, to force her to sell whether she wishes it ornot. Is that true?"

John nodded, gravely. 

"I'm afraid it is, " he said. "He seems quite determined. In fact, hesaid he had expressed that determination to the lady herself. He didthat, didn't he, Mrs. Barnes?"

Thankful, who had been so far a perplexed and troubled listener, answered. 

"Why, yes, " she admitted. "He was here today and he give me tounderstand that he wanted this property of mine and was goin' to haveit. If I wouldn't agree to sell it to him now then he'd drive me intosellin' later on. That's about what he said. "

Captain Obed struck his fists together. 

"The swab!" he exclaimed. "Well, if that don't beat all my goin' to sea!Humph! I'd like to know how he cal'lates to do it. "

"Anything more, Daniels?" inquired John. 

"Yes, there is something more. What we want to know from you, Kendrick, is whether or not you, as his legal adviser, propose to help him in thisscheme of his. That is what we wish to know. "

"We? What we? Has Mrs. Barnes--or Miss Howes--have they engaged you astheir attorney, Daniels?"

Before Daniels could reply Emily asked a question. 

"Did he--has he asked you to help him?" she demanded. "Has he?"

John smiled. "I doubt if it could be called asking, " he observed. "Hegave me orders to that effect shortly after he left here. "

Emily gasped. Thankful and Captain Obed said, "Oh!" in concert. HemanDaniels smiled triumphantly. 

"You see, Miss Howes?" he said. 

"One moment, Daniels, " broke in Kendrick, sharply. "You haven't answeredmy question yet. Just where do you come in on this?"

"I--I--" began Daniels, but once more Emily interrupted. 

"Are you--" she cried. "Tell me; are you going to help that man force mycousin into giving up her home?"

Again John smiled. "Well, to be frank, " he said, "since it IS her homeand she doesn't wish to sell it I can't for the life of me see how shecan be forced into selling, with or without my valuable aid. Miss Howes, I--"

"Stop! You persist in treating this affair as a joke. It is NOT ajoke--to my cousin, or to me. Did you tell that man you would help him?"

"No. "

"I knew it! I was certain of it! Of course you didn't!"

"Pardon me, Miss Howes, " put in Daniels. "We have not heard all yet. Kendrick, do I understand that you told your cousin and--er--benefactorthat you would NOT help him in his infamous scheme?"

John's patience was nearing its limits. He smiled no more. 

"I don't know what you understand, Daniels, " he said, crisply. "Yourunderstanding in many matters is beyond me. "

"But did you say you would not help him?" persisted Emily. 

"Why no, not exactly. He did not wait to hear what I had to say. Heseemed to take my assistance for granted. "

Daniels laughed scornfully. 

"You see, Miss Howes?" he said again. Then, turning to Thankful: "Mrs. Barnes, I met Mr. Holliday Kendrick on the street just after he had comefrom the interview with his--er--attorney. He told me that he intendedto force you into giving up your property to him and he told me alsothat his cousin here had the case in his hands and would work tocarry it through. There seemed to be no doubt in his mind that thisgentleman, " indicating John, "had accepted the responsibility. In facthe said he had. "

Captain Obed snorted. "That's plaguy nonsense!" he declared. "I knowbetter. John ain't that kind of feller. You wouldn't help anybody toturn a woman out of her house and home, would you, John? Course youwouldn't. The swab! Just 'cause he's got money he cal'lates he can runeverything. Well, he can't. "

"Goodness knows I hope he can't!" moaned Thankful. 

"And in the meantime we are waiting to hear what his lawyer has to say, "observed Heman. 

John stepped forward. "Daniels, " he said, "it strikes me that your'we's' are a bit frequent. Why are you interfering in this affair?"

Mr. Daniels drew himself up. "I am not interfering, " he replied. "Myinterest is purely that of a friend. AS a friend I told Miss Howeswhat your cousin said to me. She seemed to doubt my word. In justice tomyself I propose to prove that I have spoken the truth, that is all. Sofar I think I may say that I have proved it. Now I demand to know whatyou intend doing. Are you for Mrs. Barnes or against her?"

"So you demand that, do you?"

"I do. Will you answer?"

"No. "

"Ah ha! I thought not. "

"I'll answer no demands from you. Why should I? If Mrs. Barnes or MissHowes asks me I will answer, of course. "

"Mr. Kendrick--" began Thankful. Emily interrupted. 

"Wait, Auntie, " she said. "He must answer me first. Mr. Kendrick, whenthat man came to you with his 'orders, ' as you call them, you must havehad some opportunity to speak. Why didn't you refuse at once?"

For the first time John hesitated. "Well, " he said, slowly, "for onereason I was taken completely by surprise. "

"So was Aunt Thankful, when he came to her. But she refused. "

"And, for another, there were certain circumstances which made it hardto refuse point-blank. In a way, I suppose Mr. Kendrick was justified inassuming that I would work for his interests. I accepted his retainingfee. You remember that I hesitated before doing so, but--but I didaccept, and I have acted as his attorney since. I--"

"Stop! I did not ask for excuses. I ask you, as Mr. Daniels asked, areyou for my cousin or against her?"

"And I ask you what is Mr. Daniels' warrant for asking me anything?"

"Answer my question! Will you fight for my cousin's rights, or have yousold yourself to--to this benefactor of yours?"

John flushed at the repetition of the word. 

"I have tried to give value received for whatever benefactions have comemy way, " he said, coldly. "This matter may be different; in a way itis. But not as Mr. Holliday Kendrick sees it. When a lawyer accepts aretaining fee--not for one case but for all cases which his client maygive him--he is, by the ethics of his profession, honor bound to--"

"Honor!" scornfully. "Suppose we omit the 'honor'. "

"That is not easy to do. I AM my cousin's attorney. But, as Mrs. Barnes'friend and yours, I--"

Emily stamped her foot. "Friend!" she cried. "I don't care for suchfriends. I have heard enough. I don't wish to hear any more. You wereright, Mr. Daniels. I apologize for doubting your word. Aunt Thankful, you must settle this yourself. I--I am through. I--I am going. Pleasedon't stop me. "

She was on her way to the door of the dining-room. Heman Daniels calledher name. 

"One minute, Miss Howes, " he said. "I trust you will not forget you haveone friend who will be only too glad to work for Mrs. Barnes' interestsand yours. I am at your service. "

"Thank you, thank you, Mr. Daniels. I--I have no doubt we shall needyour services. But please don't--"

John Kendrick was at her side. 

"Miss Howes--Emily--" he pleaded. "Don't misunderstand me. "

She burst out at him like, as Captain Obed said afterward, "an Augustthunder tempest. "

"Misunderstand!" she repeated. "I don't misunderstand. I understandquite well. Don't speak to me again. "

The door closed behind her. Thankful, after an instant's hesitation, hurried out after her. 

"Excuse me, gentlemen, " said Daniels, and followed Mrs. Barnes. 

Captain Obed turned to his friend. 

"For the Lord sakes, John!" he shouted. "What in the everlastin' do youmean? What did you let her go that way for? Why didn't you tell her youwouldn't do it?"

But Kendrick paid not the slightest attention. He was gazing at the doorthrough which Emily and Thankful had disappeared. His face was white. 

"John, " repeated the captain. 

"Hush!" ordered John. He strode to the door and opened it. 

"Emily!" he cried. "Emily!"

There was no answer. John waited a moment and then turned and walked tothe window, where he raised the shade and stood looking out. 

"John, " said the captain again. 

"Hush! Don't say anything to me now. "

So Captain Obed did not speak. A few minutes later the dining-room dooropened and Mr. Daniels entered. His expression was one of complete, notto say malicious, satisfaction. John turned at the opening of the door. 

"Emily, " he began. Then, seeing Daniels, he remained silent, looking athim. 

"Kendrick, " said Heman, with dignity, "in the matter which we have justbeen discussing you will hereafter deal with me. That is Mrs. Barnes'wish and also Miss Howes'. "

John did not reply. Once more he walked to the door and opened it. 

"Miss Howes!" he called. "Emily! If you will let me explain--Emily!"

"I'll go fetch her, " declared Captain Obed. John pushed him back. 

"Don't interfere, Captain, " he said, sharply. "Emily!"

No answer. Daniels made the next remark. 

"I'm afraid you don't get the situation, Kendrick, " he said. "NeitherMiss Howes nor Mrs. Barnes cares to see you or speak with you. Afterthis you are to deal with me. They have asked me, as a FRIEND, "emphasizing the word, "to act as their representative in this and allmatters. "

John turned and looked at the speaker. 

"In all matters?" he asked, slowly. 

"Yes sir, in all. "

"And they refuse to see me?"

"It would--er--seem so. . . . Is there anything further, Kendrick? Ifnot then this affair between your--er--client and mine would appear tobe a matter of skill for you and me to contest. We'll see who wins. "

John still looked at him. 

"So that's it then, " he said, after a moment. "You and I are todetermine which is the better lawyer?"

"So it would seem. Though, considering my record and experience, I don'tknow that--"

"That such a test is necessary? I don't know that it is, either. Butwe'll have it. "

He walked from the room and they heard him ascending the stairs. CaptainObed swore aloud. Heman Daniels laughed. 

CHAPTER XI

The next morning the captain was an early caller. Breakfast at theHigh Cliff House was scarcely over when he knocked at the kitchen door. Imogene opened the door. 

"Mr. Kendrick ain't here, " she said, in answer to the caller's question. "He's gone. "

"Gone? So early? Where's he gone; down to his office?"

"I don't know. He's gone, that's all I do know. He didn't stop for anybreakfast either. "

"Humph! That's funny. Where's Mrs. Thankful?"

"She's up in Miss Emily's room. Miss Emily didn't come down to breakfastneither. I'll tell Mrs. Barnes you're here. "

When Thankful came she looked grave enough. 

"I'm awful glad to see you, Cap'n, " she said. "I've been wantin' to talkto some sane person; the one I've been talkin' to ain't sane, not now. Come into the dinin'-room. Imogene, you needn't finish clearin' awaytill I tell you to. You stay in the kitchen here. "

When she and Captain Obed were in the dining-room alone, and with bothdoors closed, Thankful told of the morning's happenings. 

"They're bad enough, too, " she declared. "Almost as bad as that sillybusiness last night--or worse, if such a thing's possible. To beginwith, Mr. John Kendrick's gone. "

"Yes, Imogene said he'd gone. But what made him go so early?"

"You don't understand, Cap'n. I mean he's gone--gone for good. He isn'tgoin' to board or room here any more. "

Captain Obed whistled. "Whew!" he exclaimed. "You don't mean it?"

"I wish I didn't, but I do. I didn't see him this mornin', he went tooearly for that, but he took his suitcase and his trunk is all packed andlocked. He left a note for me with a check for his room rent and boardin it. The note said that under the circumstances he presumed I wouldagree 'twas best for him to go somewheres else at once. He thanked mefor my kindness, and said some real nice things--but he's gone. "

"Tut! tut! Dear, dear! Where's he gone to? Did he say?"

"No, I've told you all he said. I suppose likely I ought to haveexpected it, and perhaps, if he is goin' to work for that cousin of hisand against me, it's best that he shouldn't stay here; but I'll miss himawful--a good deal more'n I miss the money he's paid me, and the landknows I need that. I can't understand why he acted the way he did lastnight. It don't seem like him at all. "

"Humph! I should say it didn't. And it ain't like him either. There's anigger in the woodpile somewheres; I wish I could smoke the critter out. What's Emily say about his goin'?"

"She don't say anything. She won't talk about him at all, and she won'tlet me mention his name. The poor girl looks as if she'd had a hardnight of it, but she looks, too, as if her mind was made up so fur's hewas concerned. "

Captain Obed pulled at his beard. 

"She didn't give him much of a chance last evenin', seemed to me, " hesaid. "If she'd only come back when he called after her that time, Ical'late he was goin' to say somethin'; but she didn't come. Wouldn'tanswer him at all. "

"Did he call after her? I didn't hear him and I don't think she did. When she slammed out of that livin'-room she went right up the backstairs to her bedroom and I chased after her. She was cryin', or nextdoor to it, and I wanted to comfort her. But she wouldn't let me. "

"I see. Probably she didn't hear him call at all. He did, though; andhe called her by her first name. Matters between 'em must have gonefurther'n we thought they had. "

"Yes, I guess that's so. Do you know, Cap'n, I wouldn't wonder if Mr. Daniels knew that and that was why he was so--so nasty to Mr. Kendricklast night. Well, I'm afraid it's all off now. Emily's awful proud andshe's got a will of her own. "

"Um, so I should judge. And John's will ain't all mush and molasseseither. That's the worst of young folks. I wonder how many good matcheshave been broke off just by two young idiots lettin' their prideinterfere with their common-sense. I wish you and me had a dime forevery one that had; you wouldn't have to keep boarders, and I wouldn'thave to run sailin' parties with codfish passengers. "

"That's so. But, Cap'n Bangs, DO you think Mr. Kendrick is goin' to tryand force me into sellin' out just 'cause his boss says so? It don'tseem as if he could. Why, he--he's seemed so grateful for what I've donefor him. He said once I couldn't be kinder if I was his own mother. Itdon't seem as if he could treat me so, just for the money there was init. But, Oh dear!" as the thought of Mr. Solomon Cobb crossed her mind, "seems as if some folks would do anything for money. "

"John wouldn't. I've known of his turnin' down more'n one case therewas money in account of its bein' more fishy than honest. No, if he doeswork for that--that half Holliday cousin of his on this job, it'll bebecause he's took the man's money and feels he can't decently say no. But I don't believe he will. No, sir-ee! I tell you there's a darky inthis kindlin' pile. I'm goin' right down to see John this minute. "

He went, but, instead of helping the situation, he merely made it worse. He found John seated at his office desk apparently engaged in his oldoccupation, that of looking out of the window. The young man's face waspale and drawn, but his manner was perfectly calm. 

"Hello, Captain, " he observed, as his caller entered. "I trust you'vetaken the necessary precautions, fumigated and all that sort of thing. "

"Fumigated?"

"Why, yes. Unless I'm greatly mistaken, this office is destinedto become the den of the moral leper. As soon as my respectedfellow-townsmen, the majority of them, learn that I am to battle withHeman the Great, and in such a cause, I shall be shunned and, so tospeak, spat upon. You're taking big chances by coming here. "

The captain grunted. "Umph!" he sniffed. "They don't know it yet;neither do I. "

"Ah yes, but they will shortly. Daniels will take care that they do. "

"John, for thunder sakes--"

"Better escape contagion while you can, Captain. Unclean! Unclean!"

"Aw, belay, John! I don't feel like jokin'. What you've got to tell menow is that it ain't so. You ain't goin' to--to try to--to--"

His friend interrupted. "Captain Bangs, " he said, sharply, "this is apractical world we live in. You and I have had that preached to us; atleast I have and you were present during the sermon. I don't know howyou feel, of course; but henceforth I propose to be the most practicalman you ever saw. "

"Consarn your practicality! Are you goin' to help that--that gold-dusttwin--that cussed relation of yours, grab Thankful Barnes' house andland from her?"

"Look here, Bangs; when the--gold-dust twin isn't bad--when the twinoffered me the position of his attorney and the blanket retainer alongwith it, who was it that hesitated concerning my acceptance? You? Idon't remember that you did. Neither did--others. But I did acceptbecause--well, because. Now the complications are here, and what then?"

"John--John Kendrick, if you dast to set there and tell me you'recal'latin' to--you can't do it! You can't be goin' to try such a--"

"Oh, yes, I can. I may not succeed, but I can try. "

Captain Obed seldom lost his temper, but he lost it now. 

"By the everlastin'!" he roared. "And this is the young feller that I'vebeen holdin' up and backin' up as all that's fair and above board! JohnKendrick, do you realize--"

"Easy, Captain, easy. Perhaps I realize what I'm doing better than youdo. "

"You don't neither. Emily Howes--"

John's interruption was sharper now. 

"That'll do, Bangs, " he said. "Suppose we omit names. "

"No, we won't omit 'em. I tell you you don't realize. You're drivin'that girl right straight to Heman Daniels, that's what you're doin'. "

Kendrick smiled. "I should say there was no driving necessary, " heobserved. "Daniels seems to be already the chosen guardian and adviser. I do realize what I'm doing, Captain, and, " deliberately, "I shall doit. "

"John, Emily--"

"Hush! I like you, Captain Obed. I don't wish to quarrel with you. Takemy advice and omit that young lady's name. "

Captain Obed made one last appeal. 

"John, " he pleaded, desperately, "don't! I know you're sort of--sortof tied up to Holliday Kendrick; I know you feel that you are. But thisain't a question of professional honor and that kind of stuff. It'sright and wrong. "

"Is it? I think not. I was quite willing to discuss the rights andwrongs, but I had no--however, that is past. I was informed last night, and in your hearing, that the question was to be purely a matter oflegal skill--of law--between Daniels and myself. Very well; I am alawyer. Good morning, Captain Bangs. "

The captain left the office, still protesting. He was hurt and angry. It was not until later he remembered he had not told Kendrick that HemanDaniels must have spoken without authority when he declared himself thechosen representative of Mrs. Barnes and Emily in all matters betweenthe pair and John. Heman could not have been given such authoritybecause, according to Thankful's story, she and Miss Howes hadimmediately gone upstairs after leaving the living-room. Danielscould have spoken with them again that evening. But when Captain Obedremembered this it was too late. Thankful had asked Mr. Daniels to takeher case, provided the attempt at ousting her from her property everreached legal proceedings. And Emily Howes left East Wellmouth two dayslater. 

She had not intended to leave for South Middleboro so soon; she hadplanned to remain another week before going back to her school duties. But there came a letter from the committee asking her to return as soonas possible and she suddenly announced her determination to go at once. 

Thankful at first tried to dissuade her, but soon gave up the attempt. It was quite evident that Emily meant to go and equally certain, in hercousin's mind, that the reason for the sudden departure was the scenewith John Kendrick. Emily refused to discuss the latter's conduct or topermit the mention of his name. She seemed reluctant even to speak ofthe Holliday Kendrick matter, although all of East Wellmouth was nowtalking of little else. When Mrs. Barnes, driven to desperation, beggedher to say what should be done, she shook her head. 

"I wish I could tell you, Auntie, " she said, "but I can't. Perhaps youdon't need to do anything yet. Mr. Daniels says the idea that that mancan force you into selling is ridiculous. "

"I know he does. But I'm a woman, Emily, and what I don't know about lawwould fill a bigger library than there is in this town by a consider'blesight. It's always the woman, particularly a widow woman, that gets theworst of it in this kind of thing. I'd feel better if I knew somebodywas lookin' out for me. Oh dear, if only Mr. John Kendrick hadn't--"

"Auntie, please. "

"Yes, I know. But it don't seem as if he could act so to me. It don'tseem--"

"Hush! It is quite evident he can. Don't say any more. "

"Well, I won't. But what shall I do? Shall I put it all in Mr. Daniels'hands? He says he'll be glad to help; in fact about everybody thinks heis helpin', I guess. Hannah Parker told me--"

"Don't, Auntie, don't. Put it in Mr. Daniels' hands, if you think best. I suppose it is all you can do. Yes, let Mr. Daniels handle it for you. "

"All right. I'll tell him you and I have agreed--"

"No. Tell him nothing of the sort. Don't bring my name into the matter. "

"But, Emily, you don't think I ought to sell--"

"No! No! Of course I don't think so. If I were you I should fight to thelast ditch. I would never give in--never! Oh, Auntie, I feel wicked andmean to leave you now, with all this new trouble; but I must--I must. Ican't stay here--I--"

"There, there, Emily, dear! I understand, I guess. I know how hard it isfor you. And I thought so much of him, too. I thought he was such a fineyoung--"

"Aunt Thankful, are you daring to hint that I--I--care in the least forthat--him? How dare you insinuate such a thing to me? I--I despise him!"

"Yes, yes, " hastily. "Course you do, course you do. Well, we won't worryabout that, any of it. Mr. Daniels says there's nothin' to worry aboutanyhow, and I'll tell him he can do what he thinks ought to be done whenit's necessary. Now let's finish up that packin' of yours, dearie. "

Thankful did not trust herself to accompany her cousin to WellmouthCentre. She was finding it hard enough to face the coming separationwith outward cheerfulness, and the long ride to the railway stationshe found to be too great a strain. So she made the lameness of GeorgeWashington's off fore leg an excuse for keeping that personage in thestable, and it was in Winnie S. 's depot-wagon that Emily journeyed tothe Centre. 

They said good-by at the front gate. Emily, too, was trying to appearcheerful, and the parting was hurried. 

"Good-by, Auntie, " she said. "Take care of yourself. Write often and Iwill answer, I promise you. I know you'll be lonely after I've gone, but I have a plan--a secret. If I can carry it through you won't be SOlonely, I'm pretty sure. And don't worry, will you? The mortgage is allright and as for the other thing--well, that will be all right, too. Youwon't worry, will you?"

"No, no; I'll be too busy to worry. And you'll come down for theChristmas vacation? You will, won't you?"

"I'll try . . . I mean I will if I can arrange it. Good-by, dear. "

The depot-wagon rattled out of the yard. Winnie S. Pulled up at the gateto shout a bit of news. 

"Say, Mrs. Barnes, " he yelled, "we got one of your boarders over to ourplace now. John Kendrick's come there to live. Lots of folks are downon him 'count of his heavin' you over and takin' up along with Mr. Holliday; but Dad says he don't care about that so long's he pays hisboard reg'lar. Git dap, Old Hundred!"

A last wave of Thankful's hand, the answering wave of a handkerchieffrom the rear seat of the depot-wagon, and the parting was over. Thankful went into the house. Lonely! She had never been more lonelyin her life, except when the news of her husband's death was broughtto her. The pang of loneliness which followed her brother Jedediah'sdeparture for the Klondike was as nothing to this. She had promised notto worry, and she must keep that promise, but there was certainly plentyto cause worry. The mortgage which Emily had so comfortably declared"all right" was far from that. Solomon Cobb had not been near her sincetheir interview. He had not yet said that he would renew the mortgagewhen it fell due. Mrs. Barnes began to fear that he did not intend torenew it. 

Heman Daniels, when he came in for supper, seemed disturbed to find thatMiss Howes had gone. Somehow or other he had gained the impression thatshe was to leave the next morning. 

"Did she--did Miss Howes leave no message for me?" he inquired, with acarelessness which, to Thankful, seemed more assumed than real. 

"No, " answered the latter, "no, unless you call it a message abouttakin' the responsibility of Holliday Kendrick and his schemes offmy hands. That is, " remembering Emily's desire not to have her namementioned in the matter, "she didn't leave that. But I guess you cantake charge of that mess, if you want to. "

Mr. Daniels smiled a superior smile. "I intended doing so, " he said, "as a matter of friendship, Mrs. Barnes. You may rest easy. I have takenpains to let the town-folks know that your interests are mine and Ithink our--er--late--er--friend is learning what our best citizens thinkof his attitude. "

There was truth in this statement. John Kendrick had foreseen the effectupon his popularity which his espousal of his wealthy relative's causemight have and his prophecy concerning "moral leprosy" was in process offulfillment. Opinion in the village was divided, of course. There weresome who, like Darius Holt, announced that they did not blame the youngyellow. E. Holliday had money and influence and, as a business man, hisattorney would be a fool not to stick by the cash-box. But there wereothers, and these leading citizens and hitherto good friends, who openlyexpressed disgust both with the rich man and his lawyer. Several ofthese citizens called upon Thankful to tell her of their sympathy and oftheir wish to help her in any way. 

"Not that you're liable to need help, " said one caller. "This property'syours and even John D. Himself couldn't get it from you unless you werewillin'. But it's a dirty trick just the same and young Kendrick, thatall hands thought was so straight and honest, takin' part in it is thedirtiest thing in it. Well, he's hurt himself more'n he has anybodyelse. "

Captain Obed Bangs was a gloomy man that fall. He had always liked Johnand the liking had grown to an ardent admiration and affection. He madeseveral attempts to speak with the young man on the subject, but thelatter would not discuss it. He was always glad to see the captain andquite willing to talk of anything but Mrs. Barnes' property and of EmilyHowes. These topics were taboo and Captain Obed soon ceased to mentionthem. Also he no longer made daily calls at the ex-barber-shop and, in spite of himself, could not help showing, when he did call, theresentment he felt. John noticed this and there was a growing coldnessbetween the two. 

"But, " declared the captain, stoutly, when he and Thankful weretogether, "I still say 'tain't so. I give in that it looks as if 'twas, but I tell you there's a nigger in the woodpile somewheres. Some dayhe'll be dug out and then there's a heap of tattle-tales and characternaggers in this town that'll find they've took the wrong channel. They'll be good and seasick, that's what they'll be. "

Mr. E. Holliday Kendrick, if he knew that his own popularity hadsuffered a shock, did not appear to care. He went on with his plansfor enlarging his estate and, when he left East Wellmouth for New York, which he did early in October, told those who asked him that he hadleft the purchase of the "boarding-house nuisance" in the hands of hisattorney. "I shall have that property, " he announced, emphatically. "Imay not get it for some time, but I shall get it. I make it a point toget what I go after. "

Emily, in her letters, those written soon after her arrival in SouthMiddleboro, said nothing concerning her plan, the "secret" which was tocheer Mrs. Barnes' loneliness. Thankful could not help wondering whatthe secret might be, but in her own letters she asked no questions. And, one day in mid-October, that secret was divulged. 

Thankful, busy in the kitchen with Imogene, preparing dinner, heard thesound of wheels and horse's hoofs in the yard. Going to the door, shewas surprised to see Captain Obed Bangs climbing from a buggy. The buggywas her own and the horse to which it was attached was her own GeorgeWashington. Upon the seat of the buggy was a small boy. Thankful merelyglanced at the boy; her interest just then centered upon the fact thatthe captain was, or apparently had been, using her horse and buggywithout her knowledge or consent. She certainly had no objection to hisso using it, but it was most unlike him to do so. 

"Good mornin', ma'am, " he hailed, cheerfully. His eyes were twinklingand he appeared to be in high good humor. 

"Why, good mornin', Cap'n, " said Thankful. "I--you--you're goin'somewhere, I should judge. "

The captain shook his head. "No, " he replied, "I've been. Had an errandup to the Centre. I knew somethin' was comin' on the mornin' train so Idrove up to fetch it. Thought you wouldn't mind my usin' your horse andbuggy. Imogene knew I was usin' it. "

Thankful was surprised. "She did?" she repeated. "That's funny. Shedidn't say a word to me. "

"No, I told her not to. You see, the--the somethin' I was expectin' wasfor you, so I thought we'd make it a little surprise. Emily--Miss Howes, she sent it. "

"Emily--sent somethin' to me?"

"Yup. "

"For the land sakes! Well, " after a moment, "did it come? Where is it?"

"Oh, yes, it came. It's right there in the buggy. Don't you see it?"

Thankful looked at the buggy. The only thing in it, so far as she couldsee, was the little boy on the seat. The little boy grinned. 

"Hello, Aunt Thankful, " he said. "I've come to stay with you, I have. "

Thankful started, stared, and then made a rush for the buggy. 

"Georgie Hobbs!" she cried. "You blessed little scamp! Come here to methis minute. Well, well, well!"

Georgie came and was received with a bear hug and a shower of kisses. 

"Well, well!" repeated Thankful. "And to think I didn't know you! I'mashamed of myself. And you're the surprise, I suppose. You ARE one, sureand sartin. How did you get here?"

"I came on the cars, " declared Georgie, proudly. "Ma and Emmie put me on'em and told me to sit right still until I got to Wellmouth Centre andthen get off. And I did, too; didn't I, Mr. --I mean Captain Bangs. "

"You bet you did!" agreed the delighted captain. "That's some relationyou've got there, Mrs. Barnes. He's little but Oh my! He and I have hada good talk on the way down. We got along fust-rate; hey, commodore? Thecommodore's agreed to ship second-mate along with me next v'yage I make, if I ever make one. "

Thankful held her "relation"--he was Emily's half-brother and her ownfavorite next to Emily herself in that family--at arm's length. "Youblessed little--little mite!" she exclaimed. "So you come 'way down hereall alone just to see your old auntie. Did you ever in your life! And Isuppose you're the 'secret' Emily said she had, the one that was to keepme from bein' lonesome. "

Georgie nodded. "Yes, " he said. "Emmie, she's wrote you all about me. I've got the letter pinned inside of me here, " patting his small chest. "And I'm goin' to stay ever so long, I am. I want to see the pig and thehens and the--and the orphan, and everything. "

"So you shall, " declared Thankful. "I'm glad enough to see you to turnthe house inside out if you wanted to look at it. And you knew all aboutthis, I suppose?" turning to Captain Obed. 

The captain laughed aloud. 

"Sartin I did, " he said. "Miss Howes and I have been writin' each otherlike a couple of courtin' young folks. I knew the commodore was goin'to set sail today and I was on hand up to the depot to man the yards. Forgive me for hookin' your horse and buggy, will you, Mrs. Thankful?"

Forgiveness was granted. Thankful would have forgiven almost anythingjust then. The "commodore" announced that he was hungry and he washurried into the house. The cares of travel had not taken away hisappetite. He was introduced to Imogene, at whom he stared fixedly fora minute or more and then asked if she was the "orphan. " When told thatshe was he asked if her mamma and papa were truly dead. Imogene said sheguessed they were. Then Georgie asked why, and, after then, what madethem that way, adding the information that he had a kitty that went deadone time and wasn't any good any more. 

The coming of the "commodore" brought a new touch of life to the HighCliff House, which had settled down for its winter nap. Thankful, ofcourse, read Emily's letter at the first opportunity. Emily wrote thatshe felt sure Georgie would be company for her cousin and that she hadconceived the idea of the boy's visit before leaving East Wellmouth, buthad said nothing because she was not sure mother would consent. But thatconsent had been granted and Georgie might stay until Christmas, perhapseven after that if he was not too great a care. 

He was something of a care, there was no doubt of that. Imogene, whom heliked and who liked him, declared that "that young one had more jump inhim than a sand flea. " The very afternoon of his arrival he frightenedthe hens into shrieking hysterics, poked the fat and somnolent PatrickHenry, the pig, with a sharp stick to see if he was alive and not "gonedead" like the kitten, and barked his shins and nose by falling out ofthe wheelbarrow in the barn. Kenelm, who still retained his position atthe High Cliff House and was meek and lowly under the double dominationof his fiancee and his sister, was inclined to grumble. "A feller can'tset down to rest a minute, " declared Kenelm, "without that young one'sjumpin' out at him from behind somethin' or 'nother and hollerin', 'Boo!' Seems to like to scare me into a fit. Picks on me wuss thanHannah, he does. "

But even Kenelm confessed to a liking for the "pesky little nuisance. "Captain Obed idolized him and took him on excursions along the beachor to his own fish-houses, where Georgie sat on a heap of nets and camehome smelling strongly of cod, but filled to the brim with sea yarns. And Thankful found in the boy the one comfort and solace for herincreasing troubles and cares. Altogether the commodore was in a fairway to become a thoroughly spoiled officer. 

With November came the rains again, and, compared with them, those ofearly September seemed but showers. Day after day and night after nightthe wind blew and the water splashed against the windows and poured fromthe overflowing gutters. Patrick Henry, the pig, found his quartersin the new pen, in the hollow behind the barn, the center of the floodzone, and being discovered one morning marooned on a swampy islet in themiddle of a muddy lake, was transferred to the old sty, that built bythe late Mr. Laban Eldredge, beneath the woodshed and adjoining thepotato cellar. Thankful's orderly, neat soul rebelled against havinga pig under the house, but, as she expressed it, "'twas either that orhavin' the critter two foot under water. "

Captain Obed, like every citizen of East Wellmouth, was disgusted withthe weather. "I was cal'latin' to put in my spare time down to theshanty buildin' a new dory, " he said, "but I guess now I'll build an arkinstead. If this downpour keeps on I'll need one bad as Noah ever did. "

Heman Daniels, Miss Timpson and Caleb Hammond were now the only boardersand roomers Mrs. Barnes had left to provide for. There was little or noprofit in providing for them, for the rates paid by the two last namedwere not high, and their demands were at times almost unreasonable. MissTimpson had a new idea now, that of giving up the room she had occupiedsince coming to the Barnes boarding-house and moving her belongings intothe suite at the rear of the second floor, that comprising the largeroom and the little back bedroom adjoining, the latter the scene ofThankful's spooky adventure on the first night of her arrival in EastWellmouth. These rooms ordinarily rented for much more than Miss Timpsonhad paid for her former apartment, but she had no thought of paying morefor them. "Of course I shouldn't expect to get 'em for the same if 'twassummer, " she explained to Thankful, "but just now, with 'em standin'empty, I might as well move there as not. I know you'll be glad to haveme, won't you, Mrs. Barnes, you and me being such good friends by thistime. "

And Thankful, although conscious of an injustice somewhere, did not liketo refuse her "good friend. " So she consented and Miss Timpson movedinto the back rooms. But she no sooner had her trunks carried therethan she was struck by another brilliant idea. Thankful, hearing unusualsounds from above that Saturday morning, ascended the back stairs tofind the school mistress tugging at the bureau, which she was apparentlytrying to drag from the small room into the larger. 

"It came to me all of a sudden, " panted Miss Timpson, who was out ofbreath but enthusiastic. "That little room's awful small and stuffyto sleep in, and I do hate to sleep in a stuffy room. But when I wasstanding there sniffing and looking it came to me. "

"What came to you?" demanded the puzzled Thankful. "What are you talkin'about--the bureau?"

"No, no! The idea! The bureau couldn't come to me by itself, couldit? No, the idea came to me. That little room isn't good for much as abedroom, but it will make the loveliest study. I can put my table andmy books in there and move the bed and things in here. Then I'll have abeautiful, nice big bedroom and the cutest little study. And I've alwayswanted a study. Now if you and Imogene help me with the bureau and bedit'll be all fixed. "

So Imogene, assisted by Kenelm, who was drafted in Thankful's place, spent a good part of the afternoon shifting furniture and arrangingthe bedroom and the "study. " Miss Timpson superintended, and as she wasseldom satisfied until each separate item of the suite's equipment hadbeen changed about at least twice, in order to get the "effect, " allthree were nervous and tired when the shifting was over. Miss Timpsonshould have been happy over the attainment of the study, but instead sheappeared gloomy and downcast. 

"I declare, " she said, as she and Thankful sat together in theliving-room that evening, "I don't know's I've done right, after all. Idon't know's I wish I had stayed right where I was. "

"Mercy on us! Why?" demanded Thankful, a trifle impatiently. 

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe 'cause I'm kind of tired and nervous tonight. I feel as if--as if something was going to happen to me. I wonder if Icould have another cup of tea before I went to bed; it might settle mynerves, you know. "

Considering that the lady had drunk three cups of tea at supper Mrs. Barnes could not help feeling doubtful concerning the soothing effect ofa fourth. But she prepared it and brought it into the living-room. MissTimpson sipped the tea and groaned. 

"Do you ever have presentiments, Mrs. Barnes?" she asked. 

"Have what?"

"Presentiments? Warnings, you know? I've had several in my life and theyhave always come to something. I feel as if I was going to have onenow. Heavens! Hear that wind and rain! Don't they sound like somebodycalling--calling?"

"No, they don't. They sound cold and wet, that's all. Dear me, I neversaw such a spell of weather. I thought this mornin' 'twas goin' toclear, but now it's come on again, hard as ever. "

"Well, " with dismal resignation, "we'll all go when our time comes, Isuppose. We're here today and gone tomorrow. I don't suppose there's anyuse setting and worrying. Be prepared, that's the main thing. Have youbought a cemetery lot, Mrs. Barnes? You ought to; everybody had. Wecan't tell when we're liable to need a grave. "

"Goodness gracious sakes! Don't talk about cemetery lots and graves. You give me the blue creeps. Go to bed and rest up. You're tired, and nowonder; you've moved no less'n three times since mornin', and theysay one movin's as bad as a fire. Here! Give me that tea-cup. There'snothin' left in it but grounds, and you don't want to drink THEM. "

Miss Timpson relinquished the cup, took her lamp and climbed the stairs. Her good night was as mournful as a funeral march. Thankful, left alone, tried to read for a time, but the wailing wind and squeaking shuttersmade her nervous and depressed, so, after putting the key under the matof the side door for Heman Daniels, who was out attending a meeting ofthe Masonic Lodge, she, too, retired. 

It was not raining when she awoke, but the morning was gray and cloudy. She came downstairs early, so early--for it was Sunday morning, whenall East Wellmouth lies abed--that she expected to find no one, not evenImogene, astir. But, to her great surprise, Miss Timpson was seated bythe living-room stove. 

"Land sakes!" exclaimed Thankful. "Are you up? What's the matter?"

Miss Timpson, who had started violently when Mrs. Barnes entered, turnedtoward the latter a face as white, so Thankful described it afterward, "as unbleached muslin. " This was not a bad simile, for Miss Timpson'scomplexion was, owing to her excessive tea-drinking, a decided yellow. Just now it was a very pale yellow. 

"Who is it?" she gasped. "Oh, it's you, Mrs. Barnes. It IS you, isn'tit?"

"Me? Of course it's me. Have I changed so much in the night that youdon't know me? What is it, Miss Timpson? Are you sick? Can I get youanything?"

"No, no. I ain't sick--in body, anyway. And nobody can get me anythingthis side of the grave. Mrs. Barnes, I'm going. "

"You're GOIN'? What? You don't mean you're dyin'?"

Considering her lodger's remarks of the previous evening, those relatingto "going when the time came, " it is no wonder Thankful was alarmed. ButMiss Timpson shook her head. 

"No, " she said, "I don't mean that, not yet, though that'll come next;I feel it coming already. No, Mrs. Barnes, I don't mean that. I mean I'mgoing away. I can't live here any longer. "

Thankful collapsed upon a chair. 

"Goin'!" she repeated. "You're goin' to leave here? Why--why you've justfixed up to stay!"

Miss Timpson groaned. "I know, " she wailed; "I thought I had, butI--I've changed my mind. I'm going to leave--now. "

By way of proof she pointed to her traveling-bag, which was beside heron the floor. Mrs. Barnes had not noticed the bag before, but now shesaw that it was, apparently, packed. 

"My trunks ain't ready yet, " went on the schoolmistress. "I tried topack 'em, but--but I couldn't. I couldn't bear to do it alone. Maybe youor Imogene will help me by and by. Oh, my soul! What was that?"

"What? I didn't hear anything. "

"Didn't you? Well, perhaps I didn't, either. It's just my nerves, Iguess! Mrs. Barnes, could you help me pack those trunks pretty soon? I'mgoing away. I must go. If I stay in this house any longer I shall DIE. "

She was trembling and wringing her hands. Thankful tried to comforther and did succeed in quieting her somewhat, but, in spite of herquestionings and pleadings Miss Timpson refused to reveal the cause ofher agitation or of her sudden determination to leave the High CliffHouse. 

"It ain't anything you've done or haven't done, Mrs. Barnes, " she said. "I like it here and I like the board and I like you. But I must go. I'mgoing to my cousin's down in the village first and after that I don'tknow where I'll go. Please don't ask me any more. "

She ate a few mouthfuls of the breakfast which Thankful hastily preparedfor her and then she departed for her cousin's. Thankful begged her tostay until Kenelm came, when he might harness the horse and drive herto her destination, but she would not wait. She would not even remain topack her trunks. 

"I'll come back and pack 'em, " she said. "Or perhaps you and Imogenewill pack 'em for me. Oh, Mrs. Barnes, you've been so kind. I hate toleave you this way, I do, honest. "

"But WHY are you leavin'?" asked Thankful once more. For the first timeMiss Timpson seemed to hesitate. She looked about, as if to make surethat the two were alone; then she leaned forward and whispered in hercompanion's ear. 

"Mrs. Barnes, " she whispered, "I--I didn't mean to tell you. I didn'tmean to tell anybody. 'Twas too personal, too sacred a thing to tell. But I don't know's I shan't tell you after all; seem's as if I must tellsomebody. Mrs. Barnes, I shan't live much longer. I've had a warning. "

Thankful stared at her. 

"Rebecca Timpson!" she exclaimed. "Have you gone crazy? What are youtalkin' about? A warnin'!"

"Yes, a warning. I was warned last night. You--you knew I was a twin, didn't you?"

"A which?"

"A twin. Probably you didn't know it, but I used to have a twin sister, Medora, that died when she was only nineteen. She and I looked alike, and were alike, in most everything. We thought the world of each other, used to be together daytimes and sleep together nights. And she usedto--er--well, she was different from me in one way--she couldn't helpit, poor thing--she used to snore something dreadful. I used to scoldher for it, poor soul. Many's the time I've reproached myself since, but--"

"For mercy sakes, what's your sister's snorin' got to do with--"

"Hush! Mrs. Barnes, " with intense solemnity. "As sure as you and I liveand breathe this minute, my sister Medora came to me last night. "

"CAME to you! Why--you mean you dreamed about her, don't you? There'snothin' strange in that. When you took that fourth cup of tea I said tomyself--"

"HUSH! Oh, hush! DON'T talk so. I didn't dream. Mrs. Barnes, I woke upat two o'clock this morning and--and I heard Medora snoring as plain asI ever heard anything. "

Thankful was strongly tempted to laugh, but the expression on MissTimpson's face was so deadly serious that she refrained. 

"Goodness!" she exclaimed. "Is that all? That's nothin'. A night likelast night, with the rain and the blinds and the wind--"

"Hush! It wasn't the wind. Don't you suppose I know? I thought it wasthe wind or my imagination at first. But I laid there and listened and Ikept hearing it. Finally I got up and lit my lamp; and still I heard it. It was snoring and it didn't come from the room I was in. It came fromthe little back room I'd made into a study. "

Thankful's smile faded. She was conscious of a curious prickling atthe roots of her black hair. The back bedroom! The room in which LabanEldredge died! The room in which she herself had heard--

"I went into that room, " continued Miss Timpson. "I don't know how Iever did it, but I did. I looked everywhere, but there was nobody there, not a sign of anybody. And still that dreadful snoring kept on and on. And then I realized--" with a shudder, "I realized what I hadn't noticedbefore; that room was exactly the size and shape of the one Medora andI used to sleep in. Mrs. Barnes, it was Medora's spirit that had come tome. Do you wonder I can't stay here any longer?"

Thankful fought with her feelings. She put a hand on the back of herneck and rubbed vigorously. "Nonsense!" she declared, bravely. "Youimagined it. Nonsense! Whoever heard of a snorin' ghost?"

But Miss Timpson only shook her head. "Good-by, Thankful, " she said. "Ishan't tell anybody; as I said, I didn't mean to tell you. If--if youhear that anything's happened to me--happened sudden, you know--you'llunderstand. You can tell Imogene and Mr. Daniels and Mr. Hammond thatI--that I've gone visiting to my cousin Sarah's. That'll be true, anyway. Good-by. You MAY see me again in this life, but I doubt it. "

She hurried away along the path. Thankful reentered the house and stoodin the middle of the kitchen floor, thinking. Then she walked steadilyto the foot of the back stairs, ascended them, and walked straightto the apartments so recently occupied by the schoolmistress. MissTimpson's trunks were there and the greater part of her belongings. Mrs. Barnes did not stop to look at these. She crossed the larger room andentered the little back bedroom. 

The clouds were breaking and the light of the November sun shone in. Thelittle room was almost cheerful. There were no sounds except those fromwithout, the neigh of George Washington from his stall, the cackle ofthe hens, the hungry grunts of Patrick Henry, the pig, in his sty besidethe kitchen. 

Thankful looked and listened. Then she made a careful examination of theroom, but found nothing mysterious or out of the ordinary. And yet therewas a mystery there. She had long since decided that her own experiencein that room had been imagination, but now that conviction was shaken. Miss Timpson must have heard something; she HAD heard something whichfrightened her into leaving the boarding-house she professed to like sowell. Ghost or no ghost, Miss Timpson had gone; and one more source ofincome upon which Mrs. Barnes had depended went with her. Slowly, andwith the feeling that not only this world but the next was conspiring tobring about the failure of her enterprise and the ruin of her plans andher hopes, Thankful descended the stairs to the kitchen and set aboutpreparing breakfast. 

CHAPTER XII

Mr. Caleb Hammond rose that Sunday morning with a partially developedattack of indigestion and a thoroughly developed "grouch. "The indigestion was due to an injudicious partaking of lightrefreshment--sandwiches, ice cream and sarsaparilla "tonic"--at theclub the previous evening. Simeon Baker had paid for the refreshment, ordering the supplies sent in from Mr. Chris Badger's store. Simeon hadreceived an unexpected high price for cranberries shipped to New York, and was in consequence "flush" and reckless. He appeared at the club atnine-thirty, after most of its married members had departed for theirhomes and only a few of the younger set and one or two bachelors, likeMr. Hammond, remained, and announced that he was going to "blow thecrowd. " The crowd was quite willing to be blown and said so. 

Mr. Hammond ate three sandwiches and two plates of ice cream, also hesmoked two cigars. He did not really feel the need of the second creamor the second cigar, but, as they were furnished without cost to him, hetook them as a matter of principle. Hence the indigestion. 

The "grouch" was due partially to the unwonted dissipation and itsconsequences and partly to the fact that his winter "flannels" had notbeen returned by Mrs. Melinda Pease, to whom they had been consigned formending and overhauling. 

It was the tenth of November and for a period of twenty-four years, eversince his recovery from a severe attack of rheumatic fever, Caleb hadmade it a point to lay aside his summer underwear on the morning ofNovember tenth and don a heavy suit. Weather, cold or warm, was notsupposed to have any bearing on this change. The ninth might be asfrigid as a Greenland twilight and the tenth as balmy as a Floridanoon--no matter; on the ninth Mr. Hammond wore light underwear andshivered; on the tenth he wore his "flannels" and perspired. It wasanother of his principles, and Caleb had a deserved reputation foradhering to principle and being "sot" in his ways. 

So, when, on this particular tenth of November, this Sabbath morning, he rose, conscious of the sandwiches and "tonic, " and found no suit offlannels ready for him to don, his grouch began to develop. He openedhis chamber door a crack and shouted through the crack. 

"Mrs. Barnes, " he called. "Hi--i, Mrs. Barnes!"

Thankful, still busy in the kitchen, where she had been joined byImogene, sent the latter to find out what was the matter. Imogenereturned, grinning. 

"He wants his flannels, " she announced. "Wants to know where them winterflannels Mrs. Pease sent home yesterday are. Why, ain't they in hisroom, he says. "

Thankful sniffed. Her experience with Miss Timpson, and the worry causedby the latter's leaving, had had their effect upon her patience. 

"Mercy sakes!" she exclaimed. "Is that all? I thought the house wasafire. I don't know where his flannels are. Why should I? Where'dMelindy put 'em when she brought 'em here?"

Imogene chuckled. "I don't think she brought 'em at all, " she replied. "She wa'n't here yesterday. She--why, yes, seems to me Kenelm said heheard she was sick abed with a cold. "

Thankful nodded. "So she is, " she said. "Probably the poor thing ain'thad time to finish mendin' 'em. It's a good deal of a job, I guess. Shetold me once that that Hammond man wore his inside clothes till theywa'n't anything BUT mendin', just hung together with patches, as youmight say. His suits and overcoats are all right enough 'most always, but he can't seem to bear to spend money for anything underneath. Perhaps he figgers that patches are good as anything else, long's theydon't show. Imogene, go tell him Melindy didn't fetch 'em. "

Imogene went and returned with her grin broader than ever. 

"He says she did bring 'em, " she announced. "Says she always brings himhis things on the ninth. He's pretty peppery this mornin', seems to me. Says he don't cal'late to stand there and freeze much longer. "

"Freeze! Why, it's the warmest day we've had for a fortni't. The sun'scome out and it's cleared up fine, like Indian summer. Oh, DO be still!"as another shout for "Mrs. Barnes" came from above. "Here, never mind, Imogene; I'll tell him. "

She went into the front hall and called up the stairs. 

"Your things ain't here, Mr. Hammond, " she said. "Melindy didn't bring'em. She's laid up with a cold and probably couldn't get 'em ready. "

"Course she's got 'em ready! She always has 'em ready. She knows I want'em. "

"Maybe so, but she ain't always sick, 'tain't likely. They ain't here, anyway. You won't need 'em today. "

"Need 'em? Course I need 'em. It's colder than Christmas. "

"No, it isn't. It's almost as warm as September. Put on two suits ofyour others, if you're so cold. And come down to breakfast as soon asyou can. We've all had ours. "

When Mr. Hammond did come down to breakfast his manner was that of amartyr. The breakfast itself, baked beans and fishballs, did not appealto him, and he ate little. He grumbled as he drank his coffee. 

"Healthy note, this is!" he muttered. "Got to set around and freeze todeath just 'cause that lazy critter ain't finished her job. I pay herfor it, don't I?"

Thankful sniffed. "I suppose you do, " she said, adding under her breath, "though how much you pay is another thing. "

"Is this all the breakfast you've got?" queried Caleb. 

"Why, yes; it's what we always have Sunday mornin's. Isn't it what youexpected?"

"Oh, I expected it, all right. Take it away; I don't want no more. Consarn it! I wish sometimes I had a home of my own. "

"Well, why don't you have one? I should think you would. You can affordit. "

Mr. Hammond did not reply. He folded his napkin, seized his hat and coatand went out. When he crossed the threshold he shivered, as a matter ofprinciple. 

He stalked gloomily along the path by the edge of the bluff. CaptainObed Bangs came up the path and they met. 

"Hello, Caleb!" hailed the captain. "Fine weather at last, eh? Almostlike August. Injun summer at last, I cal'late. What you got your coatcollar turned up for? Afraid of getting your neck sunburned?"

Mr. Hammond grunted and hurried on. Captain Obed had chosen a poor topicif he desired a lengthy conversation. 

Mrs. Pease lived at the farther end of the village and when Calebreached there he was met by the lady's niece, Emma Snow. 

"Aunt Melindy's real poorly, " said Emma. "She's been so for 'most threedays. I'm stayin' here with her till she gets better. No, she ain't hadtime to do your mendin' yet. Anyhow it's so nice and warm you don't needthe things, that's a comfort. "

It may have been a comfort to her, but it was not to Caleb. He growleda reply and turned on his heel. The churchgoers along the main roadreceived scanty acknowledgment of their greetings. 

"Ain't you comin' to meetin'?" asked Abbie Larkin. 

"Naw, " snarled Caleb, "I ain't. "

"Why not? And it's such a lovely day, too. "

"Ugh!"

"Why ain't you comin' to meetin', Mr. Hammond?"

"'Cause I don't feel like it, that's why. "

"I want to know! Well, you DON'T seem to be in a pious frame of mind, that's a fact. Better come; you may not feel like church, but I shouldsay you needed it, if ever anybody did. "

Caleb did not deign a reply. He stalked across the road and took thepath to the shore. 

As he came opposite the Parker cottage he saw Hannah Parker at thewindow. He nodded and his nod was returned. Hannah's experience was asgloomy as his own. She did not look happy and somehow the idea that shewas not happy pleased him; Abbie Larkin had been altogether too happy;it grated on him. He was miserable and he wanted company of his ownkind. He stopped, hesitated, and then turned in at the Parker gate. 

Hannah opened the door. 

"Good mornin', Caleb, " she said. "Come in, won't you? It looks sort ofchilly outdoor. "

This WAS a kindred spirit. Mr. Hammond entered the Parker sitting-room. Hannah motioned toward a chair and he sat down. 

"Mornin', Hannah, " said Caleb. "'Tis chilly. It'll be a mercy if wedon't catch our deaths, dressed the way some of us be. How's things withyou?"

Miss Parker shook her head. "Oh, I don't know, Caleb, " she answered. "They ain't all they might be, I'm afraid. "

"What's the matter? Ain't you feelin' up to the mark?"

"Oh, yes--yes; I'm feeling well enough in body. I ain't sick, if that'swhat you mean. I'm kind of blue and--and lonesome, that's all. I try tobear up under my burdens, but I get compressed in spirit sometimes, Ican't help it. Ah, hum a day!"

She sighed and Mr. Hammond sighed also. 

"You ain't the only one, " he said. "I'm bluer'n a whetstone myself, thismornin'. "

"What's the trouble?"

"Trouble? Trouble enough! Somethin' happened this mornin' that riled meall up. It--" he paused, remembering that the cause of the "rilin'" wassomewhat personal, not to say delicate. "Well--well, never mind what itwas, " he added. "'Twas mighty aggravatin', that's all I've got to say. "

Hannah sighed again. "Ah, hum!" she observed. "There's aggravationsenough in this life. And they generally come on account of somebodyelse, too. There's times when I wish I didn't have any flesh and blood. "

"Hey? Good land! No flesh and blood! What do you want--bones?"

"Oh, I don't mean that. I wish I didn't have any--any relations of myown flesh and blood. "

"Humph! I don't know's you'd be any better off. I ain't got nobody andI ain't what you might call cheerful. I know what's the matter with you, though. That Kenelm's been frettin' you again, I suppose. "

He had guessed it. Kenelm that morning had suddenly announced that hewas to have a day off. He was cal'latin' to borrow Mrs. Barnes' horseand buggy and go for a ride. His sister promptly declared that would belovely; she was just wishing for a ride. Whereupon Kenelm had hemmed andhawed and, at last, admitted that his company for the drive was alreadyprovided. 

"Oh!" sneered Hannah. "I see. You're goin' to take that precious inmateof yours along. And I've got to set here alone at home. Well, I shouldthink you'd be ASHAMED. "

"What for? Ain't nothin' in takin' a lady you're keepin' company without drivin', is there? I don't see no shame in that. "

"No, I presume likely YOU don't. You're way past shame, both of you. Andwhen I think of all I've done for you. Slaved and cooked your meals--"

"Well, you're cookin' 'em yet, ain't you? I ain't asked you to stop. "

"I will stop, though. I will. "

"All right, then; heave ahead and stop. I cal'late my wife'll be willin'to cook for me, if it's needful. "

"Your wife! She ain't your wife yet. And she shan't be. This ridiculousengaged business of yours is--is--"

"Well, if you don't like the engagin', why don't you stop it?"

"Why don't YOU stop it, you mean. You would if you had the feelin's of aman. "

"Humph! And let some everlastin' lawyer sue me out of my last cent fordamages. All right, I'll stop it if you say so. There's plenty of roomin the poorhouse, they tell me. How'd you like to give us this place andmove to the poorhouse, Hannah?"

"But--but, O Kenelm, I can't think of your gettin' married! I can'tthink of it!"

"Don't think of it. I ain't thinkin' of it no more'n I can help. Whyain't you satisfied with things as they be? Everything's goin' on allright enough now, ain't it? You and me are livin' together same as wehave for ever so long. You're here and I--well, I--"

He did not finish the sentence, but his sister read his thought. Sheknew perfectly well that her brother was finding a measure of enjoymentin the situation, so far as his dealings with her were concerned. He wasmore independent than he had been since she took him in charge. But sherealized, too, her own impotence. She could not drive him too hard orhe might be driven into marrying Imogene. And THAT Hannah was determinedshould be deferred as long as possible. 

So she said no more concerning the "ride" and merely showed her feelingsby moping in the corner and wiping her eyes with her handkerchiefwhenever he looked in her direction. After he had gone she spent thehalf-hour previous to Mr. Hammond's arrival in alternate fits of rageand despair. 

"So Kenelm's been actin' unlikely, has he?" queried Caleb. "Well, ifhe was my brother he'd soon come to time quick, or be put to bed in ahospital. That's what would happen to HIM. "

Miss Parker looked as if the hospital picture was more appealing thandreadful. 

"I wish he was your brother, " she said. "Or I wish I was independent andhad a house of my own. "

"Huh! Gosh! So do I wish I had one. I've been wishin' it all themornin'. If I had a home of my own I'd have what I wanted to eat--yes, and wear. And I'd have 'em when I wanted 'em, too. "

"Don't they give you good things to eat over at Mrs. Barnes'?"

"Oh, they're good enough maybe, if they're what you want. But boardin'sboardin'; 'tain't like your own home. "

"Caleb, it's a wonder to me you don't rent a little house and live init. You've got money enough; least so everybody says. "

"Humph! What everybody says is 'most generally lies. What would be thesense of my hirin' a house? I'd have to have a housekeeper and a goodone costs like thunder. A feller's wife has to get along on what hegives her, but a housekeeper--"

He stopped short, seemingly struck by a new and amazing idea. MissParker rambled on about the old days when "dear papa" was alive;how happy she was then, and so on, with occasional recourse to thehandkerchief. Suddenly Caleb slapped his knee. 

"It's all right, " he said. "It's fine--and it's commonsense, too. Hannah, what's the matter with you and me gettin' married?"

Hannah stared at him. 

"Married!" she repeated. "Me get married! Who to, for the land sakes?Are you out of your head?"

"Not a mite. What's the matter with you marryin' me?"

"My soul! Is this a funny-paper joke, or are you--"

"'Tain't a joke; I mean it. Is there any reason why we shouldn't marryand settle down together, you and me? I don't see none. You could keephouse for me then, and 'twouldn't cost--that is, you could look out forme, and I--well, I suppose likely I could look out for you, too. Whynot?"

"Why, how you talk, Caleb Hammond!"

"No, I don't talk neither. I mean it. You was wishin' for a home of yourown; so was I. Let's have one together. "

"Well, I swan! Get married at our--at our age! I never did hear suchtalk! We'd be a nice young bride and groom, wouldn't we? I guess EastWellmouth folks would have somethin' to laugh at then. "

"Let 'em laugh. Laughin' don't cost nothin', and, if it does, we won'thave to pay for it. See here, Hannah, this ain't any foolish front-gatecourtin', this ain't. It's just common-sense business. Let's do it. Iwill if you will. "

Miss Parker shook her head. The prospect of being Mrs. Caleb Hammondwas not too alluring. Caleb's reputation as a husband was not, whilehis wife lived, that of a "liberal provider. " And yet this was Hannah'sfirst proposal, and it had come years after she had given up hoping forone. So she prolonged the delicious moment as long as possible. 

"I suppose you're thinkin' about that brother of yours, " suggested Mr. Hammond. "Well, he'll be all right. 'Cordin' to what I've heard, andseen myself, he's hangin' around that hired help girl at the High Cliffpretty reg'lar these days. Maybe he'll marry her and you'll be leftwithout anybody. If he don't marry her he can come to live along ofus--maybe. If he does he'll mind his p's and q's, I tell you that. He'llfind out who's boss. "

This speech had an effect. For the first time Hannah's determinationwavered. Kenelm was, although Caleb did not know it, actually engaged tomarry Imogene. His sister was even then writhing under the humiliation. And here was an opportunity to get even, not only with Kenelm, but withthe "inmate. " If she, Hannah, were to marry and leave the pair insteadof being herself left! Oh, the glory of it--the triumphant glory of it!How she could crush her brother! How she could gloat over and sneerat Imogene! The things she might say--she, the wife of a rich man! Oh, wonderful!

"Well, come on, Hannah, come on, " urged the impatient Caleb. "What doyou say?"

But Miss Parker still shook her head. "It ain't any use, Caleb, " shedeclared. "Even if--if I wanted to, how could I tell Kenelm? He'd raisean awful fuss. He'd tell everybody and they--"

"No, he wouldn't. I'd break his neck if he did. . . . And--eh--" asanother idea came to him, "he needn't know till 'twas all over. Wecould get married right off now, and not tell a soul--Kenelm or anybodyelse--till it was done. Then they could talk or shut up, we wouldn'tcare. They couldn't change nothin'. "

"Caleb Hammond, do you suppose I'd have the face to go to a ministerin this town and have you tell him we'd come to get married? I'd be soashamed--"

"Hold on! We don't have to go to a minister in this town. There's othertowns with parsons in them, ain't they? We could drive over somewhereselse. "

"Everybody'd see us drivin' together. "

"What of it? They see us drivin' to the Cattle Show together, didn'tthey?"

"Yes, and they've talked about it ever since, some of 'em. That AbbieLarkin said--Oh, I can't tell you what she said. No, I shan't do it. I shouldn't have the face. And everybody'd ask where we was bound, and I'd--I'd be so--so mortified and--and--why, I'd act like areg'lar--er--er--domicile that had run away from the Idiots' Home. No, no, no! I couldn't. "

Mr. Hammond thought it over. Then he said:

"See here, Hannah, I cal'late we can fix that. We'll start in the night, after all hands have gone to bed. I'll sneak out about quarter to twelveand borrow Thankful's horse and buggy out of her barn. I know where shekeeps the key. I'll be ready here at twelve prompt--or not here, maybe, but down in the hollow back of your henhouse. You must be there andwe'll drive over to Trumet--"

"Trumet! Why, Caleb Hammond, I know everybody in Trumet well's I dohere. And gettin' to Trumet at three o'clock in the mornin' would be--"

"Then we won't go to Trumet. We'll go to Bayport. It's quite a trip, butthat's all the better 'cause we won't make Bayport till daylight. Thenwe'll hunt up a parson to marry us and come back here and tell folkswhen we get good and ready. Thankful'll miss the horse and team, I cal'late, but I'll fix that; I'll leave a note sayin' I took thecritter, bein' called away on business. "

"Yes, but what will I tell Kenelm?"

"Don't tell him anything, the foolhead. Why, yes, you can leave a notesayin' you've gone up to the village, to the store or somethin', andthat he must get his own breakfast 'cause you won't be back till afterhe's gone to work over to Thankful's. That'll fix it. By crimus! That'llfix it fine. Look here, Hannah Parker; I've set out to do this and, bycrimus, I'm goin' to do it. Come on now; let's. "

Caleb was, as has been said, "sot" in his ways. He was "sot" now, andalthough Hannah continued to protest and declare she could not do sucha thing, she yielded at last. Mr. Hammond left the Parker cottage ina triumphant mood. He had won his point and that had pleased him for atime; then, as he began to ponder upon that point and its consequenceshis triumph changed to misgiving and doubt. He had had no idea, untilthat forenoon, of marrying again. His proposal had been made on impulse, on the spur of the moment. He was not sure that he wished to marryHannah Parker. But he had pleaded and persuaded her into accepting himthat very night. Even if he wished to back out, how could he--now? Hewas conscious of an uneasy feeling that, perhaps, he had made a fool ofhimself. 

He went to his room early in the evening and stayed there, looking athis watch and waiting for the rest of the family to retire. He heardGeorgie's voice in the room at the end of the hall, where Mrs. Barneswas tucking the youngster in for the night. Later he heard Imogene comeup the backstairs and, after her, Thankful herself. But it was nearlyeleven before Heman Daniels' important and dignified step sounded on thefront stairs and by that time the Hammond nerves were as taut as banjostrings. 

It was nearly twelve before he dared creep downstairs and out of theback door, the key of which he left in the lock. Luckily the barn wasa good distance from the house and Mrs. Barnes and Imogene were soundsleepers. But even with those advantages he did not dare attemptgetting the buggy out of the barn, and decided to use the old discardedcarryall, relic of "Cap'n Abner, " which now stood under the open shed atthe rear. 

George Washington looked at him in sleepy wonder as he tiptoed intothe barn and lit the lantern. To be led out of his stall at "midnight'ssolemn hour" and harnessed was more than George's equine reasoning couldfathom. The harnessing was a weird and wonderful operation. Caleb'strembling fingers were all thumbs. After a while, however, theharnessing was accomplished somehow and in some way, although whetherthe breeching was where the bridle should have been or vice versa wasmore than the harnesser would have dared swear. After several centuries, as the prospective bridegroom was reckoning time, the horse was betweenthe shafts of the carriage and driven very carefully along the road tothe Parker homestead. 

He hitched the sleepy animal to a pine tree just off the road andtiptoed toward the hollow, the appointed rendezvous. To reach thishollow he was obliged to pass through the Parker yard and, although hewent on tiptoe, each footstep sounded, in his ears, like the crack ofdoom. He tried to think of some explanation to be made to Kenelm in casethe latter should hear and hail him, but he could think of nothingmore plausible than that he was taking a walk, and this was far fromsatisfactory. 

And then he was hailed. From a window above, at the extreme end of thekitchen, came a trembling whisper. 

"Caleb! Caleb Hammond, is that you?"

Mr. Hammond's heart, which had been thumping anything but a weddingmarch beneath the summer under-flannels, leaped up and stuck in histhroat; but he choked it down and gasped a faint affirmative. 

"Oh, my soul and body! Where HAVE you been? I've been waitin' andwaitin'. "

"What in time did you wait up there for? Why don't you come down?"

"I can't. Kenelm's locked the doors, and the keys are right next to hisroom door. I can't get down. "

Here was an unexpected obstacle. Caleb was nonplused. 

"Go home!" wailed the voice from above. "Don't stand there. Go HOME!Can't you SEE it ain't any use? Go HOME!"

Five minutes before he received this order Mr. Hammond would have beenonly too glad to go home. Now he was startled and angry and, beingangry, his habitual stubbornness developed. 

"I shan't go home neither, " he whispered, fiercely. "If you can't comedown I'll--I'll come up and get you. "

"Shh--shh! He'll hear you. Kenelm'll hear you. "

"I don't care much if he does. See here, Hannah, can't you get downnohow? How about that window? Can't you climb out of that window? Say, didn't I see a ladder layin' alongside the woodshed this mornin'?"

"Yes, there's a ladder there, but--where are you goin'? Mr. Hammond--Caleb--"

But Caleb was on his way to the woodshed. He found the ladder andlaboriously dragged it beneath the window. Kenelm Parker had a localreputation for sleeping like the dead. Otherwise Mr. Hammond would neverhave dared risk the noise he was making. 

Even after the ladder had been placed in position, Miss Parkerhesitated. At first she flatly refused to descend, asserting that nomortal power could get her down that thing alive. But Caleb begged andcommanded in agonized whispers, and finally she was prevailed upon totry. Mr. Hammond grasped the lower end of the ladder with a grip thatbrought the perspiration out upon his forehead, and the lady, withsuppressed screams and ejaculations of "Oh, good Lord!" and "Heavens andearth! What shall I do?" reached the ground safe and more or less sound. They left the ladder where it was, and tiptoed fearfully out to thelane. 

"Whew!" panted the exhausted swain, mopping his brow. "I'm cleantuckered out. I ain't done so much work for ten years. "

"Don't say a word, Caleb Hammond. If I ain't got my death of--of ammoniaor somethin', I miss my guess. I'm all wheezed up from settin' at thatopen winder waitin' for you to come; and I thought you never WOULDcome. "

As Caleb was helping the lady of his choice into the carryall he noticedthat she carried a small hand-bag. 

"What you got that thing for?" he demanded. 

"It's my reticule; there's a clean handkerchief and a few other thingsin it. Mercy on us! You didn't suppose I'd go off to get married withouteven a decent handkerchief, did you? I feel enough like a sneakin'ragamuffin and housebreaker as 'tis. Why I ever was crazy enoughto--where have you put the horse?"

Mr. Hammond led her to where George Washington was tethered. The fatherof his country was tired of standing alone in the damp, and he trottedoff briskly. The first mile of their journey was accomplished safely, although the night was pitch-dark, and when they turned into the BayportRoad, which for two-thirds of its length leads through thick soft pineand scrub-oak woods, it was hard to distinguish even the horse's ears. Miss Parker insisted that every curtain of the carryall--at the back andboth sides--should be closely buttoned down, as she was fearful of theeffects of the night air. 

"Fresh air never hurts nobody, " said Caleb. "There ain't nothin' so goodfor a body as fresh air. I sleep with my window open wide winter andsummer. "

"You DO? Well, I tell you right now, I don't. I should say not! I shutevery winder tight and I make Kenelm do the same thing. I don't run anyrisks from drafts. "

Mr. Hammond grunted, and was silent for some little time, onlybrightening up when the lady, now in a measure recovered from her frightand the anxiety of waiting, began to talk of the blessings that were tocome from their independent wedded life in a home of their own. 

"We'll keep chickens, " she said, "because I do like fresh eggs forbreakfast. Let's see; this is the way 'twill be; you'll get up aboutfive o'clock and kindle the fire, and--"

"Hey?"

"I say you'll get up at five o'clock and kindle the fire. "

"ME get up and kindle it?"

"Sartin; you don't expect I'm goin' to, do you?"

"No-o, I suppose not. It come kind of sudden, that's all. You see, I'vebeen used to turnin' out about seven. Seldom get up afore that. "

"Seven! My soul! I always have my breakfast et by seven. Well, as I say, you get up at five and kindle the fire, and then you'll go out to thehenyard and get what eggs there is. Then--"

"Then I'll come in and call you, and you'll come down and get breakfast. What breakfasts we will have! Eggs for you, if you want 'em, and ham andfried potatoes for me, and pie--"

"Pie? For breakfast?"

"Sartin. Laviny Marthy, my first wife, always had a piece of pie warmedfor me, and I've missed it since. I don't really care two cents forbreakfast without pie. "

"Well now, Caleb, if you think I'm goin' to get up and warm up pie everymornin', let alone fryin' potatoes, and--"

"See here, Hannah! Seems to me if I'm willin' to turn out at thatungodly hour and then go scratchin' around the henhouse to please you, you might be willin' to have a piece of pie het up for me. "

"Well, maybe you're right. But I must say--well, I'll try and do it. It'll seem kind of hard, though, after the simple breakfasts Kenelm andI have when we're alone. But--what are you stoppin' for?"

"There seems to be a kind of crossroads here, " said Caleb, bendingforward and peering out of the carryall. "It's so everlastin' dark afeller can't see nothin'. Yes, there is crossroads, three of 'em. Now, which one do we take? I ain't drove to Bayport direct for years. When wewent to the Cattle Show we went up through the Centre. Do you know whichis the right road, Hannah?"

Hannah peered forth from the blackness of the back seat. "Now, let methink, " she said. "Last time I went to Bayport by this road was fouryear ago come next February. Sarah Snow's daughter Becky was married toa feller named Higgins--Solon Higgins' son 'twas. No, 'twa'n't his son, because--"

"Aw, crimus! Who cares if 'twas his aunt's gran'mother? What I want toknow is which road to take. "

"Well, seems to me, nigh as I can recollect, that we took the left-handroad. No, I ain't sure but 'twas the right-hand. There's a bare chancethat it might have been the middle one, 'cause there was trees alongboth sides. I know we was goin' to Becky Snow's weddin'--"

"Trees 'long it! There ain't nothin' BUT trees for two square milesaround these diggin's. Git dap, you! I'll take the right-hand road. Ithink that's the way. "

"Well, so do I; but, as I say, I ain't sure. You needn't be so cross andunlikely, whether 'tis or 'tain't. "

If the main road had been dark, the branch road was darker, and thebranches of the trees slapped and scratched the sides of the carryall. Caleb's whole attention was given to his driving, and he said nothing. Miss Parker at length broke the dismal silence. 

"Caleb, " she said, "what time had we ought to get to Bayport?"

"About four o'clock, I should think. We'll drive 'round till about seveno'clock, and then we'll go and get married. I used to know the Methodistminister there, and--"

"METHODIST minister! You ain't goin' to a Methodist minister to bemarried?"

"I sartin shouldn't go to no one else. I've been goin' to the Methodistchurch for over thirty year. You know that well's I do. "

"I snum I never thought of it, or you wouldn't have got me this farwithout settlin' that question. I was confirmed into the Baptist faithwhen I was twelve year old. And you must have known that just as well asI knew you was a Methodist. "

"Well, if you knew I was one you ought to know I'd want a Methodist tomarry me. 'Twas a Methodist married me afore. "

"Humph! What do you suppose I care who married you before? I'm the onethat's goin' with you to be married now; and if I was married by anybodybut a Baptist minister I wouldn't feel as if I was married at all. "

"Well, I shan't be married by no Baptist. "

"No Methodist shall marry ME. "

"Now, look here, Hannah--"

"I don't care, Caleb. You ain't done nothin' but contradict me since westarted. I've been settin' up all night, and I'm tired out, and there'sa draft comin' in 'round these plaguy curtains right on the back ofmy neck. I'll get cold and die and you'll have a funeral on your handsinstead of a weddin'. And I don't know's I'd care much, " desperately. 

Caleb choked down his own irritation. 

"There, there, Hannah, " he said, "don't talk about dyin' when you'rejust gettin' ready to live. We won't fret about the minister business. If worst comes to worst I'll give in to a Baptist, I suppose. One reasonI did figger on goin' to a Methodist was that, I bein' of that faith, Ithought maybe he'd do the job a little cheaper for us. "

"Cheaper? What do you mean? Was you cal'latin' to make a BARGAIN withhim?"

"No, no, course not. But there ain't any sense in heavin' money away ona parson more'n on anybody else. "

"Caleb Hammond, how much do you intend givin' that minister?"

Mr. Hammond stirred uneasily on the seat of the carryall. 

"Oh, I don't know, " he answered evasively. 

"Yes, you do know, too. How much?"

"I don't know. Two or three dollars, maybe. "

"TWO or three dollars! My soul and body! Is two dollars all you'rewillin' to give up to get MARRIED? Is THAT all the ceremony's worth toyou? Two dollars! My soul!"

"Oh, let up! I don't care. I'll--I'll--" after a desperate wrestle withhis sense of economy. "I'll give him whatever you say--in reason. Eh!. . . What's that foolhead horse stoppin' for now? What in the tunket'sthe matter with him?"

The matter was simply that in his hasty harnessing Mr. Hammond had butpartially buckled one of the girths, and the horse was now half-way outof the shafts, with the larger part of the harness well up towards hisears. Caleb groaningly climbed down from the seat, rummaged out and litthe lantern, which he had been thoughtful enough to put under the seatbefore starting, and proceeded to repair damages. This took a long time, and in getting back to the carryall he tore a triangular rent in theback of his Sunday coat. He had donned his best clothes to be marriedin, and, to add to his troubles, had left his watch in the fob-pocket ofhis everyday trousers, so they had no means of knowing the time. 

"That's a nice mess, " he grumbled, taking off his coat to examine thetear by the light of the lantern. "Nice-lookin' rag-bag I'll be to getmarried. "

"Maybe I can mend it when we get to Bayport, " said Miss Parker. 

"What'll you mend it with--pins?"

"No, there's a needle and thread in my reticule. Wait till we get toBayport and then--"

"Can't mend it in broad daylight ridin up and down the main street, canyou? And I'd look pretty shuckin' my coat in the minister's parlor foryou to patch up the holes in it. Couldn't you mend it now?"

Hannah announced her willingness to try, and the reticule beingproduced, the needle was threaded after numerous trials, and the mendingbegan. Caleb, holding the lantern, watched the operation anxiously, hisface falling at every stitch. 

"I'm afraid I haven't made a good job of it, " sighed Hannah, gazingsorrowfully at the puckered and wrinkled star in the back of thegarment. "If you'd only held that lantern steady, instead of jigglin' itround and round so, I might have done better. "

Mr. Hammond said nothing, but struggled into his coat, and picked up thereins. He sighed, heavily, and his sigh was echoed from the back seat ofthe carryall. 

The road was now very rough, and the ruts were deep and full of holes. George Washington seemed to be stumbling through tall grass and bushes, and the carryall jolted and rocked from side to side. Miss Parker grewmore and more nervous. After a particularly severe jolt she could nothold in any longer. 

"Land of love, Caleb!" she gasped. "Where ARE you goin'! It doesn't seemas if this could be the right road!"

"I don't know whether 'tis or not; but it's too narrow and too dark toturn 'round, so we've got to go ahead, that's all. "

"Oh, heavens! What a jounce that was! Seems to me you're awful reckless. I wish Kenelm was drivin'; he's always so careful. "

This was too much. Mr. Hammond suppressed his feelings no longer. 

"I wish to thunder he was!" he roared. "I wish Kenelm or some other dam'fool was here instead of me. "

"Caleb HAMMOND!"

"I don't care, Hannah. You're enough to drive a deacon to swearin'. It's been nothin' but nag, nag, nag, fight, fight, fight ever since thiscruise started. If--if we row like this afore we're married what'llit be afterwards? Talk about bein' independent! Git dap there!" this asavage roar at George Washington, who had stopped again. "I do believethe idiot's struck with a palsy. "

Hannah leaned forward and touched her fellow-sufferer on the arm. "Sshh, shh, Caleb!" she said. "Don't holler so. I don't blame you for hollerin'and--and I declare I don't know as I much blame you for swearin', thoughI never thought I'D live to say a thing like that. But it ain't thehorse deserves to be sworn at. He ain't the idiot; the idiots are youand me. We was both of us out of sorts this mornin', I guess--I know Iwas--and then you come along and we talked and--and, well, we both wentinto this foolish, ridiculous, awful piece of silliness without stoppin'to figger out whether we really wanted to, or whether we was liable toget along together, or anything else. Caleb, I've been wantin' to saythis for the last hour or more--now I'm goin' to say it: You turn thathorse's head around and start right home again. "

Mr. Hammond shook his head. 

"No, " he said. 

"I say yes. I don't want to marry you and I don't believe you want tomarry me. Now do you--honest?"

Caleb was silent for a full minute. Then he drew a deep breath. 

"It don't make no difference whether I do or not, fur's I can see, " hesaid, gloomily. "It's too late to start home now. I don't know what time'tis, but we must have been ridin' three or four hours--seems eight orten year to me--and we ought to be pretty near to Bayport. If weshould turn back now we wouldn't get home till long after daylight, andeverybody would be up and wantin' to know the whys and wherefores. If wetold 'em we'd been ridin' around together all night, and didn't give anyreasons for it, there'd be talk enough to last till Judgment. No, we'vejust got to get married now. That's all there is to it. "

Hannah groaned as the truth of this statement dawned upon her. Calebgathered the reins in his hands preparatory to driving on, when a newthought came to him. 

"Say, Hannah, " he observed, "I suppose you left that note for Kenelm, didn't you?"

Miss Parker uttered a faint shriek. 

"Oh, my soul!" she cried. "I didn't! I didn't! I wrote it, but I was soupset when I found I couldn't get the doorkey and get out that way thatI left the note in my bureau drawer. "

"Tut, tut! Huh! Well, he may find it there; let's hope he does. "

"But he won't! He WON'T! He never finds anything, even if it's in plainsight. He won't know what's become of me--"

"And he'll most likely have the whole town out lookin' for you. I guessnow you see there's nothin' to do but for us to get married--don't you?"

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" wailed Miss Parker, and burst into tears. 

Caleb groaned. "Git dap!" he shouted to the horse. "No use cryin', Hannah. Might's well grin and bear it. The joyful bridal party'll nowproceed. "

But the horse refused to proceed, and his driver, peering forward, dimlysaw a black barrier in front of him. He lit the lantern once more and, getting out of the carryall, discovered that the road apparently endedat a rail fence that barred further progress. 

"Queer, " he said. "We must be pretty nigh civilization. Got to Bayport, most likely, Hannah; there seems to be a buildin' ahead of us there. I'mgoin' to take the lantern and explore. You set still till I come back. "

But this Miss Parker refused to do. She declared that she would not waitalone in those woods for anybody or anything. If her companion was goingto explore so was she. So Mr. Hammond assisted her to alight, and afterhe had taken down the bars, the pair went on through a grove to where alarge building loomed against the sky. 

"A church, " said Caleb. "One of the Bayport churches, I cal'late. Wonderwhich 'tis?"

"There's always a sign on the front of a church, " said Hannah. "Let's goaround front and see. "

There were no trees in front of the church, and when they came out bythe front platform, Miss Parker exclaimed, "Well, I never! I wouldn'tbelieve I'd remember so clear. This church seems just as familiar as ifI was here yesterday. Why, what's the matter?"

Mr. Hammond was standing on the platform, holding his lantern up beforea gilt-lettered placard by the church door. 

"Hannah, " he gurgled, "this night's been too much for me. My foolishnesshas struck out of my brains into my eyes. I can't read straight. Lookhere. "

Hannah clambered up beside her agitated companion, and read from theplacard these words:

 FIRST BAPTIST CHURCH

 REV. JONATHAN LANGWORTHY, PASTOR

"Good land!" she exclaimed. "Mr. Langworthy! Why, Mr. Langworthy is theminister at Wellmouth Centre, ain't he? I thought he was. "

"He is, but perhaps there's another one. "

"No, there ain't--not another Baptist. And--and this church, what littleI can see of it, LOOKS like the Wellmouth Centre Baptist Church, too; Ideclare it does! . . . Where are you goin'?"

Caleb did not reply, neither did he turn back. Hannah, who did notpropose to be left alone there in the dark, was hurrying after him, but he stopped and when she reached his side she found him holding thelantern and peering at an iron gate in a white fence. His face, seen bythe lantern light, was a picture of bewildered amazement. 

"What is it?" she demanded. "What IS it?"

He did not answer, but merely pointed to the gate. 

"Eh? What--why--why, Caleb, that's--ain't that the Nickerson memorialgate? . . . It can't be! But--but it IS! Why--"

Mr. Hammond was muttering to himself. 

"We took the wrong road at the crossin', " he said. "Then we must haveswitched again, probably when we was arguin' about kindlin' the fire;then we must have turned again when the harness broke; and that musthave fetched us into Lemuel Ellis' wood-lot road that comes out--"

"Eh? Lemuel Ellis' wood-lot? Why, Lemuel's wood-lot is at--"

"It's at Wellmouth Centre, that's where 'tis. No wonder that churchlooked familiar. Hannah, we ain't been nigh Bayport. We've been ridin'round and round in circles through them woods all night. "

"Caleb HAMMOND!"

Before Caleb could add anything to his astonishing statement the silenceof the night was broken by the clang of the bell in the tower of thechurch. It clanged four times. 

"WHAT!" exclaimed Caleb. "Only four o'clock! It can't be!"

"My soul!" cried Miss Parker, "only four! Why--why, I thought we'd beenridin' ten hours at least. . . . Caleb Hammond, you and me don't want tofind a minister; what we need to look up is a pair of guardians to takecare of us. "

But Mr. Hammond seized her arm. 

"Hannah, " he cried, excitedly, "do you understand what that means--thatclock strikin'? It means that, bein' as we're only five miles from home, we can GET home, if we want to, afore anybody's out of bed. You cansneak up that ladder again; I can get that horse and team back inThankful's stable; we can both be in our own beds by gettin'-up time andnot one soul need ever know a word about this foolishness. If we--"

But Miss Parker had not waited for him to finish; she was already on herway to the carryall. 

At a quarter after seven that morning Thankful knocked at the door ofher boarder's room. 

"Mr. Hammond!" she called. "Mr. Hammond!"

Caleb awoke with a start. 

"Eh?" he said. 

"Are you up? It's most breakfast time. "

Caleb, now more thoroughly awake, looked about his room. It was real; hewas actually in it--and safe--and still single. 

"Yes--yes; all right, " he said. "I'll get right up. Must have oversleptmyself, I guess. What--what made you call me? Nothin'--er--nothin'shappened, has it?"

"No, nothin's happened. But you're usually up by seven and, as I hadn'theard a sound from you, I was afraid you might be sick. "

"No, no; I ain't sick. I'm feelin' fine. Has--has Kenelm Parker got hereyet?"

"Yes, he's here. "

"Ain't--ain't said nothin', has he?"

"Said anything? No. What do you mean? What did you expect him to say?"

"Nothin', nothin', I--I wondered what sort of a drive he and Imogene hadyesterday, that's all. I thought it would be fine to hear him tell aboutit. You run along, Mrs. Barnes; I'll hurry and get dressed. "

He jumped out of bed. He was tired and lame and his head ached--but, Oh, he was happy! He had stabled George Washington and reached his roomwithout disturbing anyone. And, as Kenelm had, according to Mrs. Barnes, spoken and appeared as usual, it was evident that Hannah Parker, too, had gotten safely and undetected to her own apartment. 

Thankful knocked at his door again. 

"I'm sorry, " she said, "but Melindy Pease hasn't sent home your mendin'yet. I'm afraid you'll have to do without your--er--your winter thingsfor one more day. "

"Hey? My winter--Oh, yes, yes. Well, I don't care. It's warmer todaythan 'twas yesterday. "

"Oh no, it isn't; it's a good deal colder. I hope you won't catch cold. "

"No, no, I shan't. I'm feelin' fine. "

"Well, thank goodness for that. "

"Thank goodness for a good many things, " said Mr. Hammond, devoutly. 

CHAPTER XIII

If Kenelm noticed that George Washington seemed unusually tired thatmorning, or that the old carryall behind the barn had some new scratcheson its sides and wheels, and leaves and pine needles on its cushions andfloor, he did not mention what he saw. For a day or two both Mr. Hammondand Miss Parker were anxious and fearful, but as nothing was said andno questions were asked, they began to feel certain that no one savethemselves knew of the elopement which had turned out to be no elopementat all. For a week Hannah's manner toward her brother was sweetnessitself. She cooked the dishes he liked and permitted him to do as hepleased without once protesting or "nagging. " She had done comparativelylittle of the latter since the announcement of the "engagement, " but nowshe was more considerate and self-sacrificing than ever. If Kenelm wasaware of the change he made no comment upon it, perhaps thinking it goodpolicy to let well enough alone. Gradually the eloping couple began tofeel that their secret was secure and to cease worrying about it. ButCaleb called no more at the Parker cottage and when he and Hannah metthey bowed, but did not stop to converse. 

Miss Timpson's sudden departure from the High Cliff House caused lesstalk than Thankful had feared. It happened that the "cousin Sarah" towhose home Miss Abigail had fled, was seized with an attack of grippeand this illness was accepted as the cause of the schoolmistress's move. And Miss Timpson herself kept her word; she told no one of the "warning"she had received. So Thankful was spared the gossip and questioningconcerning the snoring ghost in the back bedroom. For so much she wasgrateful, but she missed the weekly room rent and the weekly boardmoney. The financial situation was becoming more and more serious forher, and as yet Solomon Cobb had not made known his decision in thematter of the mortgage. 

During the week following Miss Timpson's departure Thankful spentseveral nights in the rooms the former had vacated, lying awake andlistening for sounds from the back bedroom. She heard none. No ghostsnored for her benefit. Then other happenings, happenings of this world, claimed her attention and she dropped psychical research for the time. 

The first of these happenings was the most surprising. One forenoonKenelm returned from an errand to the village bringing the morning'smail with him. There were two letters for Mrs. Barnes. One was fromEmily and, as this happened to be on top, Thankful opened it first. 

There was good news in the letter, good news for Georgie and also forMrs. Barnes herself. Georgie had been enjoying himself hugely during hisstay in East Wellmouth. He spent every moment of pleasant weather outof doors and his energetic exuberance kept the livestock as well as thehumans on the "Cap'n Abner place" awake and lively. He fed the hens, hecollected the eggs, he pumped and carried water for George Washington;and the feeding of Patrick Henry was his especial care. That pig, now aplump and somnolent porker, was Georgie's especial favorite. It was past"hog-killing time" in East Wellmouth, but Thankful had given up the ideaof turning Patrick Henry into spare ribs and lard, at least until herlively young relative's visit was at an end. That end was what Georgiefeared. He did not want to go home. Certainly Thankful did not want himto go, and she and Captain Obed--the latter's fondness for his "secondmate" stronger than ever--wrote to Miss Howes, begging her to use herinfluence with the family to the end that Georgie's visit might beprolonged until after Christmas, at any rate. 

And in Emily's reply, the letter which Kenelm brought from thepostoffice that morning, the permission was granted. Georgie might stayuntil New Year's Day. 

Then [wrote Emily], he must come back with me. Yes, with me; for, yousee, I am going to keep my word. I am coming to spend my Christmasvacation with you, just as I said I should if it were possible. There!aren't you glad? I know you are, for you must be so lonely, although onenot knowing you as well as I do would never guess it from your letters. You always write that all is well, but I know. By the way, are there anydevelopments in the matter of the loan from Mr. Cobb? I am very gladthe renewal of the mortgage is to be all right, but I think he should domore than that. And have you been troubled in the other affair, that ofyour neighbor? You have not mentioned it--but have you?

Thankful had not been troubled in the "other affair. " That is to say, she had not been troubled by E. Holliday Kendrick or his attorney. No move had been made, at least so far as anyone could learn, in theproject of forcing her to sell out, and Heman Daniels declared thatnone would be made. "It is one thing to boast, " said Mr. Daniels, "andanother to make good. My--ahem--er--professional rival is beginningto realize, I think, that he has in this case bitten off more than hecan--er--so to speak, chew. That young man has succeeded in ruininghimself in this community and that is all he has succeeded in. "

John said nothing. At his new boarding-place, Darius Holt's, he answeredno questions concerning his plans, and was silent and non-communicative. He kept to himself and made no effort to regain his lost popularity orto excuse his action. Thankful saw him but seldom and even Captain Obedno longer mentioned John's name unless it was mentioned to him. Then hediscussed the subject with a scornful sniff and the stubborn declarationthat there was a mistake somewhere which would some day be explained. But his confidence was shaken, that was plain, and his optimism assumed. He and Mrs. Barnes avoided discussion of John Kendrick and his affairs. 

Thankful read and reread the letter from Emily Howes. The news itcontained was so good that she forgot entirely the fact that there wasanother envelope in the mail. Only when, as she sprang to her feet torush out into the yard and tell Georgie that his plea for an extensionof his visit was granted, was her attention called to this secondletter. It fell from her lap to the floor and she stooped and picked itup. 

The first thing she noticed was that the envelope was in a remarkablycrumpled and dirty condition. It looked as if it had been carried in apocket--and a not too clean pocket--for many days. Then she noticed thepostmark--"Omaha. " The address was the last item to claim her attentionand, as she stared at the crumpled and crooked hand-writing, she gaspedand turned pale. 

Slowly she sank back into her chair and tore open the envelope. Theinclosure was a dingy sheet of cheap notepaper covered with a penciledscrawl. With trembling fingers she unfolded the paper and read what waswritten there. Then she leaned back in the chair and put her hand to herforehead. 

She was sitting thus when the door of the dining-room opened and a voicehailed: "Ahoy there! Anybody on deck?"

She turned to see Captain Obed Bangs' cheery face peering in at her. 

"Hello!" cried the captain, entering the room and tossing his cap on thetable. "You're here, are you? I was lookin' for you and Imogene said shecal'lated you was aboard ship somewheres, but she wa'n't sartin where. I've come to get that second mate of mine. I'm goin' off with a gangto take up the last of my fish weirs and I thought maybe the littleshaver'd like to go along. I need help in bossin' the fo'mast hands, yousee, and he's some consider'ble of a driver, that second mate is. Yes sir-ee! You ought to hear him order 'em to get up anchor. Ho! ho!I--Hey? Why--why, what's the matter?"

Thankful's face was still pale and she was trembling. 

"Nothin', nothin', Cap'n Bangs, " she said. "I've had a--a surprise, that's all. "

"A surprise! Yes, you look as if you had. " Then, noticing the letter inher lap, he added. "You ain't had bad news, have you?"

"No. No, not exactly. It's good news. Yes, in a way it's good news, but--but I didn't expect it and--and it has shook me up a good deal. . . . And--and I don't know what to do. Oh, I don't know WHAT I'd oughtto do!"

The distress in her tone was so real that the captain was greatlydisturbed. He made a move as if to come to her side and then, hesitating, remained where he was. 

"I--I'd like to help you, Thank--er--Mrs. Barnes, " he faltered, earnestly. "I like to fust-rate, if--if I could. Ain't there--is thereanything I could do to help? Course you understand I ain't nosin' inon your affairs, but, if you feel like tellin' me, maybe I--Lookhere, 'tain't nothin' to do with that cussed Holliday Kendrick or hismeanness, is it?"

Thankful shook her head. "No, " she said, "it isn't that. I've beenexpectin' that and I'd have been ready for anything he might do--ortry to do. But I wasn't expectin' THIS. How COULD anybody expect it? Ithought he was dead. I thought sure he must be dead. Why, it's six yearsince he--and now he's alive, and he wants--What SHALL I do?"

Captain Obed took a step forward. 

"Now, Mrs. Barnes, " he begged, "I wish you would--that is, you know ifyou feel like it I--well, here I am. Can't I do SOMETHIN'?"

Thankful turned and looked at him. She was torn between an intensedesire to make a confidant of someone and her habitual tendency to keepher personal affairs to herself. The desire overcame the habit. 

"Cap'n Bangs, " she said, suddenly, "I will tell you I've just got totell somebody. If he was just writin' to say he was all right and alive, I shouldn't. I'd just be grateful and glad and say nothin'. But the poorthing is poverty-struck and friendless, or he says he is, and he wantsmoney. And--and I haven't got any money just now. "

"I have, " promptly. "Or, if I ain't got enough with me I can get more. How much? Just you say how much you think he'll need and I'll haveit for you inside of a couple of hours. If money's all you want--why, that's nothin'. "

Thankful heard little, apparently, of this prodigal offer. She took upthe letter. 

"Cap'n Bangs, " said she, "you remember I told you, one time when we weretalkin' together, that I had a brother--Jedediah, his name was--who usedto live with me after my husband was drowned?"

"Yes. I remember. You said he'd run off to go gold-diggin' in theKlondike or somewheres. You said he was dead. "

"I thought he must be. I gave him up long ago, because I was sartin sureif he wasn't dead he'd have written me, askin' me to let him come back. I knew he'd never be able to get along all by himself. But he isn'tdead. He's alive and he's written me now. Here's his letter. Read it, please. "

The captain took the letter and slowly read it through. It was arambling, incoherent epistle, full of smudges where words had beenscratched out and rewritten, but a pitiful appeal nevertheless. JedediahCahoon had evidently had a hard time since the day when, after declaringhis intention never to return until "loaded down with money, " he hadclosed the door of his sister's house at South Middleboro and gone outinto the snowstorm and the world. His letter contained few particulars. He had wandered far, even as far as his professed destination, theKlondike, but, wherever he had been, ill luck was there to meet him. He had earned a little money and lost it, earned a little more andlost that; had been in Nome and Vancouver and Portland and Seattle; haddriven a street car in Tacoma. 

I wrote you from Tacoma, Thankful [the letter said], after I lost thatjob, but you never answered. Now I am in 'Frisco and I am down and out. I ain't got any good job and I don't know where I will get one. I wantto come home. Can't I come? I am sorry I cleared out and left you theway I done, and if you will let me come back home again I will try tobe a good brother to you. I will; honest. I won't complain no more andI will split the kindling and everything. Please say I can come. DoPLEASE. 

Then came the appeal for money, money for the fare east. It was to besent to an address in San Francisco, in care of a person named MichaelKelly. 

I am staying with this Kelly man [concluded Jedediah]. He keeps a kindof hotel like and I am doing chores for him. If you send the money rightoff I will get it I guess before he fires me. Send it QUICK for the Lordsakes. 

Captain Obed finished the letter. 

"Whew!" he whistled. "He's in hard luck, ain't he?"

Thankful wrung her hands. "Yes, " she answered, "and I must help himsomehow. But how I'm goin' to do it just now I don't see. But I must, ofcourse. He's my brother and I MUST. "

"Sartin you must. We--er--that is, that can be fixed all right. Humph!He sent this to you at South Middleboro, didn't he, and 'twas forwarded. Let's see when he wrote it. . . . Eh? Why, 'twas written two months ago!Where in the world has it been all this time?"

"I don't know. I can't think. And he says he is in San Francisco, andthe postmark on that envelope is Omaha, Nebraska. "

"Land of love, so 'tis. And the postmark date is only four days back. Why did he hang on to the thing for two months afore he mailed it? Andhow did it get to Omaha?"

"I don't know. All I can think of is that he gave the letter to somebodyelse to mail and that somebody forgot it. That's all I can think of. Ican't really think of anything after a shock like this. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! The poor, helpless, incompetent thing! He's probably starved todeath by this time and it's all my fault. I NEVER should have let himgo. What SHALL I do? Wasn't there enough without this?"

For the first time Thankful's troubles overcame her courage andself-restraint. She put her handkerchief to her eyes. 

The captain was greatly upset. He jammed his hands into his pockets, took them out again, reached for his own handkerchief, blew his noseviolently, and began pacing up and down the room. Suddenly he seemed tohave made up his mind. 

"Mrs. Barnes, " he said, "I--I--"

Thankful's face was still buried in her handkerchief. 

"I--I--" continued Captain Obed. "Now, now, don't do that. Don't DO it!"

Mrs. Barnes wiped her eyes. 

"I won't, " she said, stoutly. "I won't. I know I'm silly and childish. "

"You ain't neither. You're the pluckiest and best woman ever was. You'rethe finest--er--er--Oh, consarn it, Thankful, don't cry any more. Can'tyou, " desperately, "can't you see I can't stand it to have you?"

"All right, Cap'n Bangs, I won't. Don't you bother about me or myworries. I guess likely you've got enough of your own; most peoplehave. "

"I ain't. I ain't got enough. Do me good if I had more. Thankful, seehere; what's the use of your fightin' all these things alone? I'vewatched you ever since you made port here in South Wellmouth and it'sbeen nothin' but fight and worry all the time. What's the use of it?You're too good a woman to waste your life this way. Give it up. "

"Give it up?"

"Yes, give it up. Give up this wearin' yourself out keepin' boarders andrunnin' this big house. Why don't you stop takin' care of other folksand take care of yourself for a spell?"

"But I can't. I can't take care of myself. All I have is invested inthis place and if I give it up I lose everything. "

"Yes, yes, I know what you mean. But what I mean is--is--"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean--I mean why don't you let somebody take care of you? That's whatI mean. "

Thankful turned to stare at him. 

"Somebody--else--take care of me?" she repeated. 

"Yes--yes. Don't look at me like that. If you do I can't say it. I'm--I'm havin' a--a hard enough time sayin' it as 'tis. ThankfulBarnes, why--don't LOOK at me, I tell you!"

But she still looked at him, and, if a look ever conveyed a meaning, hers did just then. 

"I ain't crazy, " declared Captain Obed. "I can see you think I am, butI ain't. Thankful, I--Oh, thunderation! What is the matter with me?Thankful, let ME take care of you, will you?"

Thankful rose to her feet. "Obed Bangs!" she exclaimed. 

"I mean it. I've been meanin' it more and more ever since I first metyou, but I ain't had the spunk to say it. Now I'm goin' to say it if Ikeel over on the last word. Thankful, why don't you marry me?"

Thankful was speechless. The captain plunged desperately on. 

"Will you, Thankful?" he begged. "I know I'm an old codger, but I ain'tin my second childhood, not yet. I--I'd try mighty hard to make youhappy. I haven't got anybody of my own in the world. Neither haveyou--except this brother of yours, and, judgin' from his letter and whatyou say, HE won't take any care; he'll BE a care, that's all. I ain'trich, but I've got money enough to help you--and him--and me afloat andcomf'table. Thankful, will you?"

Thankful was still looking at him. He would have spoken again, but sheraised her hand and motioned him to silence. 

"Obed, " she asked, after a moment, "what made you say this to me?"

"What made me say it? What kept me still so long, you ought to ask. Haven't I come to think more and more of you ever since I knew you?Haven't I been more and more sorry for you? And pitied you? I--"

She raised her hand again. "I see, " she said, slowly. "I see. Thankyou, Obed. You're so kind and self-sacrificin' you'd do anything or sayanything to help a--friend, wouldn't you? But of course you can't dothis. "

"Can't? Why can't I? Self-sacrifice be hanged! Thankful, can't yousee--"

"Yes. Oh yes. I can see. . . . Now let's talk about Jedediah. Do youthink--"

"Jedediah be keelhauled! Will you marry me, Thankful Barnes?"

"Why no, Obed; of course I won't. "

"You won't? Why not?"

"Because--well, because I--I can't. There, there, Obed! Please don't askme again. Please don't!"

Captain Obed did not ask. He did not speak again for what, to Mrs. Barnes, seemed a long, long time. At length she could bear it no longer. 

"PLEASE, Obed, " she begged. 

The captain slowly shook his head. Then he laughed a short, mirthlesslaugh. 

"What an old fool I am!" he muttered. "What an old fool!"

"Obed, don't talk so! Don't! Do you want to makethis--everything--harder for me?"

He straightened and squared his shoulders. 

"Thank you, Thankful, " he said, earnestly. "Thank you for sayin' that. That's the way to talk to me. I know I'm an old fool, but I won't be anymore, if I can help it. Make it harder for you? I guess not!"

"Obed, I'm so sorry. "

"Sho! sho! You needn't be. . . . I'm all right. I've been dreamin'foolish dreams, like a young feller after a church picnic dinner, butI'm awake now. Yes'm, I'm awake. Now just you forget that I talked in mysleep. Forget the whole of it and let's get back to--to that brother ofyours. We've got to locate him, that's the first thing to be done. I'llsend a telegram right off to that Kelly man out in 'Frisco askin' ifwhat's-his-name--Jedediah--is there yet. "

"Obed, you won't--you won't feel hard towards me? You won'tlet--this--interfere with our friendship?"

"Sho! Hush, hush, Thankful! You make me more ashamed of myself thanever, and that ain't necessary. Now the first thing is to send thattelegram. If we locate your brother then we'll send him a ticket toBoston and some money. Don't you worry, Thankful; we'll get him here. And don't you fret about the money neither. I'll 'tend to that and youcan pay me afterwards. "

"No, no; of course I shan't let--"

"Yes, you will. There's some things you can't stop and that's one of'em. You talked about our friendship, didn't you? Well, unless you wantme to believe I ain't your friend, you'll let me run my own coursethis time. So long, Thankful; I'm off to Chris Badger's to send thattelegram. "

He snatched up his cap and was on his way to the door. She followed him. 

"Obed, " she faltered, "I--I--What CAN I say to you? You are SO good!"

"Tut! tut! Me good? Don't let Heman Daniels hear you say that. He's achurch deacon and knows what goodness is. So long, Thankful. Soon's Ihear from Kelly, I'll report. "

He hurried from the house. Thankful watched him striding down the path. Not once did he hesitate or look back. She turned from the door and, returning to her chair by the center table, sat down. For a moment shesat there and then, leaning her head upon her arms on the table, wepttears of absolute loneliness and despair. 

The telegram to Michael Kelly of San Francisco brought an answer, buta most unsatisfactory one. Jedediah Cahoon had not been in the Kellyemploy for more than six weeks. Kelly did not know where he had goneand, apparently, did not care. Captain Obed then wired and wrote the SanFrancisco police officials, urging them to trace the lost one. This theypromised to do, but nothing came of it. The weeks passed and no wordfrom them or from Jedediah himself was received. His letter had come toprove that, at the time it was written, he was alive; whether or not hewas still alive, or where he might be if living, was as great a mysteryas ever. Day after day Thankful watched and waited and hoped, but herwaiting was unrewarded, and, though she still hoped, her hope grewsteadily fainter; and the self-reproach and the worry greater inproportion. 

She and Georgie and Imogene spent Thanksgiving Day alone. Heman Danielsand Mr. Hammond were invited out and Captain Obed, who had meant to eathis Thanksgiving dinner at the High Cliff House, was called to Boston onbusiness connected with his fish selling, and could not return in time. 

Early in December Thankful once more drove to Trumet to call uponSolomon Cobb. The question of the renewal of the mortgage she felt mustremain a question no longer. But she obtained little satisfaction fromher talk with the money-lender. Mr. Cobb's first remark concerned theHolliday Kendrick offer to buy the "Cap'n Abner place. "

"Did he mean it, do you think?" he demanded. "Is he really so sot onbuyin' as folks say he is?"

"I'm afraid so. "

"Huh! And he's hired his lawyer--that young cousin of his--BaileyKendrick's son--to make you sell out to him?"

"Yes. "

"What's the young feller done about it; anything?"

"No; nothin' that I know of. "

"Humph! Sure of that, be ye? I hear he's been spendin' consider'ble timeover to Ostable lately, hangin' round the courthouse, and the probateclerk's office. Know what he's doin' that for?"

"No, I didn't know he had. How did you know it?"

"I knew. Ain't much goin' on that I don't know; I make it my business toknow. Why don't you sell out to old Holliday?"

"I don't want to sell. My boardin'-house has just got a good start andwhy should I give it up? I won't sell. "

"Oh, you won't! Pretty independent for anybody with a mortgage hangin'over 'em, ain't ye?"

"Solomon, are you goin' to renew that mortgage when it comes due?"

Mr. Cobb pulled his whiskers. "I don't know's I am and I don't know's Iain't, " he said. "This Kendrick business kind of mixes things up. Mightbe a good idea for me to foreclose that mortgage and sell the place tohim at my own price. Eh? What do you think of that?"

"You wouldn't do it! You couldn't be so--"

"So what? Business is business and if he's goin' to put you out anyhow, I don't see why I shouldn't get my share of the pickin's. "

"But he ain't goin' to put me out. "

"He says he is. Now--now--clear out and don't bother me. When thatmortgage falls due I'll let you know what I intend doin' with it. Ifyou pester me now I won't renew anyhow. Go along home and quit yourfrettin'. Long's you're there, you BE there. What more do you want?"

There was a good deal more of this sort of thing, but it was all quiteas unsatisfactory. Thankful gave it up at last. 

"I shan't come here again, " she declared desperately. "If you want tosee me you can come to my place. "

"Humph!"

"Well, you will, or not see me. Why haven't you been there? Time andtime again you have promised to come, but you never have. I shall beginto believe there is some reason why you don't want to go into thathouse. "

She was on her way to the door, but Solomon called after her. 

"Here!" he shouted. "Hold on! What do you mean by that? Why shouldn't Igo into that house if I want to? Why shouldn't I?"

"I don't know; all I know is that you don't seem to want to. I can't saywhy you don't want to, but--"

"But what?"

"But, maybe, if someone that's dead and gone was here--he could. "

"He--he--who? What? Hi! Where you goin'?"

"I'm goin' home. "

"No, you ain't--not until you tell me what you mean by--by somebodythat's dead and gone. What kind of talk is that? What do you mean?"

"Maybe I don't know what I mean, Solomon; but I think you do. If youdon't then your looks belie you, that's all. "

She went out of the "henhouse. " As she drove away she saw Mr. Cobbpeering at her through the window. He was "weeding" with both hands andhe looked agitated and--yes, frightened. Thankful was more than evercertain that his mysterious behavior was in some way connected with hispast dealings with her Uncle Abner, but, not knowing what those dealingsmight have been, the certainty was not likely to help her. And he hadnot said that he would renew the mortgage. 

Georgie was the first to meet her when she drove into the yard. He hadbeen spending the day with Captain Obed and had coaxed the latter intotelling him stories of Santa Claus. Georgie's mind was now filled withanticipations of Christmas and Christmas presents, and his faith inSanta, which had been somewhat shaken during his year at kindergarten inSouth Middleboro, was reviving again. The captain and Imogene and Mrs. Barnes all helped in the revival. "Christmas loses three-quarters of itsfun when old Santa's took out of it, " declared Captain Obed. "I know, 'count of havin' been a young one myself a thousand year ago orsuch matter. This'll probably be the second mate's last Santa ClausChristmas, so let's keep this one the real thing for the boy. "

So he and Imogene and Thankful--yes, even Kenelm--discussed Santa forGeorgie's benefit and Georgie believed, although his belief was not asabsolute and unquestioning as it had once been. He asked a great manyquestions, some of which his elders found hard to answer. His dearestwish was for an air-gun, but somehow Mrs. Barnes did not seem to thinkthe wish would be gratified. She had a strong presentiment that thecombination of Georgie and an air-gun and the chickens might not be adesirable one, especially for the chickens. 

"But why won't he bring it, Auntie?" demanded Georgie. "You say hebrings good boys what they want. I've been a good boy, ain't I?"

"'Deed you have. I wouldn't ask for a better one. "

"Then why won't Santa bring me the gun?"

"Perhaps he'll think a gun isn't nice for such a little boy to have. "

"But it is nice. It's nicer'n anything. If I'm good and I want it Idon't see why I can't have it. I think Santa's mean if he don't bringit. "

"Oh no, he isn't mean. Just think how good he is! He comes to every boyand girl--"

"No, he don't. "

"Why yes, he does. To every good little boy and girl. "

"He never came to Patsy Leary that lived up on the lots in Middleboro. Patsy said he didn't; he said there wasn't any Santa Claus, Patsy did. "

"Hum! Perhaps Patsy wasn't good. "

"Gee! Yes, he was. He can play baseball better'n any boy I know. And hecan lick any kid his size; he told me he could. "

This crushing proof of young Leary's goodness was a staggerer forThankful. Before she could think of a reply Georgie asked anotherquestion. 

"You say he'll come down the chimney?" he queried. 

"Yes. "

"The livin'-room chimney?"

"Yes, probably. "

"No, he won't. "

"Georgie!"

"How can he? He's so fat; he's ever so fat in the pictures. How can heget through the stovepipe?"

Mrs. Barnes' answer was evasive and Georgie noticed the evasion. However, his trust in his Aunt Thankful was absolute and if she saida fat man could get through a stovepipe he probably could. But theperformance promised to be an interesting one. Georgie wished he mightsee it. He thought a great deal about it and, little by little, a planbegan forming in his mind. 

Three days before Christmas Emily Howes arrived at the High Cliff House. She was received with rejoicings. The young lady looked thinner thanwhen she went away and seemed more grave and careworn. But when Thankfulcommented upon her appearance Emily only laughed and declared herselfquite well and perfectly happy. She and her cousin discussed all topicsof common interest except one, that one was John Kendrick. Once or twiceThankful mentioned the young man's name, but invariably Emily changedthe subject. It was evident that she did not wish to speak of John;also it was, to Mrs. Barnes, just as evident that she thought of him. Thankful believed that those thoughts were responsible for the change inher relative's look and manner. 

Christmas was to be, as Thanksgiving had been, a day free from boardersat the High Cliff House. Caleb was again "asked out, " and Mr. Daniels, so he said, "called away. " He had spent little time in East Wellmouth oflate, though no one seemed to know exactly where he had been or why. 

The day before Christmas was cold and threatening. Late in the afternoonit began to rain and the wind to blow. By supper time a fairly ablestorm had developed and promised to develop still more. Captain Obed, his arms filled with packages, all carefully wrapped and all mysteriousand not to be opened till the next day, came in just after supper. 

"Where's that second mate of mine?" whispered the captain, anxiously. When told that Georgie was in the kitchen with Imogene he sighed inrelief. 

"Good!" he said. "Hide those things as quick as ever you can, afore helays eyes on 'em. He's sharper'n a sail needle, that young one is, andif he can't see through brown paper he can GUESS through it, I bet you. Take em away and put 'em out of sight--quick. "

Emily hurried upstairs with the packages. Captain Obed turned toThankful. 

"How is she these days?" he asked, with a jerk of the head in thedirection taken by Miss Howes. 

"She's pretty well, or she says she is. I ain't so sure myself. I'mafraid she thinks about--about HIM more than she makes believe. I'mafraid matters between them two had gone farther'n we guessed. "

Captain Obed nodded. "Shouldn't wonder, " he said. "John looks prettypeaked, too. I saw him just now. "

"You did? John Kendrick? He's been out of town for a week or two, so Iheard. Where did you see him?"

"At the Centre depot. I was up to the Centre--er--buyin' a few thingsand he got off the noon train. "

"Did you speak to him?"

"Yes, or he spoke to me. He and I ain't said much to each other--whatlittle we've seen of each other lately--but that's been his fault more'n'twas mine. He sung out to me this time, though, and I went over to theplatform. Say, " after a moment's hesitation, "there's another thingI want to ask you. How's Heman Daniels actin' since Emily come? Seemsmore'n extry happy, does he?"

"Why--why, no. He's been away, too, a good deal; on business, he said. "

"Humph! He and--er--Emily haven't been extra thick, then?"

"No. Come to think of it they've hardly seen each other. Emily has actedsort of--sort of queer about him, too. She didn't seem to want to talkabout him more'n she has about John. "

"Humph! That's funny. I can't make it out. You see Heman got on thatsame train John got off. He was comin' along the depot platform just asI got to it. And the depot-master sung out to him. "

"The depot-master? Eben Foster, you mean?"

"Yup. He sung out, 'Congratulations, Heman, ' says he. "

"'What you congratulatin' him for?' says I. 

"'Ain't you heard?' says he. 'He's engaged to be married'. "

Thankful uttered an exclamation. 

"Engaged!" she repeated. "Mr. Daniels engaged--to be married?"

"So Eben said. I wanted to ask a million questions, of course, but JohnKendrick was right alongside me and I couldn't. John must have heard it, too, and it did seem to me that he looked pretty well shook up, but hewa'n't any more shook than I was. I thought--Well, you see, I thought--"

Thankful knew what he had thought. She also was "shaken up. "

"I don't believe it, " she cried. "If--if--it can't he HER. Why, shewould have told me, I'm sure. Obed, you don't think--"

"I don't know what to think. Heman's been writin' her pretty reg'lar, I know that, 'cause Chris Badger told me so a week after she'd gone. Idon't know, Thankful; one thing's sartin, Heman's kept his engagementmighty quiet. How Eben learned of it I don't know, but nobody in EastWellmouth knows, for I've been soundin' ever since I struck here. "

Thankful was greatly troubled. "I HOPE it ain't true, " she cried. "Isuppose he's all right, but--but I didn't want Emily to marry him. "

"Neither did I. Perhaps she ain't goin' to. Perhaps it's just around-the-stove lie, like a shipload of others that's set afloat everyday. But, from somethin' John Kendrick said to me on that platform Iknew he heard what Eben said. "

"How do you know?"

"'Cause he as much as told me so. 'Is it true?' says he. 

"'I don't know, ' says I. 'First I'd heard of it, if 'tis. '

"He just nodded his head and seemed to be thinkin'. When he did speak'twas more to himself than to me. 'Well, ' says he, 'then that settlesit. I can do it now with a clear conscience. '

"'Do what?' I asked him. 

"'Oh, nothin', ' he says. 'Cap'n Obed, are you goin' to be busy all daytomorrow? I know it's Christmas, of course; but are you?'

"'Not so busy it'll wreck my nerves keepin' up with my dates, ' says I. 'Why?'

"'Can you spare a half-hour or so to come 'round to my office at--well, say two tomorrow afternoon? I've got a little business of my own and I'dlike to have you there. Will you come?'

"'Sartin, ' I told him. 

"'Of course, if you're afraid of the moral leprosy--'

"'I ain't. '

"'Then I'll look for you, ' says he, and off he went. I ain't seen himsince. He come down along of Winnie S. And I had one of Chris Badger'steams. Now WHAT do you cal'late it all means?"

"I don't know. I don't know. But I can't think Emily--Hush! she'scomin'. "

Emily entered the room and Captain Obed began philosophically concerningthe storm, which he declared was "liable to be a hooter. "

He went away soon after. At the door, when he and Mrs. Barnes werealone, he whispered, "Ain't changed your mind, have you, Thankful?About--about what I said to you that day?"

"Obed, please! You said you wouldn't. "

"All right, all right. Well, good night. I'll be around tomorrow towish you and Emily and the second mate a merry Christmas. Good night, Thankful. "

After he had gone Thankful and Emily assisted Georgie in hanging up hisstocking and preparing for bed. The boy seemed willing to retire, a mostunusual willingness for him. His only worry appeared to be concerningSanta Claus, whom he feared might be delayed in his rounds by the storm. 

"He'll be soaked, soppin' wet, won't he?" he asked anxiously. 

"Oh, he won't mind. Santa Claus don't mind this kind of weather. Helives up at the North Pole, so folks say. "

"Yes. Won't the chimney soot all stick to him when he's wet? He'll be asight, won't he?"

"Perhaps so, but he won't mind that, either. Now, you go to bed, Georgie, like a good boy. "

"I'm a-goin'. Say, Aunt Thankful, will the soot come all off on mypresents?"

They got him into bed at last and descended to the living-room. Thestorm was worse than ever. The wind howled and the rain beat. Emilyshivered. 

"Mercy! What a night!" she exclaimed. "It reminds me of our first nightin this house, Auntie. "

"Does; that's a fact. Well, I hope there's nobody prowlin' aroundlookin' for a place to put their head in, the way we were then. I--what's that?"

"What? What, Auntie? I didn't hear anything. "

"I thought I did. Sounded as if somebody was--and they are! Listen!"

Emily listened. From without, above the noise of the wind and rain andsurf, came a shout. 

"Hi!" screamed a high-pitched voice. "Hi! Let me in. I--I'm drownin'. "

Thankful rushed to the door and, exerting all her strength, pushed itopen against the raging storm. 

"There's nobody here, " she faltered. 

"But--but there is, Auntie. I heard someone. I--"

She stopped, for, out of the drenched darkness staggered a figure, thefigure of a man. He plunged across the threshold, tripped over the matand fell in a heap upon the floor. 

Emily shrieked. Mrs. Barnes pulled the door shut and ran to theprostrate figure. 

"Who is it?" she asked. "Who IS it? Are you hurt?"

The figure raised its head. 

"Hurt!" it panted. "It's a wonder I ain't dead. What's the matter withye? Didn't you hear me yellin' for you to open that door?"

Thankful drew a long breath. 

"For mercy sakes!" she cried. "Solomon Cobb! WHAT are you doin' overhere a night like this?"

CHAPTER XIV

Mr. Cobb slowly raised his head. He looked about him in a bewilderedway, and then his gaze fixed itself upon Mrs. Barnes. 

"What--why--YOU!" he gasped. 

"Eh?" stammered Thankful, whose surprise and bewilderment were almost asgreat as his. "Eh? What?"

"You?" repeated Solomon. "What--what are you doin' here?"

"What am I doin' here? What am I doin'?"

"Yes. " Then, after another stare about the room, he added: "This ain'tKenelm Parker's house? Whose house is it?"

"It's my house, of course. Emily, go and fetch some--some water orsomethin'. He's out of his head. "

Emily hurried to the kitchen, Thankful hastened to help the unexpectedvisitor to his feet. But the visitor declined to be helped. 

"Let me alone, " he roared. "Let me be. I--I want to know whose housethis is?"

"It's my house, I tell you. You ought to know whose house it is. Landsakes! You and I have had talk enough about it lately. Don't you knowwhere you are? What are you sittin' there on the floor for? Are youhurt?"

Slowly Mr. Cobb rose to his feet. 

"Do you mean to tell me, " he demanded, "that this is--is Abner's place?How'd I get here?"

"I don't know. I ain't hardly had time to make sure you are here yet. And I'm sartin YOU ain't sure. That was an awful tumble you got. Seemsas if you must have hurt yourself. And you're soppin' wet through! Whatin the WORLD?"

She moved toward him again, but he waved her away. 

"Let me alone!" he ordered. "I was headin' for Kenelm Parker's. How'd Iget here?"

"I tell you I don't know. I suppose you lost your way. No wonder, such anight's this. Set down. Let me get you somethin' hot to drink. Come outin the kitchen by the cookstove. Don't--"

"Hush up! Let me think. I never see such a woman to talk. I--I don't seehow I done it. I left Chris Badger's and came across the fields and--"

"And you took the wrong path, I guess, likely. Did you WALK from ChrisBadger's? Where's your horse and team? You didn't walk from the Centre, did you?"

"'Course I didn't. Think I'm a dum fool? My horse fell down and hurt hisknee and I left him in Badger's barn. I cal'lated to go to Kenelm's andput up over night. I--"

He was interrupted by Emily, who entered with a glass in her hand. 

"Here's the water, Auntie, " she said. "Is he better now?"

"Better?" snorted Solomon. "What's the matter with you? I ain't sick. What you got in that tumbler? Water! What in time do I want of any morewater? Don't I look as if I'd had water enough to last me one spell?I'm--consarn it all, I'm a reg'lar sponge! How far off is Kenelm's fromhere? How long will it take me to get there?"

Thankful answered, and her answer was decisive. 

"I don't know, " she said, "but I do know you ain't goin' to try to getanywhere 'till mornin'. You and I ain't been any too lovin', SolomonCobb, but I shan't take the responsibility of your dyin' of pneumonia. You'll stay right here, and the first thing I'll do is head off thatchill you've got this very minute. "

There was no doubt about the chill. Solomon's face and hands wereblue and he was shaking from head to foot. But his determination wasunshaken. He strode to the door. 

"How do I get to Parker's?" he demanded. 

"I tell you you mustn't go to Parker's or anywhere else. You're riskin'your life. "

Mr. Cobb did not answer. He lifted the latch and pulled the door open. Ahowling gust of wind-driven rain beat in upon him, drenching the carpetand causing the lamp to flicker and smoke. For a moment Solomon gazedout into the storm; then he relinquished his hold and staggered back. 

"I--I can't do it!" he groaned. "I've GOT to stay here! I've GOT to!"

Thankful, exerting all her strength, closed the door and locked it. "Indeed you've got to, " she declared. "Now go out into the kitchen andset by the stove while I heat a kettle and make you some ginger tea orsomethin'. "

Solomon hesitated. 

"He must, Aunt Thankful, " urged Emily; "he really must. "

The visitor turned to stare at her. 

"Who are you?" he demanded, ungraciously. Then, as another chill rackedhim from head to foot, he added: "I don't care. Take me somewheres andgive me somethin'--ginger tea or--or kerosene or anything else, so it'shot. I--I'm--sho--oo--ook all to--pi--ic--ces. "

They led him to the kitchen, where Thankful prepared the ginger tea. During its preparation she managed to inform Emily concerning theidentity of their unexpected lodger. Solomon, introduced to Miss Howes, merely grunted and admitted that he had "heard tell" of her. His mannermight have led a disinterested person to infer that what he had heardwas not flattering. He drank his tea, and as he grew warmer inside andout his behavior became more natural, which does not mean that it waseither gracious or grateful. 

At length he asked what time it was. Thankful told him. 

"I think you'd better be gettin' to bed, Solomon, " she suggested. "I'll hunt up one of Mr. Caleb Hammond's nightshirts, and while you'resleepin' your wet clothes can be dryin' here by the cookstove. "

Solomon grunted, but he was, apparently, willing to retire. Then camethe question as to where he should sleep. Emily offered a suggestion. 

"Why don't you put him in the back room, Auntie, " she said. "The oneMiss Timpson used to have. That isn't occupied now and the bed isready. "

Thankful hesitated. "I don't know's he'd better have that room, Emily, "she said. 

"Why not? I'm sure it's a very nice room. "

"Yes, I know it is, but--"

"But what?"

Mr. Cobb had a remark to make. 

"Well, come on, come on, " he said, testily. "Put me somewheres and doit quick. Long's I've GOT to sleep in this house I might's well be doin'it. Where is this room you're talkin' about? Let's see it. "

Emily took the lamp and led the way up the back stairs. Solomon followedher and Thankful brought up the rear. She felt a curious hesitancyin putting even her disagreeable relative in that room on this night. Around the gables and upon the roof the storm whined and roared asit had the night when she first explored that upper floor. And sheremembered, now, that it had stormed, though not as hard, the nightwhen Miss Timpson received her "warning. " If there were such things asghosts, and if the little back bedroom WAS haunted, a night like thiswas the time for spectral visitations. She had half a mind to give Mr. Cobb another room. 

But, before she could decide what to do, before the struggle between hercommon-sense and what she knew were silly forebodings was at an end, the question was decided for her. Solomon had entered the large room andexpressed his approval of it. 

"This'll do first rate, " he said. "Why didn't you want to put me inhere? Suppose you thought 'twas too good for me, eh? Well, it might befor some folks, but not for me. What's that, a closet?"

He was pointing to the closed door of the little room, the one whichMiss Timpson had intended using as a study. Thankful had, after her lastnight of fruitless spook hunting, closed the door and locked it. 

"What's this door locked for?" asked Mr. Cobb, who had walked over andwas trying the knob. 

"Oh, nothing; it's just another empty room, that's all. There's nothin'in it. "

"Humph! Is that so? What do you lock up a room with nothin' in it for?"He turned the key and flung the door open. "Ugh!" he grunted, in evidentdisappointment. "'Tis empty, ain't it? Well, good night. "

Emily, whose face expressed a decided opinion concerning the visitor, walked out into the hall. Thankful remained. 

"Solomon, " she said, in a whisper, "tell me. Have you made up your mindabout that mortgage?"

"Um? No, I ain't. Part of what I came over here today for was to findout a little more about this property and about Holliday Kendrick'soffer for it. I may have a talk with him afore I decide about renewin'that mortgage. It looks to me as if 'twould be pretty good business todicker with him. He's got money, and if I can get some of it, so muchthe better for me. "

"Solomon, you don't mean--"

"I don't know what I mean yet, I tell ye. But I do tell you this: I'ma business man and I know the value of money. I worked hard for what Igot; 'twa'n't left me by nobody, like some folks's I hear of. Don'task me no more questions. I'll see old Kendrick tomorrow, maybe; he'sexpected down. "

"He is? Mr. Holliday Kendrick? How do you know?"

"I know 'cause I found out, same as I usually find out things. ChrisBadger got a telegram through his office from Holliday to John Kendricksayin' he'd come on the noon train. "

"But why should he come? And on Christmas day?"

"I don't know. Probably he ain't so silly about Christmas as the averagerun of idiots. He's a business man, too. There! Good night, good night. Leave me alone so's I can say my prayers and turn in. I'm pretty nighbeat out. "

"And you won't tell me about that mortgage?"

"No. I'll tell you when my mind's made up; that ain't yet. "

Thankful turned to go. At the threshold she spoke once more. 

"I wonder what you say in those prayers of yours, Solomon, " sheobserved. "I should imagine the Lord might find 'em interestin'. "

"I'm glad I said it, Emily, " she told her cousin, who was awaiting herin her bedroom. "I presume likely it'll do more harm than good, but itdid ME good while I was sayin' it. The mean, stingy old hypocrite! Nowlet's go downstairs and fill Georgie's stockin'. "

But that ceremony, it appeared, must be deferred. Georgie was stillwide-awake. He called to Emily to ask if the man who had come was SantaClaus. 

"The little rascal, " chuckled Thankful. "Well, " with a sigh, "he'llnever make a worse guess if he lives to be as old as Methuselah'sgrandmarm. Emily, you sneak down and fetch the stockin' and the presentsup here to my room. We'll do the fillin' here and hang up the stockin'in the mornin' afore he gets up. "

While they were filling the stocking and tying the packages containinggifts too bulky to be put in it Miss Howes cross-questioned her cousin. Emily had been most unfavorably impressed with Mr. Cobb during this, her first, meeting with him, and her suspicions concerning Thankful'sfinancial affairs, already aroused by the lady's reticence, were nowactive. She questioned and, after a time, Thankful told her, first alittle and then all the truth. 

"I didn't mean to tell you, Emily, " she said, tearfully. "I didn't meanto tell a soul, but I--I just couldn't keep it to myself any longer. Ifhe doesn't renew that mortgage--and goodness knows what he'll do afterhe talks with Mr. Holliday Kendrick--I--I don't see how I can helplosin' everything. It's either that or sell out, and I don't want tosell--Oh, I don't! I know I can make a go of this place of mine if Ihave another year of it. I KNOW I can. "

Emily was very much excited and fiercely indignant. 

"The beast!" she cried, referring to the pious occupant of the backbedroom; "the mean, wicked, miserable old miser! To think of his beinga relative of yours, Aunt Thankful, and treating you so! And acceptingyour hospitality at the very time when he is considering taking yourhome away from you!"

Thankful smiled ruefully. "As to that, Emily, " she said, "I ain'tgreatly surprised. Judgin' by what I've seen of Sol Cobb, I should say'twas a part of his gospel to accept anything he can get for nothin'. But how he can have the face to pray while he's doin' it I don't see. What kind of a God does he think he's prayin' to? I should think he'dbe scared to get down on his knees for fear he'd never be let upagain. Well, if there IS a ghost in that room I should say this was itschance. "

"A ghost? What are you talking about, Auntie?"

"Eh? Oh, nothin', nothin'. Did I say 'ghost'? I didn't realize what Isaid, I guess. "

"Then why did you say it?"

"Oh, I don't know. . . . There, there, don't let's get any more foolishthan we can help. Let's go to bed. We'll have to turn out awful earlyin the mornin' to get Georgie's stockin' hung up and his presents ready. Now trot off to bed, Emily. "

"Aunt Thankful, you're hiding something from me. I know you are. "

"Now, Emily, you know I wouldn't--"

"Yes, you would. At least, you have. All this time you have beendeceiving me about that mortgage. And now I think there is somethingelse. What did you mean by a ghost in that room?"

"I didn't mean anything. There ain't any ghost in that room--the oneSolomon's in. "

"In THAT room? Is there one in another room?"

"Now, Emily--"

"Aunt Thankful, there is something strange in some room; don't deny it. You aren't accustomed to deceiving people, and you can't deceive me now. Tell me the truth. "

"Well, Emily, it's all such perfect foolishness. You don't believe inghosts, do you?"

"Of course I don't. "

"Neither do I. Whatever it is that snores and groans in that little backroom ain't--"

"AUNTIE! What DO you mean?"

Thankful was cornered. Her attempts at evasion were useless and, littleby little, Emily drew from her the story of the little back bedroom, ofher own experience there the night of their first visit, of what WinnieS. Had said concerning the haunting of the "Cap'n Abner place, " and ofMiss Timpson's "warning. " She told it in a low tone, so as not to awakenGeorgie, and, as she spoke, the wind shrieked and wailed and groaned, the blinds creaked, the water dripped and gurgled in the gutters, andthe shadows outside the circle of light from the little hand lamp wereblack and threatening. Emily, as she listened, felt the cold shiversrunning up and down her spine. It is one thing to scoff at superstitionin the bright sunlight; it is quite another to listen to a tale likethis on a night like this in a house a hundred years old. Miss Howesscoffed, it is true, but the scoffing was not convincing. 

"Nonsense!" she said, stoutly. "A ghost that snores? Who ever heard ofsuch a thing?"

"Nobody ever did, I guess, " Thankful admitted. "It's all too silly foranything, of course. I KNOW it's silly; but, Emily, there's SOMETHIN'queer about that room. I told you what I heard; somethin' or somebodysaid, 'Oh, Lord!' as plain as ever I heard it said. And somethin' orsomebody snored when Miss Timpson was there. And, of course, when theytell me how old Mr. Eldredge snored in that very room when he was dyin', and how Miss Timpson's sister snored when SHE was sick, it--it--"

"Oh, stop, Auntie! You will have ME believing in--in things, if you keepon. It's nonsense and you and I will prove it so before I go back toMiddleboro. Now you must go to bed. "

"Yes, I'm goin'. Well, if there is a ghost in that room it'll have itshands full with Sol Cobb. He's a tough old critter, if ever there wasone. Good night, Emily. "

"Good night, Aunt Thankful. Don't worry about the--ha! ha!--ghost, willyou?"

"No, I've got enough to worry about this side of the grave. . . . Mercy!what's the matter?"

"Nothing! I--I thought I heard a noise in--in the hall. I didn'tthough. "

"No, course you didn't. Shall I go to your room with you?"

"No indeed! I--I should be ashamed to have you. Where is Imogene?"

"She's up in her room. She went to bed early. Goodness! Hear that wind. It cries like--like somethin' human. "

"It's dreadful. It is enough to make anyone think. . . . There! If youand I talk any longer we shall both be behaving like children. Goodnight. "

"Good night, Emily. Is Georgie asleep at last?"

"I think so. I haven't heard a sound from him. Call me early, Auntie. "

Thankful lit her own lamp; Emily took the one already lighted andhastened down the hall. Thankful shut the door and prepared for bed. The din of the storm was terrific. The old house shook as if itwere trembling with fright and screaming in the agony of approachingdissolution. It was a long time before Thankful fell asleep, but at lastshe did. 

She was awakened by a hand upon her arm and a voice whispering in herear. 

"Auntie!" whispered Emily. "Auntie, wake up! Oh, DO wake up!"

Thankful was broad awake in a moment. She sat up in bed. The room was inblack darkness, and she felt rather than saw Miss Howes standing besideher. 

"What is it, Emily?" she cried. "What is the matter?"

"Hush, hush! Don't speak so loud. Get up! Get up and light the lamp. "

Thankful sprang out of bed and hunted for the matchbox. She found itafter a time and the lamp was lighted. Emily, wearing a wrapper over hernight clothes, was standing by the door, apparently listening. Her facewas white and she was trembling. 

"What IS it?" whispered Thankful. 

"Hush! I don't know what it is. Listen!"

Thankful listened. All she heard were the noises of the storm. 

"I don't hear anything, " she said. 

"No--no, you can't hear it from here. Come out into the hall. "

Cautiously and on tiptoe she led the way to the hall and toward the headof the front stairs. There she seized her cousin's arm and whispered inher ear. 

"Listen--!" she breathed. 

Thankful listened. 

"Why--why, " she whispered, "there's somebody down in the livin'-room!Who is it?"

"I don't know. There are more than one, for I heard them talking. WhoCAN it be?"

Thankful listened again. 

"Where's Georgie?" she whispered, after a moment. 

"In his room, I suppose. . . . What? You don't think--"

Thankful had tiptoed back to her own room and was returning with thelamp. Together they entered Georgie's bed chamber. But bed and room wereempty. Georgie was not there. 

CHAPTER XV

Georgie had gone to bed that Christmas Eve with a well-defined plan inhis small head. He knew what he intended doing and how he meant to doit. The execution of this plan depended, first of all, upon his notfalling asleep, and, as he was much too excited to be in the leastsleepy, he found no great difficulty in carrying out this part of hisscheme. 

He had heard the conversation accompanying Mr. Cobb's unexpectedentrance and had waited anxiously to ask concerning the visitor'sidentity. When assured by his sister that Santa had not arrived aheadof time he settled down again to wait, as patiently as he could, for the"grown-ups" to retire. 

So he waited and waited. The clock struck ten and then eleven. Georgierose, tiptoed to his door and listened. There were no sounds exceptthose of the storm. Then, still on tiptoe, the boy crept along the hallto the front stairs, down these stairs and into the living-room. Thefire in the "airtight" stove showed red behind the isinglass panes, andthe room was warm and comfortable. 

Georgie did not hesitate; his plan was complete to the minutest details. By the light from the stove he found his way to the sofa which stoodagainst the wall on the side of the room opposite the windows. There wasa heavy fringe on the sofa which hung almost to the floor. The youngsterlay flat upon the floor and crept under the fringe and beneath the sofa. There he lay still. Aunt Thankful and Captain Obed and Imogene had saidthere was a Santa Claus; the boy in South Middleboro had said there wasnone; Georgie meant to settle the question for himself this very night. This was his plan: to hide in that living-room and wait until Santacame--if he came at all. 

It was lonely and dark and stuffy under the sofa and the beat of therain and the howling gale outside were scary sounds for a youngster noolder than he. But Georgie was plucky and determined beyond his years. He was tempted to give up and scamper upstairs again, but he fought downthe temptation. If no Santa Claus came then he should know the Leary boywas right. If he did come then--well then, his only care must be not tobe caught watching. 

Twelve o'clock struck; Georgie's eyes were closing. He blinked owl-likeunder the fringe at the red glow behind the isinglass. His head, pillowed upon his outstretched arms, felt heavy and drowsy. He must keepawake, he MUST. So, in order to achieve this result, he began to countthe ticks of the big clock in the corner. One--two--three--and so on upto twenty-two. He lost count then; his eyes closed, opened, and closedagain. His thoughts drifted away from the clock, drifted to--to . . . 

His eyes opened again. There was a sound in the room, a strange, newsound. No, it was not in the room, it was in the dining-room. He heardit again. Someone in that dining-room was moving cautiously. The doorbetween the rooms was open and he could hear the sound of carefulfootsteps. 

Georgie was frightened, very much frightened. He was seized with a panicdesire to scream and rush up-stairs. He did not scream, but he thrustone bare foot from beneath the sofa. Then he hastily drew it in again, for the person in the dining-room, whoever he or she might be, wascoming toward the door. 

A moment later there was a scratching sound and the living-room wasdimly illumined by the flare of a match. The small and trembling watcherbeneath the sofa shut his eyes in fright. When he opened them the lampupon the center table was lighted and Santa Claus himself was standingby the table peering anxiously about. 

It was Santa--Georgie made up his mind to that immediately. There wasthe pack, the pack which the pictured Santa Claus always carried, toprove it, although in this instance the pack was but a small and ratherdirty bundle. There were other points of difference between the realSanta and the pictures; for instance, instead of being clothed entirelyin furs, this one's apparel seemed to be, for the most part, rags, andsoaked and dripping rags at that. But he did wear a fur cap, a mangy onewhich looked like a drowned cat, and his beard, though ragged like hisgarments, was all that might be desired. Yes, it was Santa Claus who hadcome, just as they said he would, although--and Georgie's doubts were sofar justified--he had NOT come down the living-room chimney. 

Santa was cold, it seemed, for his first move was to go to the stove andstand by it, shivering and warming his hands. During this operation hekept looking fearfully about him and, apparently, listening. Then, toGeorgie's chagrin and disappointment, he took up the lamp and tiptoedinto the dining-room again. However, he had not gone for good, for hispack was still upon the floor where he had dropped it. And a few minuteslater he reappeared, his pockets bulging and in his free hand theremains of half a ham, which Georgie himself had seen Aunt Thankful putaway in the pantry. 

He replaced the lamp on the table and from his pockets extracted the endof a loaf of bread, several doughnuts and a half-dozen molasses cookies. Then he seated himself in a chair by the stove and proceeded to eat, hungrily, voraciously, first the ham and bread and then the doughnutsand cookies. And as he ate he looked and listened, occasionally startingas if in alarm. 

At last, when he had eaten everything but the ham bone, he rose to hisfeet and turned his attention to the pack upon the floor. This was whatGeorgie had been waiting for, and as Santa fumbled with the pack, hisback to the sofa, the boy parted the fringe and peered at him with eagerexpectation. 

The pack, according to every story Georgie had been told, should havebeen bulging with presents; but if the latter were there they were undermore old clothes, even worse than those the Christmas saint was wearing. Santa Claus hurriedly pawed over the upper layer and then took out alittle package wrapped in tissue paper. Untying the string, he exposed asmall pasteboard box and from this box he lifted some cotton and then--aring. 

It was a magnificent ring, so Georgie thought. It had a big green stonein the center and the rest was gold, or what looked like gold. Santaseemed to think well of it, too, for he held it to the lamplight andmoved it back and forth, watching the shine of the green stone. Thenhe put the ring down, tore a corner from the piece of tissue paper, rummaged the stump of a pencil out of his rags, and, humping himselfover the table, seemed to be writing. 

It took him a long time and was plainly hard work, for he groanedoccasionally and kept putting the point of the pencil into his mouth. Georgie's curiosity grew stronger each second. Unconscious of what hewas doing, he parted the fringe still more and thrust out his head for abetter view. The top of his head struck the edge of the sofa with a dullthump. 

Santa Claus jumped as if someone had stuck a pin into him and turned. That portion of his face not covered by the scraggly beard was as whiteas mud and dirt would permit. 

"Who--who be YOU?" he demanded in a frightened whisper. 

Georgie was white and frightened also, but he manfully crept out frombeneath the sofa. 

"Who be you?" repeated Santa. 

"I--I'm Georgie, " stammered the boy. 

"Georgie! Georgie who?"

"Georgie Hobbs. The--the boy that lives here. "

"Lives--lives HERE?"

"Yes. " It seemed strange that the person reputed to know all thechildren in the world did not recognize him at sight. 

Apparently he did not, however, for after an instant of silent and shakyinspection he said:

"You mean to say you live here--in this house? Who do you live with?"

"Mrs. Barnes, her that owns the house. "

Santa gasped audibly. "You--you live with HER?" he demanded. "Good Lord!She--she ain't married again, is she?"

"Married! No--no, sir, she ain't married. "

"Then--then--See here, boy; what's your name--your whole name?"

"George Ellis Hobbs. I'm Mr. Hobbs's boy, up to South Middleboro, youknow. I'm down here stayin' with Aunt Thankful. She--"

"Sshh! sshh! Don't talk so loud. So you're Mr. Hobbs's boy, eh?What--eh? Oh, yes, yes. You're ma was--was Sarah Cahoon, wa'n't she?"

"Yes, sir. I--I hope you won't be cross because I hid under the sofa. They said you were coming, but I wasn't sure, and I--I thought I'd hideand see if you did. Please--" the tears rushed to Georgie's eyes at thedreadful thought--"please don't be cross and go away without leaving meanything. I'll never do so again; honest, I won't. "

Santa seemed to have heard only the first part of this plea forforgiveness. He put a hand to his forehead. 

"They said I was comin'!" he repeated. "They said--WHO said so?"

"Why, everybody. Aunt Thankful and Emily and Imogene and Cap'n Bangs andMr. Parker and--all of 'em. They knew you was comin' tonight, but I--"

"They knew it! Boy, are you crazy?"

Georgie shook his head. 

"No, sir. " Then, as Santa Claus sat staring blankly with open mouth andfingers plucking nervously at what seemed to be the only button on hiscoat, he added, "Please, sir, did you bring the air-gun?"

"Hey?"

"Did you bring the air-gun I wanted? They said you probably wouldn't, but I do want it like everything. I won't shoot the hens, honest Iwon't. "

Santa Claus picked at the button. 

"Say, boy, " he asked, slowly. "Who am I?"

Georgie was surprised. 

"Why, Santa Claus, " he replied. "You are Santa Claus, ain't you?"

"Eh? San . . . Oh, yes, yes! I'm Santa Claus, that's who I be. " Heseemed relieved, but still anxious. After fidgeting a moment he added, "Well, I cal'late I'll have to be goin' now. "

Georgie turned pale. 

"But--but where are the presents?" he wailed. "I--I thought you wasn'tgoin' to be cross with me. I'm awfully sorry I stayed up to watch foryou. I won't ever do it again. PLEASE don't go away and not leave me anypresents. Please, Mr. Santa Claus!"

Santa started. "Sshh!" he commanded in an agonized whisper. "Hush up!Somebody'll hear. . . . Eh? What's that?"

The front stairs creaked ominously. Georgie did not answer; he made aheadlong dive for his hiding-place beneath the sofa. Santa seemed to beeven more alarmed than the youngster. He glanced wildly about the roomand, as another creak came from the stairs, darted into the dining-room. 

For a minute or more nothing happened. Then the door leading to thefront hall, the door which had been standing ajar, opened cautiously andMrs. Barnes' head protruded beyond its edge. She looked about the room;then she entered. Emily Howes followed. Both ladies wore wrappers now, and Thankful's hand clutched an umbrella, the only weapon available, which she had snatched from the hall rack as she passed it. She advancedto the center table. 

"Who's here?" she demanded firmly. "Who lit this lamp? Georgie! GeorgieHobbs, we know you're here somewhere, for we heard you. Show yourselfthis instant. "

Silence--then Emily seized her cousin's arm and pointed. A small barefoot protruded from beneath the sofa fringe. Thankful marched to thesofa and, stooping, grasped the ankle above the foot. 

"Georgie Hobbs, " she ordered, "come out from under this sofa. "

Georgie came, partly of his own volition, partly because of thepersuasive tug at his ankle. 

"Now, then, " ordered Thankful; "what are you doin' down here? Answerme. "

Georgie did not answer. He marked a circle on the floor with his toe. 

"What are you doin' down here?" repeated Mrs. Barnes. "Did you lightthat lamp?"

"No'm, " replied Georgie. 

"Of course he didn't, Auntie, " whispered Emily. "There was someone herewith him. I heard them talking. "

"Who did light it?"

Georgie marked another circle. "Santa Claus, " he muttered faintly. 

Thankful stared, first at the boy and then at her cousin. 

"Mercy on us!" she exclaimed. "The child's gone crazy. Christmas hasstruck to his head!"

But Emily's fears were not concerning her small brother's sanity. "Hush, Auntie, " she whispered. "Hush! He was talking to someone. We both heardanother voice. WHO did you say it was, Georgie?"

"Santa Claus. Oh, Emmie, please don't be mad. I--I wanted to see himso--and--and when he came I--I--"

"There, there, Georgie; don't cry, dear. We're not cross. You weretalking to someone you thought was Santa. Where is he?"

"He WAS Santa Claus. He SAID he was. He went away when you came--intothe dinin'-room. "

"The dining-room? . . . Auntie, WHAT are you doing? Don't!"

But Thankful had seized the lamp and was already at the threshold of thedining-room. Holding the light aloft she peered into that apartment. 

"If there's anybody here, " she ordered, "they'd better come out because. . . . Here! I see you under that table. I--"

She stopped, gasped, and staggered back. Emily, running to her side, wasjust in time to prevent the lamp falling to the floor. 

"Oh, Auntie, " cried the young lady. "Auntie, what IS it?"

Thankful did not answer. Her face was white and she moved her handshelplessly. And there in the doorway of the dining-room appeared SantaClaus; and if ever Santa Claus looked scared and apprehensive he did atthat moment. 

Emily stared at him. Mrs. Barnes uttered a groan. Santa Claus smiledfeebly. 

"Hello, Thankful, " he said. "I--I cal'late you're surprised to see me, ain't you?"

Thankful's lips moved. 

"Are--are you livin' or--or dead?" she gasped. 

"Me--Oh, I'm alive, but that's about all. Hey? It's Emily, ain't it?Why--why, Emily, don't you know me?"

Miss Howes put the lamp down upon the table. Then she leaned heavilyupon a chair back. 

"Cousin Jedediah!" she exclaimed. "It can't be--it--Auntie--"

But Thankful interrupted. She turned to Georgie. 

"Is--is THIS your Santa Claus?" she faltered. 

"Yes'm, " answered Georgie. 

"Jedediah Cahoon!" cried Thankful. "Jedediah Cahoon!"

For Georgie's "Santa Claus" was her brother, the brother who had runaway from her home so long ago to seek his fortune in the Klondike;whose letter, written in San Francisco and posted in Omaha, had reachedher the month before; whom the police of several cities were looking forat her behest. 

"Auntie!" cried Emily again. 

Thankful shook her head. "Help me to a chair, Emily, " she begged weakly. "This--this is--my soul and body! Jedediah come alive again!"

The returned gold-hunter swallowed several times. 

"Thankful, " he faltered, "I know you must feel pretty hard agin me, but--but, you see--"

"Hush! hush! Don't speak to me for a minute. Let me get my bearin's, formercy sakes, if I can. . . . Jedediah--HERE!"

"Yes--yes, I'm here. I am, honest. I--"

"Sshh! You're here now, but--but where have you been all this time? Fora man that is, I presume likely, loaded down with money--I presume youmust be loaded down with it; you remember you'd said you'd never comeback until you was--for that kind of a man I must say you look prettydown at the heel. "

"Thankful--"

"Have you worn out your clothes luggin' the money around?"

"Auntie, don't. Look at him. Think!"

"Hush, Emily! I am lookin' at him and I'm thinkin', too. I'm thinkin'of how much I put up with afore he run off and left me, and how I'veworried and laid awake nights thinkin' he was dead. Where have you beenall this time? Why haven't you written?"

"I did write. "

"You wrote when you was without a cent and wanted to get money from me. You didn't write before. Let me be, Emily; you don't know what I've gonethrough on account of him and now he comes sneakin' into my house in themiddle of the night, without a word that he was comin', sneakin' in likea thief and frightenin' us half to death and--"

Jedediah interrupted. "Sneakin' in!" he repeated, with a desperate moveof his hands. "I had to sneak in. I was scairt to come in when youwas up and awake. I knew you'd be down on me like a thousand of brick. I--I--Oh, you don't know what I've been through, Thankful, or you'dpity me, 'stead of pitchin' into me like this. I've been a reg'lartramp--that's what I've been, a tramp. Freezin' and starvin' and workin'in bar-rooms! Why, I beat my way on a freight train all the way herefrom New Bedford, and I've been hidin' out back of the house waitin' foryou to go to bed, so's I'd dare come in. "

"So's you'd dare come in! What did you want to come in for if I wa'n'there?"

"I wanted to leave a note for you, that's why. I wanted to leave a noteand--and that. "

He pointed to the ring and the bit of tissue paper on the table. Thankful took up the paper first and read aloud what was written uponit. 

"For Thankful, with a larst merry Christmas from brother Jed. I am goingaway and if you want me I will be at New Bedford for two weeks, care thebark Finback. "

"'I am goin' away', " repeated Thankful. "Goin' away? Are you goin' awayAGAIN?"

"I--I was cal'latin' to. I'm goin' cook on a whaler. "

"Cook! You a cook! And, " she took up the ring and stared at it, "for theland sakes, what's this?"

"It's a present I bought for you. Took my last two dollar bill, it did. I wanted you to have somethin' to remember me by. "

Thankful held the gaudy ring at arm's length and stared at ithelplessly. There was a curious expression on her face, half-way betweenlaughing and crying. 

"You bought this--this thing for me, " she repeated. "And did you thinkI'd wear it. "

"I hoped you would. Oh, Thankful, if you only knew what I've beenthrough. Why, I was next door to starvin' when I got in here tonight. If I hadn't eat somethin' I found in the buttry I would have starved, Iguess. And I'm soaked, soppin' through and--"

"There, there. Hush! hush! Jedediah, you're gold-diggin' ain't changedyou much, I guess. You're just as helpless as ever you was. Well, you'rehere and I'm grateful for so much. Now you come with me out into thekitchen and we'll see what can be done about gettin' you dry. Emily, ifyou'll just put that child to bed. "

But Georgie had something to say. He had listened to this long dialoguewith astonishment and growing dismay. Now the dismay and conviction of agreat disappointment overcame him. 

"I don't want to go to bed, " he wailed. "Ain't he Santa Claus? He SAIDhe was Santa Claus. Where are my presents? Where's my air-gun? I want mypresents. Oh--Oh--Oh!"

He went out crying. Emily ran to him. 

"Hush, hush, Georgie, dear, " she begged. "Come upstairs withsister--come. If you don't you may be here when the real Santa comes andyou will frighten him away. Come with me; that's a good boy. Auntie, Iwill be down by and by. "

She led the disappointed and still sobbing boy from the room. Thankfulturned to her brother. 

"Now you march out into that kitchen, " she commanded. "I'll get you warmfirst and then I'll see about a bed for you. You'll have to sleep up onthe third floor tonight. After that I'll see about a better room to putyou in. "

Jedediah stared at her. 

"What--what, " he faltered. "Do you mean--Thankful, do you mean you'regoin' to let me stay here for--for good?"

"Yes, of course I do. You don't think I'll let you get out of my sightagain, do you? That is, unless you're real set on goin' gold-huntin'. I'm sure you shan't go cook on any whaler; I've got too much regard forsailors' digestions to let you do that. "

"Thankful, I--I'll work my hands off for you. I'll--"

"All right, all right. Now trot along and warm those hands or you won'thave any left to work off; they'll be SHOOK off with the shivers. Come, Jed, I forgive you; after all, you're my brother, though you did runaway and leave me. "

"Then--then you're glad I came back?"

"Glad!" Thankful shook her head with a tearful smile. "Glad!" sherepeated. "I've been workin' heavens and earth to get you back eversince I got that pitiful letter of yours. You poor thing! You MUST havehad a hard time of it. Well, you can tell me all about it by and by. Nowyou march into that kitchen. "

Another hour had passed before Mrs. Barnes reentered the living-room. There, to her astonishment, she found Emily awaiting her. 

"Why, for goodness sakes!" cried Thankful. "What are you doin' here? Ithought you'd gone to bed long ago. "

Emily's reply was given in an odd tone. She did not look at her cousinwhen she spoke. 

"No, no, " she said, quickly. "I--I haven't gone to bed. "

"I see you haven't, but why?"

"I didn't want to. I--I'm not sleepy. "

"Not sleepy! At two o'clock in the mornin'? Well, " with a sigh, "Isuppose 'tain't to be wondered at. What's happened this night is enoughto keep anybody awake. I can't believe it even yet. To think of hiscomin' back after I've given him up for dead twice over. It's like astory-book. "

"Where is he?"

"Up in bed, in one of the attic rooms. If he hasn't got his death ofcold it'll be a wonder. And SUCH yarns as he's been spinnin' to me. I--Emily, what's the matter with you? What makes you act so queer?"

Emily did not answer. Mrs. Barnes walked across the room and, stooping, peered into her face. 

"You're white as a sheet!" she cried, in alarm. "And you're tremblin'all over. What in the world IS the matter?"

Emily tried to smile, but it was a poor attempt. 

"Nothing, nothing, Auntie, " she said. "That is, I--I'm sure it can't beanything to be afraid of. "

"But you are afraid, just the same. What is it? Tell me this minute. "

For the first time Emily looked her cousin in the face. 

"Auntie, " she whispered, "I am--I have been frightened. Something Iheard upstairs frightened me. "

"Somethin' you heard upstairs? Where? Has Georgie--"

"No, Georgie is asleep in his room. I locked the door. It wasn'tGeorgie; it was something else. "

"Somethin'--Emily Howes, do you want to scare me to DEATH? What IS it?"

"I don't know what it is. I heard it first when I came out of Georgie'sroom a few minutes ago. Then I went down the hall to his door andlistened. Aunt Thankful, he--he is in there talking--talking tosomeone. "

"He? Talkin'? Who?"

"Mr. Cobb. It was dreadful. He was talking to--to--I don't know WHAT hewas talking to, but it was awful to hear. "

"Talkin'? Solomon Cobb was talkin'? In his sleep, do you mean?"

"No, he wasn't asleep. He was talking to someone, or some THING, in thatroom. And that wasn't all. I heard--I heard--Oh, I DID hear it! I know Idid! And yet it couldn't be! It couldn't!"

"Emily Howes, if you keep on I'll--WHAT did you hear?"

"I don't know. . . . Aunt Thankful, where are you going?"

Thankful did not answer. She was on her way to the front hall and thestairs. Emily rushed after her and would have detained her if she could, but Thankful would not be detained. Up the stairs they went together andalong the narrow dark hall. At the end of the hall was the door of theback bedroom, or the larger room adjoining it. The door was closed, but from beneath it shone lamplight in sharp, yellow streaks. And frombehind it came faintly the sound of a deep groan, the groan of a soul inagony. 

"He's sick, " whispered Thankful. "The man's sick. I'm goin' to him. "

"He isn't sick. It--it's something else. I tell you I heard--"

Thankful did not wait to learn what her cousin had heard. She tiptoeddown the hall and Emily followed. The two women crouched besidethe closed door of Mr. Cobb's room. And within that room they heardSolomon's voice, now rising almost to a shriek, now sinking to a groan, as its owner raved on and on, talking, pleading, praying. 

"Oh, don't--don't, Abner!" cried Mr. Cobb. "Don't, no more! PLEASEdon't! I know what you mean. I know it all. I'm sorry. I know I ain'tdone right. But I'll MAKE it right; I swear to the Almighty I will! Iknow I've broke my word to you and acted wicked and mean, but I give youmy solemn word I'll make everything right. Only just quit and go away, that's all I ask. Just quit that--Oh, there you GO again! QUIT! PLEASEquit!"

It was dreadful to hear, but this was not the most dreadful. Between theagonized sentences and whenever the wind lulled, the listeners at thedoor heard another sound, a long-drawn gasp and groan, a series of gaspsand groans, as of something fighting for breath, the unmistakable soundof snoring. 

Emily grasped her cousin's arm. "Come, come away!" she whispered. "I--Ibelieve I'm going to faint. "

Mrs. Barnes did not wait to be urged. She put her arm about the younglady's waist and together they tiptoed back to Thankful's bedroom. There, Mrs. Barnes's first move was to light the lamp, the second toclose and lock the door. Then the pair sat down, one upon the bed andthe other on a chair, and gazed into each other's pale faces. 

Emily was the first to speak. 

"I--I don't believe it!" she declared, shakily. "I KNOW it isn't real!"

"So--so do I. "

"But--but we heard it. We both heard it. "

"Well--well, I give in I--I heard somethin', somethin' that. . . . Mysoul! Am I goin' CRAZY to finish off this night with?"

"I don't know. If you are, then I must be going with you. What can itbe, Auntie?"

"I don't know. "

"There is no other door to that room, is there?"

"No. "

"Then what CAN it be?"

"I don't know. Imogene's in her own room; I looked in and saw her whenI took Jedediah up attic. And Georgie's in his with the door locked. And you and I are here. There can't be a livin' soul in that room withSolomon, not a livin' soul. "

"But we heard--we both heard--"

"I know; I know. And I heard somethin' there before. And so did MissTimpson. Emily, did--did you hear him call--call it 'Abner'?"

"Yes, " with a shudder. "I heard. Who could help hearing!"

"And Cap'n Abner was my uncle; and he used to live here. . . . There!"with sudden determination. "That's enough of this. We'll both be stark, ravin' distracted if we keep on this way. My soul! Hear that wind! Isaid once that all the big things in my life had happened durin' a stormand so they have. Jedediah went away in a storm and he's come back ina storm. And now if UNCLE ABNER'S comin' back. . . . There I go again!Emily, do you feel like goin' to bed?"

"To BED! After THAT? Auntie, how can you!"

"All right, then we'll set up till mornin'. Turn that lamp as high asyou can and we'll set by it and wait for daylight. By that time we mayhave some of our sense back again and not behave like two feeble-mindedfools. Turn that wick up--WAY up, Emily Howes! And talk--talk just ashard as you can--about somethin' or somebody that's ALIVE. "

CHAPTER XVI

Emily obeyed orders as far as turning up the wick was concerned, and shedid her best to talk. It was hard work; both she and her cousin foundthemselves breaking off a sentence in the middle to listen and drawcloser together as the wild gusts whistled about the windows and thewater poured from the sashes and gurgled upon the sills. OccasionallyThankful went to the door to look down the dark hall in the directionof Mr. Cobb's room, or to unlock Georgie's door and peer in to make surethat the boy was safe and sleeping. 

From the third of these excursions Mrs. Barnes returned with a bit ofreassuring news. 

"I went almost there this time, " she whispered. "My conscience has beentormenting me to think of--of Solomon's bein' alone in there with--withTHAT, and I almost made up my mind to sing out and ask if he was allright. But I didn't have to, thank goodness. His light's still lit and Iheard him movin' around, so he ain't been scared clean to death, at anyrate. For the rest of it I don't care so much; a good hard scarin' maydo him good. He needs one. If ever a stingy old reprobate needed to havea warnin' from the hereafter that man does. "

"Did you hear anything--anything else?" whispered Emily, fearfully. 

"No, I didn't, and I didn't wait for fear I MIGHT hear it. Did I lockthe door when I came in? Emily, I guess you think I'm the silliest oldcoward that ever was. I am--and I know it. Tomorrow we'll both be braveenough, and we'll both KNOW there ain't any spirits here, or anywhereelse this side of the grave; but tonight--well, tonight's different. . . . Ouch! what was that? There, there! don't mind my jumpin'. I feelas if I'd been stuffed with springs, like a sofa. Did you ever know anight as long as this? Won't mornin' EVER come?"

At five o'clock, while it was still pitch dark, Thankful announced herintention of going downstairs. "Might as well be in the kitchen as uphere, " she said, "and I can keep busy till Imogene comes down. And, besides, we'd better be puttin' Georgie's stockin' and his presents inthe livin'-room. The poor little shaver's got to have his Christmas, even though his Santa Claus did turn out to be a walkin' rag-bag. "

Emily started. "Why, it is Christmas, isn't it!" she exclaimed. "Between returned brothers and, " with a little shiver, "ghosts, I forgotentirely. "

She kissed her cousin's cheek. 

"A merry Christmas, Aunt Thankful, " she said. 

Thankful returned the kiss. "Same to you, dearie, and many of 'em, " shereplied. "Well, here's another Christmas day come to me. A year ago Ididn't think I'd be here. I wonder where I'll be next Christmas. WillI have a home of my own or will what I've thought was my home belong toSol Cobb or Holliday Kendrick?"

"Hush, Auntie, hush! Your home won't be taken from you. It would be toomean, too dreadful! God won't permit such a thing. "

"I sartin' hope he won't, but it seems sometimes as if he permitted somemighty mean things, 'cordin' to our way of lookin' at 'em. That light'sstill burnin', " she added, peering out into the hall. "Well, I suppose Iought to pity Solomon, but I don't when I think how he's treated me. If the ghost--or whatever 'tis in there--weeded out the rest of hiswhiskers for him I don't know's I'd care. 'Twould serve him right, Iguess. "

They rehung Georgie's stocking--bulging and knobby it was now--andarranged his more bulky presents beneath it on the floor. Then Thankfulwent into the kitchen and Emily accompanied her. The morning broke, pale and gray. The wind had subsided and it no longer rained. With thereturning daylight Emily's courage began to revive. 

"I can't understand, " she said, "how you and I could have been sochildish last night. We should have insisted on calling to Mr. Cobb andthen we should have found out what it was that frightened him and us. Imean to go over every inch of those two rooms before dinner time. "

Thankful nodded. "I'll do it with you, " she said. "But I've been over'em so many times that I'm pretty skeptical. The time to go over 'em isin the night when that--that snorin' is goin' on. A ghost that snoresought, by rights, to be one that's asleep, and a sound-asleep ghostought to be easy to locate. Oh, yes! I can make fun NOW. I told you Iwas as brave as a lion--in the daytime. "

It was easy to talk now, and they drifted into a discussion of manythings. Thankful retold the story of her struggle to keep the High CliffHouse afloat, told it all, her hopes, her fears and her discouragements. They spoke of Captain Bangs, of his advice and help and friendship. Emily brought the captain into the conversation and kept him there. Thankful said little concerning him, and of the one surprising, intimateinterview between Captain Obed and herself she said not a word. Sheit was who first mentioned John Kendrick's name. Emily was at firstdisinclined to speak of the young lawyer, but, little by little, as hercousin hinted and questioned, she said more and more. Thankful learnedwhat she wished to learn, and it was what she had suspected. She learnedsomething else, too, something which concerned another citizen of EastWellmouth. 

"I knew it!" she cried. "I didn't believe 'twas so, and I as much astold Cap'n Obed 'twasn't this very day--no, yesterday, I mean. When abody don't go to bed at all the days kind of run into one another. "

"What did you know?" asked Emily. "What were you and Captain Obedtalking of that concerned me?"

"Nothin', nothin', dear. It didn't concern you one bit, and 'twasn'timportant. . . . Hi hum!" rising and looking out of the window. "It's gettin' brighter fast now. Looks as if we might have a pleasantChristmas, after all. Wonder how poor Jedediah'll feel when he wakes up. I hope he slept warm anyhow. I piled on comforters and quilts enough tosmother him. "

Her attempt at changing the subject was successful. Emily's nextquestion concerned Jedediah. 

"What are you goin' to do with him, Auntie?" she asked. "He must stayhere, mustn't he?"

"Course he must. I'll never trust him out of my sight again. He ain'tcompetent to take care of himself and so I'll have to take care of him. Well, " with a sigh, "it'll only be natural, that's all. I've been usedto takin' care of somebody all my days. I wonder how 'twould seem tohave somebody take care of me for a change? Not that there's liable tobe anybody doin' it, " she added hastily. 

"Jedediah might be useful to work about the place here, " said Emily. "You will always need a hired man, you know. "

"Yes, but I don't need two, and I couldn't discharge Kenelm on Imogene'saccount. What that girl ever got engaged to that old image for is more'nI can make out or ever shall. "

Emily smiled. "I shouldn't worry about Imogene, " she said. "I think sheknows perfectly well what she is about. "

"Maybe so, but if she does, then her kind of knowledge is different frommine. If I was goin' to marry anybody in that family 'twould be Hannah;she's the most man of the two. "

Imogene herself came down a few minutes later. She was much surprisedto find her mistress and Miss Howes dressed and in the kitchen. Also shewas very curious. 

"Who's that man, " she asked; "the one in the next room to mine, upattic? Is he a new boarder? He must have come awful late. I heard youand him talkin' in the middle of the night. Who is he?"

When told the story of Jedediah's return she was greatly excited. 

"Why, it's just like somethin' in a story!" she cried. "Long-lost folksare always comin' back in stories. And comin' Christmas Eve makes it allthe better. Lordy--There, I ain't said that for weeks and weeks! Excuseme, Mrs. Thankful. I WON'T say it again. But--but what are we goin' todo with him? Is he goin' to stay here for good?"

Thankful answered that she supposed he was, he had no other place tostay. 

"Is he rich? He ought to be. Folks in stories always come home richafter they've run off. "

"Well, this one didn't. He missed connections, somehow. Rich! No, "drily, "he ain't rich. "

"Well, what will he do? Will we have to take care of him--free, I mean?Excuse me for buttin' in, ma'am, but it does seem as if we had enough onour hands without takin' another free boarder. "

Thankful went into the dining-room. Emily, when the question wasrepeated to her, suggested that, possibly, Jedediah might work aboutthe place, take care of the live-stock and of the garden, when there wasone. 

Imogene reflected. "Hum!" she mused. "We don't need two hired hands, that's a sure thing. You mean he'll take Kenelm's job?"

"That isn't settled, so you mustn't speak of it. I know my cousin willbe very sorry to let Kenelm go, largely on your account, Imogene. "

"On my account?"

"Why, yes. You and he are engaged to be married and of course you liketo have him here. "

Imogene burst out laughing. "Don't you worry about that, Miss Emily, "she said. "I shan't, and I don't think Kenelm will, either. "

Breakfast was ready at last and they were just sitting down to thetable--it had been decided not to call Jedediah or Mr. Cobb--whenGeorgie appeared. The boy had crept downstairs, his small head filledwith forebodings; but the sight of the knobby stocking and the heap ofpresents sent his fears flying and he burst into the room with ashriek of joy. One by one the packages were unwrapped and, with eachunwrapping, the youngster's excitement rose. 

"Gee!" he cried, as he sat in the middle of the heap of toys andbrown paper and looked about him. "Gee! They're all here; everything Iwanted--but that air-gun. I don't care, though. Maybe I'll get that nextChristmas. Or maybe Cap'n Bangs'll give it to me, anyhow. He gives memost anything, if I tease for it. "

Thankful shook her head. "You see, Georgie, " she said, "it pays to bea good boy. If Santa had caught you hidin' under that sofa and watchin'for him last night you might not have got any of these nice things. "

Georgie did not answer immediately. When he did it was in a ratherdoubtful tone. 

"There ain't any soot on 'em, anyhow, " he observed. "And they ain't wet, either. "

Imogene clapped her hand to her mouth and hurried from the room. "Youcan't fool that kid much, " she whispered to Emily afterward. "He's thesmartest kid ever I saw. I'll keep out of his way for a while; I don'twant to have to answer his questions. "

There were other presents besides those given to Georgie; presents forEmily from Thankful, and for Thankful from Emily, and for Imogene fromboth. There was nothing costly, of course, but no one cared for that. 

As they were beginning breakfast Jedediah appeared. His garments, whichhad been drying by the kitchen stove all night and which Imogene haddeposited in a heap at his bedroom door, were wrinkled, but his faceshone from the vigorous application of soap and water and, as his sistersaid afterward, "You could see his complexion without diggin' for it, and that was somethin'. "

His manner was subdued and he was very, very polite and anxious toplease, but his appetite was in good order. Introduced to Imogene heexpressed himself as pleased to meet her. Georgie he greeted with somehesitation; evidently the memory of his midnight encounter with the boyembarrassed him. But Georgie, when he learned that the shabby personwhom he was told to call "Uncle Jed" was, although only an imitationSanta Claus, a genuine gold-hunter and traveler who had seen realEsquimaux and polar bears, warmed to his new relative immediately. 

When the meal was over Jedediah made what was, for him, an amazingsuggestion. 

"Now, " he said, "I cal'late I'd better be gettin' to work, hadn't I?What'll I do first, Thankful?"

Mrs. Barnes stared at him. "Work?" she repeated. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I want to be doin' somethin'--somethin' to help, you know. Idon't cal'late to stay around here and loaf. No, SIR!"

Thankful drew a long breath. "All right, Jed, " she said. "You can goout in the barn and feed the horse if you want to. Kenelm--Mr. Parker--generally does it, but he probably won't be here for quite aspell yet. Go ahead. Imogene'll show you what to do. . . . But, say, hold on, " she added, with emphasis. "Don't you go off the premises, andif you see anybody comin', keep out of sight. I don't want anybody tosee a brother of mine in THOSE clothes. Soon's ever I can I'll go upto the village and buy you somethin' to wear, if it's only an 'ilskinjacket and a pair of overalls. They'll cover up the rags, anyhow. Asyou are now, you look like one of Georgie's picture-puzzles partly puttogether. "

When the eager applicant for employment had gone, under Imogene'sguidance, Emily spoke her mind. 

"Auntie, " she said, "are you going to make him work--now; after whathe's been through, and on Christmas day, too?"

Thankful was still staring after her brother. 

"Sshh! sshh!" she commanded. "Don't speak to me for a minute; you maywake me up. Jedediah Cahoon ASKIN' to go to work! All the miracles inScriptur' are nothin' to this. "

"But, Auntie, he did ask. And do you think he is strong enough?"

"Hush, Emily, hush! You don't know Jedediah. Strong enough! I'm the onethat needs strength, if I'm goin' to have shocks like this one sprung onme. "

Emily said no more, but she noticed that her cousin was wearing thetwo-dollar ring, the wanderer's "farewell" gift, so she judged thatbrother Jed would not be worked beyond the bounds of moderation. 

Left alone in the dining-room--Georgie had returned to the living-roomand his presents--the two women looked at each other. Neither had eatena breakfast worth mentioning and the same thought was in the mind ofeach. 

"Auntie, " whispered Emily, voicing that thought, "don't you think weought to go up and--and see if he is--all right. "

Thankful nodded. "Yes, " she said, "I suppose we had. He's alive, I knowthat much, for I had Imogene knock on his door just now and he answered. But I guess maybe we'd better--"

She did not finish the sentence for at that moment the subject of theconversation entered the room. It was Solomon Cobb who entered, but, except for his clothes, he was a changed man. His truculent arrogancewas gone, he came in slowly and almost as if he were walking in hissleep. His collar was unbuttoned, his hair had not been combed, and theface between the thin bunches of whiskers was white and drawn. He didnot speak to either Emily or Thankful, but, dragging one foot after theother, crossed the room and sat down in a chair by the window. 

Thankful spoke to him. 

"Are you sick, Solomon?" she asked. 

Mr. Cobb shook his head. 

"Eh?" he grunted. "No, no, I ain't sick. I guess I ain't; I don't know. "

"Breakfast is all ready, Mr. Cobb, " suggested Emily. 

Solomon turned a weary eye in her direction. He looked old, very old. 

"Breakfast!" he repeated feebly. "Don't talk about breakfast to me! I'llnever eat again in this world. "

Thankful pitied him; she could not help it. 

"Oh, yes, you will, " she said, heartily. "Just try one of those clamfritters of Imogene's and you'll eat a whole lot. If you don't you'll bethe first one. "

He shook his head. "Thankful, " he said, slowly, "I--I want to talk toyou. I've got to talk to you--alone. "

"Alone! Why, Emily's just the same as one of the family. There's nosecrets between us, Solomon. "

"I don't care. I wan't to talk to you. It's you I've got to talk to. "

Thankful would have protested once more, but Emily put a hand on herarm. 

"I'll go into the living-room with Georgie, Auntie, " she whispered. "Yes, I shall. "

She went and closed the door behind her. Thankful sat down in a chair, wondering what was coming next. Solomon did not look at her, but, aftera moment, he spoke. 

"Thankful Cahoon, " he said, calling her by her maiden name. "I--I'vebeen a bad man. I'm goin' to hell. "

Thankful jumped. "Mercy on us!" she cried. "What kind of talk--"

"I'm goin' to hell, " repeated Solomon. "When a man does the way I'vedone that's where he goes. I'm goin there and I'm goin' pretty soon. I've had my notice. "

Thankful stood up. She was convinced that her visitor had been drivencrazy by his experience in the back bedroom. 

"Now, now, now, " she faltered. "Don't talk so wicked, Solomon Cobb. You've been a church man for years, and a professor of religion. Youtold me so, yourself. How can you set there and say--"

Mr. Cobb waved his hand. 

"Don't make no difference, " he moaned. "Or, if it does, it only makes itworse. I know where I'm goin', but--but I'll go with a clean manifest, anyhow. I'll tell you the whole thing. I promised the dead I would andI will. Thankful Cahoon, I've been a bad man to you. I swore my solemnoath as a Christian to one that was my best friend, and I broke it. 

"Years ago I swore by all that was good and great I'd look out for youand see that you was comf'table and happy long's you lived. And insteadof that, when I come here last night--LED here, I know now that Iwas--my mind was about made up to take your home away from you, if Icould. Yes, sir, I was cal'latin' to foreclose on you and sell thisplace to Kendrick. I thought I was mighty smart and was doin' a goodstroke of business. No mortal man could have made me think diff'rent;BUT AN IMMORTAL ONE DID!"

He groaned and wiped his forehead. Thankful did not speak; her surpriseand curiosity were too great for speech. 

"'Twas your Uncle Abner Barnes, " went on Solomon, "that was the makin'of me. I sailed fust mate for him fourteen year. And he always treatedme fine, raised my wages right along, and the like of that. 'Twas himthat put me in the way of investin' my money in them sugar stocks andthe rest. He made me rich, or headed me that way. And when he lost allhe had except this place here and was dyin' aboard the old schooner, hecalls me to him and he says:

"'Sol, ' he says, 'Sol, I've done consider'ble for you, and you've saidyou was grateful. Well, I'm goin' to ask a favor of you. I ain't got acent of my own left, and my niece by marriage, Thankful Cahoon that was, that I love same as if she was my own child, may, sometime or other, be pretty hard put to it to get along. I want you to look after her. Ifever the time comes that she needs money or help I want you to do forher what I'd do if I was here. If you don't, ' he says, risin' on oneelbow in the bunk, 'I'll come back and ha'nt you. Promise on your solemnoath. ' And I promised. And you know how I've kept that promise. And lastnight he come back. Yes, sir, he come back!"

Still Thankful said nothing. He groaned again and went on:

"Last night, " he said, "up in that bedroom, I woke up and, as sure asI'm settin' here this minute, I heard Cap'n Abner Barnes snorin' justas he snored afore his death aboard the schooner, T. I. Smalley, in thestateroom next to mine. I knew it in a minute, but I got up and went allround my room and the empty one alongside. There was nothin' there, ofcourse. Nothin' but the snorin'. And I got down on my knees and swore toset things right this very day. Give me a pen and ink and some paper. "

"Eh? What?"

"Give me a pen and some ink and paper. Don't sit there starin'! Hurryup! Can't you see I want to get this thing off my chest afore I die!And--and I--I wouldn't be surprised if I died any minute. Hurry UP!"

Thankful went into the living-room in search of the writing materials. Emily, who was sitting on the floor with Georgie and the presents, turned to ask a question. 

"What is it, Auntie?" she whispered, eagerly. "Is it anythingimportant?"

Her cousin made an excited gesture. 

"I--I don't know, " she whispered in reply. "Either he's been drivenlooney by what happened last night, or else--or else somethin's goin' tohappen that I don't dast to believe. Emily, you stand right here by thedoor. I may want you. "

"Where's that pen and things?" queried Solomon from the next room. "Ain't you ever comin'?"

When the writing materials were brought and placed upon the dining-roomtable he drew his chair to that table and scrawled a few lines. 

"Somebody ought to witness this, " he cried, nervously. "Somedisinterested person ought to witness this. Then 'twill hold in law. Where's that--that Howes girl? Oh, here you be! Here! you sign that as awitness. "

Emily, who had entered at the mention of her name, took the paper fromhis trembling fingers. She read what was written upon it. 

"Why--why, Auntie!" she cried, excitedly. "Aunt Thankful, have you seenthis? He--"

"Stop your talk!" shouted Solomon. "Can't you women do nothin' BUT talk?Sign your name alongside of mine as a witness. "

Emily took the pen and signed as directed. Mr. Cobb snatched the paperfrom her, glanced at it and then handed it to Thankful. 

"There!" he cried. "That's done, anyhow. I've done so much. Now--nowdon't say a word to me for a spell. I--I'm all in; that's what I am, allin. "

Thankful did not say a word; she couldn't have said it at that moment. Upon the paper which she held in her hand was written a cancellation ofthe fifteen-hundred-dollar mortgage and a receipt in full for the loanitself, signed by Solomon Cobb. 

Dimly and uncomprehendingly she heard Emily trying to thank theirvisitor. But thanks he would not listen to. 

"No, no, no!" he shouted. "Go away and let me alone. I'm a wicked, condemned critter. Nobody's ever cared a durn for me, nobody but one, and I broke my word to him. Friendless I've lived since Abner went andfriendless I'll die. Serve me right. I ain't got a livin' soul of my ownblood in the world. "

But Thankful was in a measure herself again. 

"Don't talk so, Solomon, " she cried. "You have got somebody of your ownblood. I'm a relation of yours, even if 'tis a far-off relation. I--Idon't know how to thank you for this. I--"

He interrupted again. 

"Yes, " he wailed, "you're my relation. I know it. Think that makes itany better? Look how I've treated you. No, no; I'm goin' to die andgo--"

"You're goin' to have breakfast, that's what you're goin' to have. Andit shan't be warmed up fried clams either. Emily, you stay with him. I'mgoin' to the kitchen. "

She fled to the kitchen, where, between fits of crying and laughing, which would have alarmed Imogene had she been there, she tried toprepare a breakfast which might tempt the repentant money-lender. Emilyjoined her after a short interval. 

"He won't listen to anything, " said the young lady. "He has beenfrightened almost to death, that's certain. He is praying now. I cameaway and left him praying. Oh, Auntie, isn't it wonderful! Isn't itsplendid!"

Thankful sighed. "It's so wonderful I can scarcely believe it, " shesaid. "To think of his givin' up money--givin' it away of his ownaccord! I said last night that Jedediah's comin' home was a miracle. This one beats that all to pieces. I don't know what to do about takin'that thousand from him, " she added. "I declare I don't. 'Course I shan'ttake it in the long run; I'll pay it back soon as ever I can. But shouldI pretend to take it now? That's what troubles me. "

"Of course you should. He is rich and he doesn't need it. What have youdone with that receipt? Put it away somewhere and in a safe place. Heis frightened; that--that something, whatever it was, lastnight--frightened him so that he will give away anything now. But, byand by, when his fright is over he may change his mind. Lock up thatpaper, Aunt Thankful. If you don't, I will. "

"But what was it that frightened him, Emily? I declare I'm gettin'afraid to stay in this house myself. What was it he heard--and weheard?"

"I don't know, but I mean to find out. I'm a sensible person thismorning, not an idiot, and I intend to lay that ghost. "

When they went back into the dining-room they were surprised at whatthey saw. Solomon was still sitting by the window, but Georgie wassitting in a chair beside him, exhibiting the pictures in one ofhis Christmas books and apparently on the best of terms with his newacquaintance. 

"I'm showin' him my 'Swiss Family Robinson, '" said the boy. "Here'swhere they built a house in a tree, Mr. Cobb. Emmie told me about theirdoin' it. "

Solomon groaned. 

"You better take this child away from me, " he said. "He came to me ofhis own accord, but he hadn't ought to stay. A man like me ain't fit tohave children around him. "

Thankful had an inspiration. 

"It's a sign, " she cried, clapping her hands. "It's a sign sent to you, Solomon. It means you're forgiven. That's what it means. Now you eatyour breakfast. "

He was eating, or trying to eat, when someone knocked at the door. Winnie S. Holt was standing on the step. 

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Barnes, " he hailed. "Ain't drowned out after thegale, be you? Judas priest! Our place is afloat. Dad says he cal'lateswe'll have to build a raft to get to the henhouse on. Here; here'ssomethin' Mr. Kendrick sent to you. Wanted me to give it to you, yourself, and nobody else. "

The something was a long envelope with "Mrs. Barnes, Personal, " writtenupon it. Thankful read the inscription. 

"From Mr. Kendrick?" she repeated. "Which Mr. Kendrick?"

"Mr. John, the young one. Mr. Holliday's comin', though. He telephonedfrom Bayport this mornin'. Came down on the cars far's there last night, but he didn't dast to come no further 'count of bein' afraid to drivefrom the Centre in the storm. He's hired an automobile and is comin'right over, he says. The message was for John Kendrick, but Dad took it. What's in the envelope, Mrs. Barnes?"

Thankful slowly tore the end from the envelope. Emily stood at herelbow. 

"What can it be, Auntie?" she asked, fearfully. 

"I don't know. I'm afraid to look. Oh, dear! It's somethin' bad, I know. Somethin' to do with that Holliday Kendrick; it must be or he wouldn'thave come to East Wellmouth today. I--I--well, I must look, of course. Oh, Emily, and we thought this was goin' to be a merry Christmas, afterall. "

The enclosure was a long, legal-looking document. Thankful unfolded it, read a few lines and then stopped reading. 

"Why--why--" she stammered. 

"What is it, Auntie?" pleaded Emily. 

"It--I can't make out. I MUST be crazy, or--or somebody is. It lookslike--Read it, Emily; read it out loud. "

CHAPTER XVII

Captain Obed Bangs rose at his usual hour that Christmas morning, andthe hour was an early one. When he looked from his bedroom window theclouds were breaking and a glance at his barometer, hung on the walljust beside that window, showed the glass to be rising and confirmedthe promise of a fair day. He dressed and came downstairs. Hannah Parkercame down soon afterward. The captain wished her a merry Christmas. 

Miss Parker shook her head; she seemed to be in a pessimistic mood. 

"I'm much obliged to you, Cap'n Bangs, " she said, "and I'm sure I wishyou the same. But I don't know; don't seem as if I was liable to havemany more merry Christmases in this life. No, merry Christmases ain'tfor me. I'm a second fiddle nowadays and I cal'late that's what I'mforeordinated to be from now on. "

The captain didn't understand. 

"Second fiddle, " he repeated. "What have you got to do with fiddlin', for goodness' sakes?"

"Nothin', of course. I don't mean a real fiddle. I mean I shan't neverbe my own mistress any more. I've been layin' awake thinkin' about itand shiverin', 'twas so damp and chilly up in my room. There's a looseshingle right over a knot hole that's abreast a crack in my bedroomwall, and it lets in the dampness like a sieve. I've asked Kenelm to fixit MORE times; but no, all he cares to do is look out for himself andthat inmate. If SHE had a loose shingle he'd fix it quick enough. AllI could do this mornin' was lay to bed there and shiver and pull up thequilt and think and think. It kept comin' over me more and more. "

"The quilt, you mean? That's what you wanted it to do, wasn't it?"

"Not the quilt. The thought of the lonesome old age that's comin' to mewhen Kenelm's married. I've had him to look after for so long. I've beenmy own boss, as they say. "

She might have added, "And Kenelm's, too, " but Captain Obed added it forher, in his mind. He laughed. 

"That's all right, Hannah, " he observed, by way of consolation. "Kenelmain't married yet. When he is you can help his wife look out for him. Either that or get married. Why don't you get married, Hannah?"

"Humph! Don't be silly, Obed Bangs. "

"That ain't silliness, that's sense. All you need to do is just h'istthe signal, 'Consort wanted, ' and you'd have one alongside in no time. There's Caleb Hammond, for instance; he's a widower and--eh! look out!"

Miss Parker had dropped the plate she was just putting down upon thetable. Fortunately it fell only a few inches and did not break. 

"What do you mean by that?" she demanded sharply. 

"I meant the plate. Little more and you'd have sent it to glory. "

"Never you mind the plate. I can look out for my own crockery. 'Twascracked anyhow. And I guess you're cracked, too, " she added. "Talkin'about my--my marryin' Caleb Hammond. What put that in your head?"

"I don't know. I just--"

"Well, don't be silly. When I marry Caleb Hammond, " she added withemphasis, "'twill be after THIS. "

"So I cal'lated. I didn't think you'd married him afore this. There now, you missed a chance, Hannah. You and he ought to have got married thattime when you went away together. "

Miss Parker turned pale. "When we went--away--TOGETHER!" she faltered. "WHAT are you talkin' about?"

"When you went over to the Cattle Show that time. "

"Is that what you meant?"

"Sartin. What are you glarin' at me that way for? You ain't been awaytogether any other time, have you? No, Hannah, that was your chance. Youand Caleb might have been married in the balloon, like the couples weread about in the papers. Ho! ho! Think of the advertisin' you'd havehad! 'A high church weddin'. ' 'Bride and groom up in the air. ' Can't yousee those headlines?"

Hannah appeared more relieved than annoyed. 

"Humph!" she sniffed. "Well, I should say YOU was up in the air, ObedBangs. What's the matter with you this mornin'? Has the rain soaked intoyour head? It seems to be softenin' up pretty fast. If you're so set onsomebody gettin' married why don't you get married yourself? You've beenwhat the minister calls 'unattackted' all your life. "

The minister had said "unattached, " but Captain Obed did not offerto correct the quotation. He joked no more and, during breakfast, wassilent and absent-minded. 

After breakfast he went out for a walk. The storm had gullied the hillsand flooded the hollows. There were pools of water everywhere, shiningcold and steely in the winter sunshine. The captain remembered the lowground in which the barn and outbuildings upon the "Cap'n Abner place"stood, and judged that he and Kenelm might have to do some rescue workamong the poultry later on. He went back to the house to suggest thatwork to Mr. Parker himself. 

Kenelm and his sister were evidently in the midst of a dispute. Theformer was seated at the breakfast table and Hannah was standing by thekitchen door looking at him. 

"Goin' off to work Christmas Day!" she said, as the captain entered. "Ishould think you might stay home with me THAT day, if no other. 'Tain'tthe work you're so anxious to get to. It's that precious inmate ofyours. "

Kenelm's answer was as surprising as it was emphatic. 

"Darn the inmate!" he shouted. "I wish to thunder I'd never seen her!"

Captain Obed whistled. Miss Parker staggered, but she recoveredpromptly. 

"Oh, " she said, "that's how you feel, is it? Well, if I felt that waytoward anybody I don't think I'd be plannin' to marry 'em. "

"Ugh! What's the use of talkin' rubbish? I've GOT to marry her, ain'tI? She's got that paper I was fool enough to sign. Oh, let me alone, Hannah! I won't go over there till I have to. I'd ruther stay to homeenough sight. "

Hannah put her arms about his neck. "There, there, Kenelm, dearie, " shesaid soothingly, "you eat your breakfast like a nice brother. I'LL begood to you, if nobody else ain't. And I didn't have to sign any paperafore I'd do it either. "

Kenelm grunted ungraciously. 

"'Twas your fault, anyhow, " he muttered. "If you hadn't bossed me anddriven me into workin' for Thankful Barnes 'twouldn't have happened. Iwouldn't have thought of gettin' engaged to be married. "

"Never mind, dearie. You ain't married yet. Perhaps you won't be. And, anyhow, you know I'LL never boss you any more. "

Kenelm looked at her. There was an odd expression in his eyes. 

"You bet you won't!" he said, slowly. "I'll see to that. "

"Why, Kenelm, what do you mean?"

"I don't mean nothin'--maybe. Give me some more coffee. "

Captain Obed decided that the present was not the time to suggest a tripto the High Cliff House. He went out again, to walk along the path andthink over what he had just heard. It was interesting, as showing theattitude of one of the contracting parties toward the "engagement, " theannouncement of which had been such a staggering finish to the "big day"of the County Fair. 

Winnie S. Came whistling up the path from the village. 

"Hi, Cap'n Bangs!" he shouted. "I was just goin' to stop at Hannah's totell you somethin'. "

"You was, eh?"

"Yup. Then I was goin' on to the High Cliff. I've got somethin' to taketo Mrs. Thankful. What do you suppose 'tis?"

He exhibited the long envelope. 

"John Kendrick sent it to her, " he said. "I don't know what's in it. Andhe wants you to come to his office right off, Cap'n Obed. That's whatI was goin' to tell you. He says not to wait till afternoon, same as hesaid, but to come now. It's important, he says. "

John was seated at the desk in his office when the captain opened thedoor. He bowed gravely. 

"Take off your hat and coat, Captain, " he said. "Sit down. I'm glad yougot my message and came early. I am expecting the other party at anymoment. "

Captain Obed was puzzled. 

"The other party?" he repeated. "What other party?"

"My--er--well, we'll call him my client. He is on his way here and I mayneed you--as a witness. "

"Witness? What to?"

"You will see. Now, Captain, if you'll excuse me, I have some papersto arrange. Make yourself as comfortable as you can. I'm sure you won'thave to wait long. "

Fifteen minutes later the rasping, arrogant "honk" of a motor horn camefrom the road outside. Heavy, important steps sounded upon the officeplatform. The door opened and in came Mr. E. Holliday Kendnick. 

Captain Obed had known of the great man's expected arrival, but hehad not expected it so early in the day. E. Holliday wore a luxuriousfur-lined coat and looked as prosperous and important as ever, butalso--so it seemed to the captain--he looked disturbed and puzzled andangry. 

The captain rose to his feet and said, "Good morning, " but except fora nod of recognition, his greeting was unanswered. Mr. Kendrick slammedthe door behind him, stalked across the office, took a letter from hispocket and threw it down upon his attorney's desk. 

"What's the meaning of that?" he demanded. 

John was perfectly calm. "Sit down, Mr. Kendrick, " he said. 

"No, I won't sit down. What the devil do you mean by sending me thatthing? You expected me, didn't you? You got my wire saying I wascoming. "

"Yes, I got it. Sit down. I have a good deal to say and it may take sometime. Throw off your coat. "

E. Holliday threw the fur coat open, but he did not remove it. He jerkeda chair forward and seated himself upon it. 

"Now what does that thing mean?" he demanded, pointing to the envelopehe had tossed on the desk. 

John picked up the envelope and opened it. A letter and a bank checkfell out. 

"I will explain, " he said quietly. "Mr. Kendrick, you know Captain ObedBangs, I think. Oh, it is all right. The captain is here at my request. I asked him to be here. I wanted a reliable witness and he is reliable. This, " he went on, taking up the letter, "is a note I wrote you, Mr. Kendrick. It states that I am resigning my position as your attorney. And this, " picking up the other paper, "is my check for five hundreddollars, the amount of your retainer, which I am returning to you. . . . You understand this so far, Captain?"

E. Holliday did not wait to hear whether the captain understood or not. His big face flamed red. 

"But what the devil?" he demanded. 

John held up his hand. 

"One moment, please, " he said. "Captain Bangs, I want to explain a fewthings. As you know, I have been acting as Mr. Kendrick's attorney inthe matter of the property occupied by Mrs. Barnes. He wished me to finda means of forcing her to sell that property to him. Now, when a personowning property does not wish to sell, that person cannot be forced intogiving up the property unless it is discovered that the property doesn'tbelong to that particular person. That's plain, isn't it?"

He was speaking to Captain Obed, and the captain answered. 

"But it does belong to her, " he declared. "Her Uncle Abner Barnes willedit to her. Course it belongs to her!"

"I know. But sometimes there are such things as flaws in a title. Thatis to say, somewhere and at some time there has been a transfer of thatproperty that was illegal. In such a case the property belongs to theprevious holder, no matter in how many instances it has changed handssince. In the present case it was perfectly plain that Mrs. Barnesthought she owned that land, having inherited it from her uncle. Therefore she could not be forced to sell unless it was discovered thatthere was a flaw in the title--that she did not own it legally at all. Itold my client--Mr. Kendrick, here--that, and he ordered me to have thetitle searched or to search it myself. I have spent a good deal oftime at the recorder's office in Ostable doing that very thing. And Idiscovered that there was such a flaw; that Mrs. Barnes did not legallyown that land upon which her house stands. And, as the land was nothers, the house was not hers either. "

Holliday Kendrick struck the desk a thump with his fist. 

"Good!" he cried. "Good enough! I told 'em I generally got what Iwanted! Now I'll get it this time. Kendrick--"

"Wait, " said John. "Captain Obed, you understand me so far?"

The captain's outraged feelings burst forth. 

"I understand it's durn mean business!" he shouted. "I'm ashamed of you, John Kendrick!"

"All right! all right! The shame can wait. And I want YOU to wait, too--until I've finished. There was a flaw in that title, as I said. Captain Bangs, as you know, the house in which Mrs. Barnes is now livingoriginally stood, not where it now stands, but upon land two or threehundred yards to the north, upon a portion of the property whichafterward became the Colfax estate and which now belongs to Mr. Kendrickhere. You know that?"

Captain Obed nodded. "Course I know it, " he said. "Cap'n Abner couldhave bought the house and the land it stood on, but he didn't want to. He liked the view better from where it stands now. So he bought thestrip nigher this way and moved the old house over. But he DID buy itand he paid cash for it. I know he did, because--"

"All right. I know he bought it and all the particulars of the purchaseperhaps better than you do. A good deal of my time of late has beengiven to investigating the history of that second strip of land. Captain Abner Barnes, Mrs. Barnes' uncle, bought the land upon whichhe contemplated moving, and later, did move the house, of Isaiah Holt, Darius Holt's father, then living. Mr. Holt bought of a man named DavidSnow, who, in turn, bought of--"

Holliday Kendrick interrupted. "Snow bought of me, " he growled. "Worseluck! I was a fool to sell, or so I think now; but it was years ago; Ihad no idea at that time of coming here to live; and shore land was ofno value then, anyhow. The strip came to me as a part of my father'sestate. I thought myself lucky to get anything for it. But what's allthis ancient history got to do with it now? And what do you mean bysending me this letter and that check?"

"I'll explain. I am trying to explain. The peculiar point comes in justhere. You, Mr. Kendrick, never owned that land. "

E. Holliday bounced in his chair. 

"Didn't own it!" he roared. "What nonsense are you talking? The landbelonged to my father, Samuel Kendrick, and I inherited it from him. "

"No, you didn't. "

"I tell you I did. He left everything he had to me. "

"Yes, so he did. But he didn't own that land. He owned it at one time, probably he owned it when he made his will, but he didn't own it at thetime of his death. Your father, Mr. Kendrick, was in financial straitsat various times during his residence here in Orham and he borrowed agood deal of money. The most of these were loans, pure and simple, butone at least wasn't. At one time--needing money badly, I presume--hesold this strip of land. The purchaser thought it was worth nothing, no doubt, and never mentioned owning it--at least, until just beforehe died. He simply had the deed recorded and forgot it. Everyoneelse forgot it, too. But the heirs, or the heir, of that purchaser, Idiscovered, was the legal owner of that land. "

Captain Obed uttered an exclamation. 

"Why, John Kendrick!" he shouted. "Do you mean--"

"Hush, Captain! Mr. Kendrick, " addressing the red-faced and furiousgentleman at his left, "have I made myself clear so far? Do you followme?"

"Follow you? I don't believe it! I--I--don't believe it! Who was he? Whodid my father sell that land to?"

"He sold it to his brother, Bailey Kendrick, and Bailey Kendrick was myfather. Under my father's will what little property he had came to me. If anything is sure in this world, it is that that land occupied by Mrs. Barnes belonged, legally, to me. "

Neither of his hearers spoke immediately. Then E. Holliday sprang to hisfeet. 

"It belongs to you, does it!" he shouted. "It belongs to you? All right, so much the better. I can buy of you as well as anybody else. That's whyyou sent me back your retainer, was it? So you and I could trade man toman. All right! I don't believe it yet, but I'll listen to you. What'syour proposition?"

John shook his head. 

"No, " he said. "You're wrong there. I sent you the retainer because Iwished to be absolutely free to do as I pleased with what was mine. Icouldn't remain in your employ and act contrary to your interests--or, according to my way of thinking, I couldn't. As I saw it I did not ownthat land--morally, at least. So, having resigned my employment withyou I--well, I gave the land to the person who, by all that is rightand--and HONEST, should own it. I had the deed made out in her name andI sent it to her an hour ago. "

Captain Obed had guessed it. Now HE sprang from his chair. 

"John Kendrick, " he shouted, in huge delight, "you gave that land toThankful Barnes. The deed was in that big envelope Winnie S. Holt wastakin' to her this very mornin'!"

The happenings of the next few minutes were noisy and profane. E. Holliday Kendrick was responsible for most of the noise and all of theprofanity. He stormed up and down the office, calling his cousin everyuncomplimentary name that occurred to him, vowing the whole story tobe a lie, and that the land should be his anyway; threatening suit andpersonal vengeance. His last words, as he strode to the door, were:

"And--and you're the fellow, the poor relation, that I gave my businessto just from kindness! All right! I haven't finished with you yet. "

John's answer was calm, but emphatic. 

"Very well, " he said. "But this you must understand: I consider myselfunder no obligation whatever to you, Mr. Kendrick. In the very beginningof our business relationship you and I had a plain talk. I told you whenI consented to act as your attorney that I did so purely as a matter ofbusiness and that philanthropy and kinship were to have no part in it. And when you first mentioned your intention of forcing Mrs. Barnes togive up her home I told you what I thought of that, too. "

East Wellmouth's wealthiest summer resident expressed an opinion. 

"You're a fool!" he snarled. "A d--d impractical fool!"

The door slammed behind him. John laughed quietly. 

"As a judge of character, Captain Bangs, " he observed, "my respectedcousin should rank high. "

Captain Obed's first act after E. Holliday's departure was to rushover, seize the young man's hand with one of his own, and thump himenthusiastically upon the back with the other. 

"I said it!" he crowed. "I knew it! I knew you was all right and squareas a brick all the time, John Kendrick! NOW let me meet some of thosefolks that have been talkin' against you! You never did a better day'swork in your life. HE'S down on you, but every decent man in OstableCounty'll be for you through thick and thin after this. Hooray for ourside! John, shake hands with me again. "

They shook, heartily. The captain was so excited and jubilant that hewas incoherent. At last, however, he managed to recover sufficiently toask a question. 

"But how did you do it, " he demanded. "How did you get on the track ofit? You must have had some suspicions. "

John smiled. His friend's joy evidently pleased him, but he, himself, was rather sober and not in the least triumphant. 

"I did have a suspicion, Captain, " he said. "In fact, I had been toldthat I had a claim to a piece of land somewhere along the shore herein East Wellmouth. My father told me years ago, when he was in his lastsickness. He said that he owned a strip of land here, but that it wasprobably worth little or nothing. When I came here I intended lookinginto the matter, but I did not do so. Where the original deed may be, Idon't know even now. It may be among some of my father's papers, whichare stored in New York. But the record of the transfers I foundin Ostable; and that is sufficient. My claim may not be quite asimpregnable as I gave my late client to understand, but it will be hardto upset. I am the only possible claimant and I have transferredmy claim to Mrs. Barnes. The land belongs to her now; she can't bedispossessed. "

"But--but, John, why didn't you say so sooner? What made you leteveryone think--what they did think?"

Before John could reply there came an interruption. The door opened andThankful Barnes entered. She paid no attention to Captain Obed, but, walking straight to the desk, laid upon it the long envelope whichWinnie S. Had brought to her house that morning. 

"Will you tell me, " she asked, sharply, "what that means?"

John rose. "Yes, " he said, "I will tell you, Mrs. Barnes. It is a ratherlong story. Sit down, please. "

Thankful sank into the chair he indicated. He took up the envelope. 

"I will tell you, Mrs. Barnes, " he said, "why I sent you this deed. Don't go, Captain Bangs, you know already and I should like to have youstay. Here is the story, Mrs. Barnes. "

He told it briefly, without superfluous words, but so clearly that therecould be no possibility of a misunderstanding. When he began Thankful'sattitude was cold and unbelieving. When he finished she was white andtrembling. 

"Mrs. Barnes, " he said, in conclusion, "I'm a peculiar fellow, I'mafraid. I have rather--well, suppose we call them impractical ideasconcerning the ethics of my profession, duty to a client, and that sortof thing. I have always been particular in taking a case, but whenI have taken it I have tried to carry it through. I--as you know, Ihesitated before accepting my cousin's retaining fee and the impliedobligation. However, I did accept. "

He might have given his reasons for accepting but he did not. He wenton. 

"When this matter of your property came up, " he said, "I at first had noidea that the thing was serious. You owned the property, as I supposed, and that was sufficient. I had told my cousin that and meant to tellyou. I meant to tell you a portion of what I have just told the captainhere, but I--well, I didn't. Mr. Daniels' remarks irritated me andI--well, he put the case as a test of legal skill between himself andme, and--and I have my share of pride, I suppose. So I determined tobeat him if I could. It was wrong, as I see it now, and I beg yourpardon. "

Thankful put a hand to her forehead. 

"But you did--beat him, didn't you?" she stammered. "You found I didn'town the land. "

"Yes. I found I owned it myself, legally. If I had found it belonged toanyone else, I--well, I scarcely know what I should have done. You see, "with a half smile, "I'm trying to be perfectly frank. Finding that I wasthe owner made it easy. "

She did not understand. "It made it easy, " she repeated slowly. "But yougave it to ME!"

He leaned forward. "Please don't misunderstand me, " he said earnestly. "As I see it, that land belonged to you by all that is right and fair. Legally, perhaps, it didn't, but legal honesty isn't always moralhonesty. I've found that out even in my limited practice. "

Captain Obed tried to put in a word. "Don't you see, Thankful?" he said. "John knew you thought you owned the land and so--"

"Hush! Please don't. I--I don't see. Mr. Kendrick, you--you have pridedyourself on bein' honest with your clients, and Mr. Holliday KendrickWAS your client. "

John smiled. "I compromised there, " he answered. "I returned his moneyand resigned as his attorney before I sent you the deed. It was acompromise, I admit, but I had to choose between him and--well, myhonor, if you like; although that sounds theatrical. I chose to behonest with myself--that's all. The land is yours, Mrs. Barnes. "

He handed her the envelope containing the deed. She took it and satthere turning it over and over in her fingers, not looking at it, butthinking, or trying to think. 

"You give it to me, " she said. "It was yours and you give it to me. Whyshould you? Do--do you think I can TAKE it from you?"

"Certainly, you must take it. "

"But I can't! I can't!"

"Certainly you can. Why not?"

"Why NOT? After the things I've thought about you? And after the wayI've treated you? And--and after Emily--"

"She didn't know either, " broke in Captain Obed. "She didn't understand. She--"

"That's enough, Captain, " interrupted John. "Mrs. Barnes, youmustn't misunderstand me again. Neither you nor--nor Miss Howes mustmisunderstand my motives. I give this to you because I honestly believeit belongs to you, not because I expect anything in return. I--I confessI did hesitate a little. I feared--I feared she--"

"He means Emily, " broke in the irrepressible captain. "You mean Emily, don't you, John?"

"Yes, " with some embarrassment. "Yes, I do mean Miss Howes. She and Ihad been--friends, and I feared she might misinterpret my reasons. It was not until yesterday afternoon, when I learned of the--of theengagement, that I felt certain neither you nor she could misunderstand. Then I felt perfectly free to send you the deed. "

Captain Obed, who had grasped his meaning, would have spoken, butThankful spoke first. She, evidently, was quite at sea. 

"The engagement?" she repeated. "What engagement?"

"Miss Howes' engagement to Mr. Daniels. They were congratulating himon his engagement yesterday at the station. I overheard thecongratulations. I had not known of it before. "

At last Thankful understood. She looked at the speaker, then at CaptainObed, and the color rushed to her face. 

"And even though Emily--Hush, Obed Bangs! you keep still--and eventhough you knew Emily was engaged to Heman Daniels, you could still giveme and her--this?"

"Now, Mrs. Barnes, do you think--"

"Think! John Kendrick, I think I ought to get down on my knees andbeg your pardon for what I've thought these last two months. But I'mthinkin' right now and you ain't. Heman Daniels ain't engaged to EmilyHowes at all; he's engaged to that Bayport woman, the one he's been soattentive to for a year or more. Oh, it's true! Winnie S. Told me sojust now. The news had just come to town and he was full of it. Heman'sover to Bayport spendin' Christmas with her this very minute. "

Even Captain Obed had not a word to say. He was looking at John Kendrickand John's face was white. 

"And I'll tell you somethin' else, " went on Thankful, "somethin' thatEmily herself told me last night. She might have been engaged to HemanDaniels; he asked her to be. But she wouldn't have him; she told himno. "

John stepped from behind the desk. "She--she told him no, " he repeated. "She . . . Why?"

Thankful laughed aloud. "That, " she cried, "I SHAN'T tell you. If youdon't know yourself then I ain't the one to tell you. "

Obed was at her side. "That's enough, " he ordered, taking her by thearm. "That's enough, Thankful Barnes. You come right along with me andfetch that deed with you. This young feller here has got some thinkin'to do, I cal'late. His mind needs overhaulin'. You come with me. "

He led her out to the sidewalk and on until they reached the postoffice. Then, still grasping her arm, he led her into that building. The officewas open for a few hours, even though the day was Christmas. 

"Here!" he whispered, eagerly. "Stand here by the window where we cansee whether he comes out or not. "

"But, Obed, what are you doin'?"

"Doin'! I'm waitin' to see whether that boy is a permanent fool or justa temporary one. Wait now; wait and watch. "

The wait was but momentary. The door of John Kendrick's office openedand John himself came out. He shut the door, but he did not wait to lockit. They saw him cross the road and stride off down the lane toward theshore. 

Captain Obed laughed aloud. 

"No, " he cried, exultantly, "'twas only temporary. He's got his sensesnow. Thankful, let's you and me go for a walk. We shan't be needed atthe High Cliff House for a spell--and we won't be WANTED there, either. "

CHAPTER XVIII

The walk was a long one. It took them a good way from the more populoussection of East Wellmouth, over the hills and, at last, along the beachat the foot of the bluff. It was an odd season of the year for a strollby the seaside, but neither Thankful nor the captain cared for that. Infact it is doubtful if either could have told afterward just wherethey had been. There were so many and such wonderful things to tell, tospeculate upon, and to discuss. 

Thankful told of her brother's return, of Mr. Cobb's miraculousgenerosity, and, for the first time, of the ghostly haunting of thelittle back bedroom. In the latter story Captain Obed seemed to findmuch amusement. He was skeptical. 

"I've heard of a good many ghosts in my time, " he said, "but I neverheard of one that could stand daylight or common-sense. The idea of yourbein' troubled all this time by that snorin' business or whatever 'tis. Why didn't you tell me about it? I'd have had that spook out of thatbedroom afore this, I bet you. "

"It seemed so silly, " confessed Thankful, "that I was ashamed to tellanybody. But there's SOMETHIN' there. I heard it the first night I came, and Rebecca Timpson heard it later on, and then Emily and I and Solomonheard it all together. "

"Yes. Well, then, let's see WHEN you heard it. Every time 'twas whenthere was a storm; rain and wind and the like of that, eh?"

"Yes. I've slept in that room myself a good many times, but never whenthere was a gale of wind or rain. That's so; 'twas always in a stormthat it came. "

"Um-hum. And it always snored. Ho! ho! that IS funny! A ghost with asnore. Must have a cold in its head, I cal'late. "

"You wouldn't laugh if you'd heard it last night. And it didn't snorethe first time. It said 'Oh, Lord, ' then. "

"Humph! so you said. Well, that does complicate things, I will give in. The wind in a water-pipe might snore, but it couldn't say 'Oh, Lord!'not very plain. You heard that the first night, afore Kenelm and I gotthere. "

"Yes. And there wasn't another person in that house except Emily and me;I know that. "

"I wonder if you do know it. . . . Well, I'll have a whack at that roommyself and if a spook starts snorin when I'm there I'll--I'll put aclothespin on its nose, after I've thanked it for scarin' old Sol intorepentance and decency. It took a spirit to do that. No livin' humancould have worked THAT miracle. "

"I agree with you. Well, now I know why he acted the way he did wheneverUncle Abner's name was mentioned. I have a feelin'--at least I imaginethere may have been somethin' else, somethin' we don't know and neverwill know, between Solomon and my uncle. There may be some paper, someagreement, hid around somewheres that is legally bindin' on the oldsinner. I can't hardly believe just breakin' a promise would make himgive anybody fifteen hundred dollars. "

"Maybe, but I don't know; he's always been superstitious and a greatfeller for Spiritu'list camp-meetin's and so on. And he was alwaysregular at prayer-meetin'. Sometimes that sort of a swab, knowin' howmean he actually is, tries to square his meanness with the Almighty bybein' prominent in the church. There may be the kind of paper you say, but I shouldn't wonder if 'twas just scare and a bad conscience. "

"Well, I'm grateful to him, anyhow. And, as for John's kindness, I--Idon't know what to say. Last night I thought this might be the blackestChristmas ever I had; but now it looks as if it might be one of thebrightest. And it's all so strange, so strange it should have come onChristmas. It seems as if the Lord had planned it so. "

"Maybe He did. But it ain't so strange when you come to think ofit. Your brother came home on Christmas Eve because he thought--or Ishouldn't wonder if he did--that you'd be more likely to forgive himand take him in then. Solomon came over when he did on account of hishearin' that Holliday Kendrick was comin'. All days, Christmas or anyother, are alike to Sol when there's a dollar to be sighted with aspyglass. And as for John's givin' you the deed today, I presume likelythat was a sort of Christmas present; probably he meant to give it toyou for that. So the Christmas part ain't so wonderful, after all. "

"Yes, it is. It's all wonderful. I ought to be a very, very happy woman. If John and Emily only come together again I shall be, sure and sartin'. Of course, though, " she added, with emphasis, "I shan't let him give methat land. I'll make some arrangement to pay him for it, a little at atime, if no other way. "

The captain opened his mouth to protest, but there was an air offinality in Thankful's tone which caused him to defer the protest untilanother time. 

"Well--well, all right, " he said. "That can be talked about lateron. But how about yourself? I suppose you'll keep right on with theboardin'-house now?"

"Of course. "

"It'll be pretty hard work for you alone, won't it? Especially if Emilyand John should take a notion to get married. "

"Oh, well! I'm used to bein' alone. I shan't mind--much. Why! here weare right at the foot of our path. I've been talkin' so fast I didn'trealize we'd got here already. Do you suppose it's safe to go up to thehouse now, Obed?"

"I guess so. We can go in the kitchen way and I'll make noise enoughto warn all hands that we're comin'. Who's that by the back door; John, ain't it? No, it ain't; it's Kenelm. "

Kenelm and Imogene were standing at the kitchen door. When thecaptain and Mrs. Barnes drew near they saw that they were in danger ofinterrupting what seemed to be a serious conversation. Neither of theparties to that conversation noticed them until they were close at hand. Imogene had a slip of paper in her hand. 

Captain Obed, whose mind was occupied with but one thought just then, asked a question. 

"Imogene, " he asked in a loud whisper, "where's Miss Emily?"

Imogene started and turned. Kenelm also started. He looked embarrassed. 

"Eh!" cried Imogene. "Oh, it's you, Mrs. Thankful. I was wonderin'where you was. I've been havin' a little talk with Kenelm here. It's allright, Mrs. Thankful. "

"What's all right?" asked Thankful. 

"About your brother workin' here in Kenelm's place. He don't mind. Youdon't, do you, Kenelm?"

Mr. Parker, who had been standing upon one foot and pawing like arestless horse with the other, shifted his position. 

"No-o, " he drawled. "I--I don't know's I do. "

Thankful was disturbed. "I'm sorry you said anything yet awhile, Imogene, " she said. "My plans about Jedediah are hardly made yet. I dohate to make you lose your place, Kenelm. If I could see my way clear tokeepin' two men I'd do it, but I declare I can't see it. "

"That's all right, ma'am, " said Kenelm. "I ain't partic'lar. "

"He don't mind a bit, Mrs. Thankful, " put in Imogene. "Honest, he don't. He don't have to work unless he's obliged to--not much anyhow. Kenelm'sgot money, you know. "

"I know; at least I've heard he had some money. But 'tain't because heneeds the money that I feel bad; it's because of his engagement to you, Imogene. I suppose you're plannin' to be married some time or otherand--"

"Oh, that's all right, too, " interrupted Imogene eagerly. "You needn'tworry about our engagement. She needn't worry about that, need she, Kenelm?"

"No, " said Kenelm shortly. 

Captain Obed thought it time to repeat his first question. 

"Where's Miss Emily?" he asked. 

"She's in the livin'-room. "

"Is--is anybody with her?"

Imogene nodded. "Um-hum, " she said gleefully, "he's there, too. "

"Who?" The captain and Thankful spoke in concert. 

"Mr. John Kendrick. I let him in and I didn't tell her who it was atall. She didn't know till she went in herself and found him. Then Icame right out and shut the door. Oh, " with another nod, "I've got somesense, even if I did come from the Orphans' Home. "

Captain Obed and Thankful looked at each other. 

"Then he did come here, " exclaimed Thankful. 

"Course he did. I told you he wa'n't quite a fool. Been there some time, has he?"

"Yes. Shall I tell 'em you've come? I'll knock first. "

"No, no. " Thankful's reply was emphatic. "Where's the rest of thefolks?" she asked. 

"Georgie and Mr. Cahoon--your brother, I mean--have gone up to thevillage with the other one, the Cobb man. "

"What have they gone to the village for?"

"To help Mr. Cobb get his horse and team at Chris Badger's. He's gone, you know. "

"Who's gone?"

"Why, the Cobb one. He's gone home again. I tried to get him to stay fordinner; so did Miss Emily. We knew you'd want him to. But he wouldn'tstay. Said he was goin' home. Seemed to me he wanted to get out of thehouse quick as ever he could. He gave Georgie a dollar for Christmas. "

"WHAT!" Captain Obed leaned against the corner of the house. "A dollar!"he groaned. "Sol Cobb gave somebody a dollar for Christmas! Don't pinchme, anybody; I don't want to wake up. Let me enjoy my dream long as Ican. Thankful, did you say Sol looked sick?"

"I said he looked pretty nearly sick when he came down this mornin'. "

"I believe it. It must have been a mighty serious attack. Did Georgietake the dollar with him?"

"No. He left it with Miss Emily. "

"That's a mercy. The outdoor air may make Sol feel more rational andsoon's he came to his senses, he'd want that dollar back. Tut! tut! tut!Don't talk to ME! I shall believe in ghosts pretty soon. "

Thankful looked troubled and annoyed. 

"I'm awful sorry he went, " she said. "The poor old thing! He was somiserable I did pity him. I must drive over and see him tomorrow, sure. But what makes me feel the worst, " she added, "is to think of Jedediah'scruisin' up to the village dressed in the rags he was wearin'. He lookedlike--like somethin' the cat brought in. And everybody'll want to knowwho he is; and when they find he's my brother! And on Christmas Day, too!"

"Imogene!" it was Emily's voice. "Imogene, where are you?"

Captain Obed roared a greeting. 

"Merry Christmas, all hands, " he shouted. "Hey, you, John Kendrick; areyou there?"

There was no answer. Thankful did not wait for one; she rushed into thehouse. John Kendrick was alone in the living-room when she reached it. Emily had fled. Thankful looked at Mr. Kendrick and the look gave herthe information she wanted. 

"Oh, Mr. Kendrick--John, " she cried. "I shall call you John now; I can, can't I--where is she?"

John smiled. He looked ready to smile at all creation. "I think she isupstairs, " he said. "At least she ran in that direction when she heardthe captain call. "

Thankful started for the hall and the stairs. At the door she turned. 

"Don't you go away, John, " she ordered. "Don't you dare go away fromthis house. You're goin' to have dinner here THIS day, if you never doagain. "

John, apparently, had no intention of going away. He smiled oncemore and walked toward the dining-room. Captain Obed met him at thethreshold. 

"Well?" shouted the captain. "Well? What have you got to say foryourself now, eh?"

John laughed. "Not much, Captain, " he answered, "not much, except thatI've been an idiot. "

"Yup. All right. But that ain't what I want to know. I want to know--"he stopped and gazed keenly at his friend's face. "I don't know's I dowant to know, either, " he added. "I cal'late I know it already. When ayoung feller stands around looking as sheepish as if he'd been caughtstealin' hens' eggs and grinnin' at the same time as if he was proud ofit, then--then there's just one thing happened to him. I cal'late you'vefound out why she wouldn't marry Heman Daniels, eh? My, but I'm glad!You don't deserve it, but I'm glad just the same. Let's shake handsagain. "

They were still shaking and the captain was crowing like a triumphantrooster over his friend's good fortune and the humiliation in store forthe "tattle-tales and character-naggers" among his fellow-townsmen whenImogene appeared. 

"Is Mrs. Thankful here?" she asked. "Well, never mind. You'll do, Cap'n Bangs. Will you and Mr. Kendrick come out here to the back door aminute? I'd like to have you witness somethin'. "

Captain Obed's forehead wrinkled in surprise. 

"Witness somethin'?" he repeated. Then, with a glance at John, who wasas puzzled as he, "Humph! I witnessed somethin' this mornin' and now I'mto witness somethin' else. I'll begin to be an expert pretty soon, won'tI? Humph! What--well, heave ahead, Imogene. I'll come. "

Imogene conducted them to the kitchen door where Mr. Parker stillstood, looking remarkably foolish. Imogene's manner, however, was verybusiness-like. 

"Now then, " she said, addressing the two "witnesses, " "you see thispiece of paper. Perhaps you'd better read it first. "

She handed the paper to Captain Obed, who looked at it and passed itover to John. It was the statement, signed by Kenelm, in which he agreedto marry Imogene whenever she asked him to do so. 

"You see what 'tis, don't you?" asked Imogene. "Yes. Well, now you watchand see what I do with it. "

She tore the agreement into small pieces. Stepping into the kitchen sheput the pieces in the stove. 

"There!" she exclaimed, returning to the door. "That ends that. He andI, " pointing to Kenelm, "ain't engaged any longer, and he don't have towork here any longer. Is it all plain to both of you?"

It was not altogether plain even yet. The expression on the faces of thewitnesses proved that. 

"Now, Kenelm, " said Imogene cheerfully, "you can leave if you want to. And, " with a mischievous chuckle, "when you get there you can give yoursister my love, the inmate's love, you know. Lordy! Won't she enjoygettin' it!"

When Kenelm had gone, which he did immediately and without a word, Imogene vouchsafed an explanation. 

"I never did want to marry him, " she said. "When I get ready to marryanybody it'll be somebody with more get-up-and-git than he's got, Ihope. But I was ready to do anything to help Mrs. Thankful from frettin'and when he talked about quittin' his job right in the busy season I hadto keep him here somehow, I just HAD to. He was kind of--of mushy andsoft about me first along--I guess guys of his kind are likely to beabout any woman that'll listen to 'em--and when his sister got jealousand put him up to leavin' I thought up my plan. I got him to askme--he'd as much as asked me afore--and then I made him sign that paper. Ugh! the silliness I had to go through afore he would sign it! Don't askme about it or I shan't eat any dinner. But he did sign it and I knew Ihad him under my thumb. He's scared of that sister of his, but he's morescared of losin' his money. And she's just as scared of that as he is. THEY didn't want any breachin' of promises--No sir-ee! Ho! ho!"

She stopped to laugh in gleeful triumph. John laughed too. Captain Obedscratched his head. 

"But, hold on there; heave to, Imogene!" he ordered. "I don't seem toget the whole of this yet. You did agree to marry him. Suppose he'd saidyou'd got to marry him, what then?"

"He wouldn't. He didn't want to marry me--not after I'd took my time atbossin' him around a while. And if he had--well, if he had, and I'd hadto do it, I would, I suppose. I'd do anything for Mrs. Thankful, after what's she's done for me. Miss Emily and me had a talk aboutself-sacrifice and I see my duty plain. I told Miss Emily why I didit that night when you all came home from the Fair. She understood thewhole thing. "

The captain burst into a roar of laughter. 

"Ho! ho!" he shouted. "Well, Imogene, I said you beat all my goin' tosea, and you do--you sartin do. Now, I'd like to be on hand and see howHannah takes it. If I know her, now that that engagement ain't hangin'over her, she'll even up with her brother for all she's had to put upwith. Ho! ho! Poor old Kenelm's in for a warm Christmas. "

And yet Kenelm's Christmas was not so "warm" after all. He told Hannahof his broken engagement, wasting no words--which, for him, was veryremarkable--and expressing no regret whatever. Hannah listened, at firstwith joy, and then, when Imogene's "love" was conveyed to her, withgrowing anger. 

"The idea!" she cried. "And you bring me over a message like that. Fromher--from an Orphans' Home inmate to your own sister! And you let herwalk over you, chuck you out as if you was a wornout doormat she'd wipedher boots on, and never said a word. Well, I'll say it for you. I'lltell her what I think of her. And she was cal'latin' to sue YOU forbreaches of promise, was she? Humph! Two can play at that game. I don'tknow's I shan't have you sue her. "

"I don't want to. I told you this mornin' I didn't care nothin' aboutmarryin' her. And you didn't want me to yourself. Now that it's all overyou ought to be happy, I should think. I don't see what you're growlin'about. "

"No, I suppose you don't. You--you, " with withering contempt, "youhaven't got the self-respect of--of a woodtick. I'm--I declare I'mperfectly prospected with shame at havin' such a brother in my family. And after cruisin' around with her and takin' her to the Cattle Show--"

"You went to the Cattle Show yourself. "

"I don't care if I did. Now you march yourself upstairs and change yourclothes. "

"Aw, now, Hannah. These clothes are good enough. "

"Good enough! For Christmas Day! I should think you'd be ashamed. Oh, you make me so provoked! If folks knew what I know about you--"

Kenelm interrupted, a most unusual thing for him. 

"S'posin' they knew what I know about you, " he observed. 

"What? What do you mean by that? What have I done to be ashamed of?"

"I don't know. I don't know what you did. I don't even know where youwent. But when a person crawls down a ladder in the middle of the nightand goes off somewhere with--with somebody else and don't get home until'most mornin', then--well, then I cal'late folks might be interested ifthey knew, that's all. "

Hannah's face was a picture, a picture to be studied. For the first timein her life she was at a loss for words. 

"I ain't askin' no questions, " went on Kenelm calmly. "I ain't toldnobody and I shan't unless--unless somebody keeps naggin' and makes memad. But I shan't change my clothes this day; and I shan't do nothin'else unless I feel like it, either. "

His sister stared at him blankly for a moment. Then she fled from theroom. Kenelm took his pipe from his pocket, filled and lighted it, andsmoked, smiling between puffs at the ceiling. The future looked sereneand rosy--to Kenelm. 

Christmas dinner at the High Cliff House was a joyful affair, notwithstanding that the promise of fair weather had come to naught andit was raining once more. John stayed for that dinner, so did CaptainObed. The former and Miss Emily said very little and their appetiteswere not robust, but they appeared to be very happy indeed. Georgiecertainly was happy and Jedediah's appetite was all that might have beenexpected of an appetite fed upon the cheapest of cheap food for days andcompelled to go without any food for others. Thankful was happy, too, orpretended to be, and Captain Obed laughed and joked with everyone. Yethe seemed to have something on his mind, and his happiness was not ascomplete as it might have been. 

Everyone helped Imogene wash the dishes; then John and Emily left thekitchen bound upon some mysterious errand. Captain Obed and Georgiedonned what the captain called "dirty weather rigs" and went out togive George Washington and Patrick Henry and the poultry their Christmasdinner. 

The storm had flooded the low land behind the barn. The hen yard was inthe center of a miniature island. The walls of the pigsty which Thankfulhad had built rose from a lake. 

"It's a mercy Pat moved to drier quarters, eh, second mate!" chuckledthe captain. "He'd have had to sleep with a life-preserver on if hestayed here. "

They fed the hens and gave George Washington a liberal measure of oatsand a big forkful of hay. 

"Don't want him to go hungry Christmas Day, " said Captain Obed. "Nowlet's cruise around and see if Patrick Henry is singin' out for libertyor death. "

The pig was not, apparently, "singing out" for anything. When theyreached the wall of the pen by the washshed he was not in sight. But they heard him, somewhere back in the darkness beneath the shed, breathing stertorously, apparently sound asleep. 

Georgie laughed. "Hear him, " he said. "He's so fat he always makes thatnoise when he's asleep. And he's awful smart. When it's warm and niceweather he sleeps out here in the sun. When it rains and is cold, sameas now, he always goes way back in there. Hear him! Don't he make afunny noise. "

Emily came hurrying around the corner of the house. 

"Captain Bangs, " she whispered. "Captain Bangs!"

The captain looked at her. He was about to ask why she whispered insteadof speaking aloud, but the expression on her face caused him to changehis question to "What's the matter?"

Emily looked at Georgie before replying. 

"I--I want to see you, " she answered. "I want you to come with me. Comequick. Georgie, you must stay in the kitchen with Imogene. "

Georgie did not want to stay in the kitchen, but when he found Jedediahthere he was more complacent. The ex-gold seeker and his tales ofadventure had a tremendous fascination for Georgie. 

Emily led the way toward the front stairs and Captain Obed followed. 

"What's up?" he whispered. "What's all the mystery about?"

"We don't know--yet. But we want you to help us find out. John and Ihave been up to look at the haunted room and--and IT'S THERE. "

"There! What?"

"The--the ghost, or whatever it is. We heard it. Come!"

At the door of the rooms which were the scene of Mr. Cobb's recentsupernatural experience and of Miss Timpson's "warning" they foundThankful and John standing, listening. Thankful looked ratherfrightened. John was eager and interested. 

"You found him, Emily, " he whispered. "Good. Captain, you and I arecommissioned to lay the ghost. And the ghost is in. Listen!"

They listened. Above the patter and rattle of the rain on the roofthey heard a sound, the sound which two or three members had heard theprevious night, the sound of snoring. 

"I should have gone in before, " whispered John, "but they wanted me towait for you. Come on, Captain. "

They opened the door of the larger room and entered on tiptoe. Thesnoring was plainly heard now and it seemed, as they expected, to comefrom the little room adjoining. Into that room the party proceeded, themen in the lead. There was no one there save themselves and nothing outof the ordinary to be seen. But the snoring kept on, plainer than ever. 

John looked behind the furniture and under the bed. 

"It's no use doin' that, " whispered Thankful. "I've done that myselffifty times. "

Captain Obed was walking about the room, his ear close to the wall, listening. At a point in the center of the rear wall, that at the backof the house, he stopped and listened more intently than ever. 

"John, " he whispered eagerly, "come here. "

John came. 

"Listen, " whispered the captain. "It's plainer here than anywhere else, ain't it?"

"Yes. Yes, I think it is. But where does it come from?"

"Somewhere overhead, seems to me. Give me that chair. "

Cautiously and silently he placed the chair close to the wall, stoodupon it, and, with his ear against the wallpaper, moved his headbackward and forward and up and down. Then he stopped moving andreaching up felt along the wall with his hands. 

"I've got it, " he whispered. "Here's the place. "

His fingers described a circle on the wall. He tapped gently in themiddle of the circle. 

"Hark!" he said. "All solid out here, but here--hollow as a drum. It's--it's a stovepipe hole, that's what 'tis. There was a stove hereone time or 'nother and the pipe hole was papered over. "

"But--but what of it?" whispered Thankful. "I don't care about stovepipeholes. It's that dreadful noise I want to locate. I hear it now, just asplain as ever. "

"Where could a stovepipe go to from here?" mused the captain. "Not intothe kitchen; the kitchen chimney's way over t'other side. Maybe therewas a chimney here afore the house was moved. "

"But the snoring?" faltered Emily. "Don't you hear it?"

Captain Obed put his ear against the covered stovepipe hole. He listenedand as he listened his face took on a new expression, an expression ofsudden suspicion, then of growing certainty, and, a moment later, ofhuge amusement. 

He stepped down from the chair. 

"Stay right where you are, " he ordered. "Don't move and don't make anynoise. I'll be right back. "

He hurried out. They waited. The snoring kept on and on. Suddenly itceased. Then, in that very room, or so it seemed, sounded a grunt and afrightened squeal. And then a voice, a hollow voice which cried:

"Ahoy, all hands! I'm the ghost of Nebuchadnezzar's first wife and Iwant to know what you folks mean by wakin' me up. "

The three in the back bedroom looked at each other. 

"It's Captain Bangs!" cried Emily. 

"It's Obed!" exclaimed Thankful. 

"He's found it, " shouted Kendrick. "Come on. "

The captain was not in the kitchen when they got there. He had gone outof doors, so Imogene said. Unmindful of the rain they rushed out andaround the corner, behind and below the washshed. Patrick Henry wasrunning about his pen, apparently much disturbed, but Captain Obed wasnot in sight. 

"Where is he?" demanded Thankful. "Where's he gone to?"

"Hello there, John!" cried a voice from the darkness at the rear of thepigsty under the kitchen. "Come in here. Never mind your clothes. Comein. "

John vaulted over the rail of the pen and disappeared. A few momentslater he came out again in company with the captain. Both were laughingheartily. 

"We've got the answer, " puffed Captain Obed, who was out of breath. "We've laid the ghost. You remember I told you that day when we firstexplored this place that old Laban Eldredge had this pigpen built. Aforethat 'twas all potato cellar, and at one time afore the house was madeover there must have been a stove in that back bedroom. There's nochimney, but there's cracks between the boards at the back of thatpigpen and any noise down here goes straight up between the walls andout of that stovepipe hole like a speakin' tube. You heard me when Ispoke to you just now, didn't you?"

"Yes--yes, " answered Emily. "We heard you, but--but what was it thatsnored? What was the ghost?"

Captain Obed burst into a shout of laughter. "There he is, " he said, pointing. 

Thankful and Emily looked. 

"What?" cried the latter. 

"The PIG?" exclaimed Thankful. 

"That's what. Georgie gave me a hint when he and I was out here justnow. Old Pat was asleep way in back there and snorin' like a steamengine. And Georgie said he never slept there unless 'twas a storm, rainin' same as 'tis now. And every time you heard the--ho! ho!--theghost, 'twas on a stormy night. It stormed the night you got here, andwhen Becky Timpson had her warnin', and last night when Sol Cobb gothis. Ho! ho! ho! Patrick Henry's the ghost. Well, he's a healthy oldspirit. "

Emily laughed until the tears came into her eyes. 

"The pig!" she cried. "Oh, Aunt Thankful! You and I were frightenedalmost to death last night--and of that creature there. Oh, dear me!"

Thankful laughed, too, but she was not fully convinced. 

"Maybe 'twas the pig that snored, " she admitted. "And of course whateverwe heard came up that pipe hole. But there was no pig there on thatfirst night; I didn't buy the pig until long afterwards. And, besides, what I heard THAT night talked; it said, 'Oh, Lord!' Patrick Henry maybe a smart pig, but he can't talk. "

This was something of a staggerer, but the captain was still certain hewas on the right track. 

"Then somethin' else was there, " he declared. "Somebody was down underthe house here, that's sartin. Who could it have been? Never mind; I'llfind out. We'll clear up the whole of this ghost business, now we've gotstarted. Maybe we can find some hint in there now. John, go up and fetcha lantern, there's a good fellow, and we'll have a look. "

John brought the lantern and by its light the two men explored therecesses of Patrick Henry's bed chamber. When they emerged, covered withdust and cobwebs, the captain held something in his hand. 

"I don't know what 'tis, " he said. "Maybe nothin' of any account, but'twas trod down in the corner close to the wall. Humph? Eh? Why, it's amitten, ain't it?"

It was a mitten, a much worn one, and on the inside of the wrist-handwere worked three letters. 

"K. I. P. " read Captain Obed. "What's 'K. I. P. ' stand for?"

Imogene, who had joined the group, clapped her hands. 

"I know, " she cried. "Kenelm Issachar Parker. "

Thankful nodded. "That's it, " she agreed. "And--and--why, now I come tothink of it, I remember hearin' Hannah pitchin' into Kenelm that firstmornin' after our night at her house, for losin' his umbrella and amitten. "

"Right you are!" Captain Obed slapped his knee. "And Kenelm was outsomewheres that night afore he and I came over here. He found hisumbrella and he brought it home whole a week or so later. But it wa'n'twhole all that time, because Seth Ellis told me Kenelm brought anumbrella in for him to fix. All turned inside out it was. Eh? Yes, sir!We're gettin' nigher port all the time. Kenelm came by this house thatnight, because 'twas him that saw your light in the window. I'll bet youhe smashed his new umbrella on the way down from the club and crawledin here out of the wet to fix it. He couldn't fix it, so he left ithere and came back after it the next day. And 'twas then he dropped thismitten. "

Emily offered a suggestion. 

"You said you saw someone hiding behind the henhouse that next morning, Captain, " she said. 

"So I did. And I thought 'twas one of Solon Taylor's boys. I'll bet'twas Kenelm; he'd sneaked over to get the umbrella. It was him thatsaid, 'Oh, Lord' that night; I'll bet high on it. When he thought ofwhat Hannah'd say to his smashin' the umbrella she gave him it's awonder he didn't say more than that. That's the answer--the wholeanswer--and I'll prove it next time I see Kenelm. "

Which, by the way, he did. 

Later in the afternoon John and Emily walked up to the village together. They asked Thankful and Captain Obed to accompany them, but theinvitation was declined. However, as John had suddenly remembered thathe had left his office door unlocked, he felt that he should go andEmily went with him. 

"I presume likely, " observed the captain, as he looked after them, "thatI ought to feel conscience-struck for not sayin' yes when they askedme to come along, but somehow I don't. I have a sneakin' feelin' thatthey'll get on first-rate without our company, Thankful. "

Thankful was silent. She was sitting by the window. The pair were alonetogether in the living-room now. Imogene and Jedediah and Georgie werein the kitchen making molasses candy. 

"Well, " observed Captain Obed, "that's so, ain't it? Don't you agreewith me?"

Still there was no answer and, turning, the captain was surprised to seehis companion wiping her eyes with her handkerchief. 

"For thunder sakes!" he exclaimed, in dismay. "What's happened now? Areyou cryin'?"

Thankful tried to smile. "No, " she said. "I'm not cryin'. At least, Ihadn't ought to cry. I ought to be awful happy and I am. Seein' thosetwo go off together that way made me think that pretty soon they'd begoin' away for good. And I--I was a little lonesome, I guess. "

"Sho! sho! You mustn't be lonesome. They won't get married yet awhile, Ical'late. "

"No. I suppose not. But Emily will have to go next week back to herschool, and she'll take Georgie with her. I'll miss 'em both terribly. "

"Yes, so you will. But you've got your brother now. He'll be somecompany. "

"Yes. But, unless he's changed more than I'm afraid he has, he'll bemore responsibility than comfort. He means well enough, poor Jed, but heain't what you'd call a capable person. "

"Well, Imogene's capable enough, and she'll be here. "

"Yes. "

Silence for a time. Then Captain Obed spoke. 

"Thankful, " he said, earnestly, "I know what's worryin' you. It's justwhat you said, the responsibility of it all. It's too much for you, theresponsibility of handlin' this big house and a houseful of boarderswhen they come. You hadn't ought to do it alone. You ought to havesomebody to help. "

"Perhaps I had, but I don't know who 'twill be. I can't afford to hirethe kind of help I need. "

"Why don't you take a partner?"

"A partner? Who, for goodness sakes?"

"Well--me. I've got some money of my own. I'll go in partners with youhere. . . . Oh, now, now!" he added hastily. "Don't think there's anycharity in this. There ain't at all. As I see it, this boardin' houseis mighty good business and a safe investment. Suppose you and I go inpartners on it, Thankful. "

Thankful shook her head. 

"You're awfully good, " she said. 

"No, I ain't. "

"Yes, you are. But I couldn't do it, Obed. "

"Why not?"

"You know why not. For the same reason I couldn't say yes to what youasked me a while ago. I can't let you help me out of pity. "

"Pity!" He turned and stared at her. "Pity!" he repeated. 

"Yes, pity. I know you're sorry for me. You said you were. And I knowyou'd do anything to help me, even--even--"

He interrupted. 

"Thankful Barnes, " he said, "did you think I asked you what I asked thattime out of PITY?"

"Now, Obed--"

"Stop! Answer me. Did you think such a fool thing as THAT? You stayright where you are! I want you to look me in the face. "

"Don't, Obed! Don't! Let me be. Don't!"

He paid not the slightest attention. He was bending over her, his handbeneath her chin, forcing her to look at him. 

"Don't, Obed!" she begged. 

"Thankful, you tell me. Did you think I asked you to marry me justbecause I pitied you. Just because I was sorry for you? Did you?"

"Obed, please!"

"Thankful, I've come to care for you more'n anything else in the world. I don't pity you. I've been pityin' myself for the last month because Icouldn't have you--just you. I want you, Thankful Barnes, and if you'llmarry me I'll be the happiest critter that walks. "

"Oh, Obed, don't make it so hard for me. You said you wouldn't. And--andyou can't care--really. "

"I can't! Do you care for me? That's what I want to know. "

"Obed, you and I ain't young folks. We're gettin' on towards old age. What would folks say if--"

He threw his arms about her and literally lifted her from the chair. 

"I don't care a durn WHAT they say, " he shouted, exultantly. "You'vesaid what I was waitin' for. Or you've looked it, anyhow. Now then, WHENshall we be married? That's the next thing for you to say, my girl. "

They sat there in the gathering dusk and talked. The captain wasuproariously gay. He could scarcely keep still, but whistled and drummedtunes upon the chair arm with his fingers. Thankful was more subdued andquiet, but she was happy, completely happy at last. 

"This'll be some boardin'-house, this one of ours, " declared thecaptain. "We'll build the addition you wanted and we'll make the cityfolks sit up and take notice. And, " with a gleeful chuckle, "we won'thave any ghost snorin' warnin's, either. "

Thankful laughed. "No, we won't, " she said. "And yet I'm awfullygrateful to that--that--that pig ghost. If it hadn't been for him thatmortgage would still be hangin' over us. And Solomon would never havebeen scared into doin' what he promised Uncle Abner he would do. Perhapshe'll be a better man, a more generous man to some of his other poorvictims after this. I hope he will. "

"So do I, but I have my doubts. "

"Well, we'll never kill old Patrick Henry, will we? That would be TOOungrateful. "

Captain Obed slapped his knee. 

"Kill him!" he repeated: "I should say not! Why, he's your Uncle Abnerand Rebecca Timpson's sister Medora and old Laban Eldredge and I don'tknow how many more. Killin' him would be a double back-action massacre. No indeed, we won't kill him! Come on, let's go out and have a look athim now. I'd like to shake his hand, if he had one. "

"But, Obed, it's rainin'. "

"What of it? We don't care for rain. It's goin' to be all sunshine foryou after this, my lady. I'm the weather prophet and I tell you so. Godbless you, Thankful Barnes. "

Thankful smiled. 

"He has blessed me already, Obed, " she said.