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diff --git a/2552-h/2552-h.htm b/2552-h/2552-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b4bc1d5 --- /dev/null +++ b/2552-h/2552-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16745 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Thankful's Inheritance, by Joseph C. Lincoln + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Thankful's Inheritance, by Joseph C. Lincoln + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Thankful's Inheritance + +Author: Joseph C. Lincoln + +Release Date: May 18, 2006 [EBook #2552] +Last Updated: March 5, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THANKFUL'S INHERITANCE *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Lainson; David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THANKFUL'S INHERITANCE + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Joseph C. Lincoln + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + The road from Wellmouth Centre to East Wellmouth is not a good one; even + in dry weather and daylight it is not that. For the first two miles it + winds and twists its sandy way over bare hills, with cranberry swamps and + marshy ponds in the hollows between. Then it enters upon a three-mile + stretch bordered with scrubby pines and bayberry thickets, climbing at + last a final hill to emerge upon the bluff with the ocean at its foot. + And, fringing that bluff and clustering thickest in the lowlands just + beyond, is the village of East Wellmouth, which must on no account be + confused with South Wellmouth, or North Wellmouth, or West Wellmouth, or + even Wellmouth Port. + </p> + <p> + On a bright sunny summer day the East Wellmouth road is a hard one to + travel. At nine o'clock of an evening in March, with a howling gale + blowing and rain pouring in torrents, traveling it is an experience. + Winnie S., who drives the East Wellmouth depot-wagon, had undergone the + experience several times in the course of his professional career, but + each time he vowed vehemently that he would not repeat it; he would “heave + up” his job first. + </p> + <p> + He was vowing it now. Perched on the edge of the depot wagon's front seat, + 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, he + expressed his opinion of the road, the night, and the job. + </p> + <p> + “By Judas priest!” declared Winnie S.—his name was Winfield Scott + Hancock Holt, but no resident of East Wellmouth called him anything but + Winnie S.—“by Judas priest! If this ain't enough to make a feller + give up tryin' to earn a livin', then I don't know! Tell him he can't ship + aboard a schooner 'cause goin' to sea's a dog's life, and then put him on + a job like this! Dog's life! Judas priest! What kind of a life's THIS, I + want to know?” + </p> + <p> + From the curtain depths of the depot-wagon behind him a voice answered, a + woman's voice: + </p> + <p> + “Judgin' by the amount of dampness in it I should think you might call it + a duck's life,” it suggested. + </p> + <p> + Winnie S. accepted this pleasantry with a grunt. “I 'most wish I was a + duck,” he declared, savagely. “Then I could set in three inches of + ice-water and like it, maybe. Now what's the matter with you?” This last a + roar to the horse, whose splashy progress along the gullied road had + suddenly ceased. “What's the matter with you now?” repeated Winnie. “What + have you done; come to anchor? Git dap!” + </p> + <p> + But General Jackson refused to “git dap.” Jerks at the reins only caused + him to stamp and evince an inclination to turn around. Go ahead he would + not. + </p> + <p> + “Judas priest!” exclaimed the driver. “I do believe the critter's + drowndin'! Somethin's wrong. I've got to get out and see, I s'pose. Set + right where you be, ladies. I'll be back in a minute,” adding, as he took + a lighted lantern from beneath the seat and pulled aside the heavy boot + preparatory to alighting, “unless I get in over my head, which ain't so + dummed unlikely as it sounds.” + </p> + <p> + Lantern in hand he clambered clumsily from beneath the boot and + disappeared. Inside the vehicle was blackness, dense, damp and profound. + </p> + <p> + “Auntie,” said a second feminine voice, “Auntie, what DO you suppose has + happened?” + </p> + <p> + “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 for forty days + and nights. Land sakes alive!” as another gust shot and beat its + accompanying cloudburst through and between the carriage curtains; “right + in my face and eyes! I don't wonder that boy wished he was a duck. I'd + like to be a fish—or a mermaid. I couldn't be much wetter if I was + either one, and I'd have gills so I could breathe under water. I SUPPOSE + mermaids have gills, I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + Emily laughed. “Aunt Thankful,” she declared, “I believe you would find + something funny in a case of smallpox.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I should; I never tried. 'Twouldn't be much harder than to be funny + with—with rain-water on the brain. I'm so disgusted with myself I + don't know what to do. The idea of me, daughter and granddaughter of + seafarin' 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 did this + mornin'. And draggin' you into it, too. We could have come tomorrow or + 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 folks leave to + you in wills. Talk about dead men's shoes! Live men's rubber boots would + be worth more to you and me this minute. SUCH a cruise as this has been!” + </p> + <p> + It had been a hard trip, certainly, and the amount of water through which + they had traveled the latter part of it almost justified its being called + a “cruise.” Old Captain Abner Barnes, skipper, for the twenty years before + his death, of the coasting schooner T. I. Smalley, had, during his + life-long seafaring, never made a much rougher voyage, all things + considered, than that upon which his last will and testament had sent his + niece and her young companion. + </p> + <p> + Captain Abner, a widower, had, when he died, left his house and land at + East Wellmouth to his niece by marriage, Mrs. Thankful Barnes. Thankful, + whose husband, Eben Barnes, was lost at sea the year after their marriage, + had been living with and acting as housekeeper for an elderly woman named + Pearson at South Middleboro. She, Thankful, had never visited her East + Wellmouth inheritance. For four years after she inherited it she received + the small rent paid her by the tenant, one Laban Eldredge. His name was + all she knew concerning him. Then he died and for the next eight months + the house stood empty. And then came one more death, that of old Mrs. + Pearson, the lady for whom Thankful had “kept house.” + </p> + <p> + Left alone and without present employment, the Widow Barnes considered + what she should do next. And, thus considering, the desire to visit and + inspect her East Wellmouth property grew and strengthened. She thought + more and more concerning it. It was hers, she could do what she pleased + with it, and she began to formulate vague ideas as to what she might like + to do. She kept these ideas to herself, but she spoke to Emily Howes + concerning the possibilities of a journey to East Wellmouth. + </p> + <p> + Emily was Mrs. Barnes' favorite cousin, although only a second cousin. Her + mother, Sarah Cahoon, Thankful's own cousin, had married a man named + Howes. Emily was the only child by this marriage. But later there was + another marriage, this time to a person named Hobbs, and there were five + little Hobbses. Papa Hobbs worked occasionally, but not often. His wife + and Emily worked all the time. The latter had been teaching school in + Middleboro, but now it was spring vacation. So when Aunt Thankful + suggested 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. + </p> + <p> + They had left South Middleboro that afternoon. The rain began when the + train reached West Ostable. At Bayport it had become a storm. At Wellmouth + Centre it was a gale and a miniature flood. And now, shut up in the back + part of the depot-wagon, with the roaring wind and splashing, beating rain + outside, Thankful's references to fish and ducks and mermaids, even to + Mount Ararat, seemed to Emily quite appropriate. They had planned to spend + the night at the East Wellmouth hotel and visit the Barnes' property in + the morning. But it was five long miles to that hotel from the Wellmouth + Centre station. Their progress so far had been slow enough. Now they had + stopped altogether. + </p> + <p> + A flash of light showed above the top of the carriage boot. + </p> + <p> + “Mercy on us!” cried Aunt Thankful. “Is that lightnin'? All we need to + make 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, he + ain't been washed away, that's one comfort.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Judas priest!” he gasped. “If this ain't—” + </p> + <p> + “You needn't say it. We'll agree with you,” interrupted Mrs. Barnes, + hastily. “Is anything the matter?” + </p> + <p> + The driver's reply was in the form of elaborate sarcasm. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” he drawled, “there wasn't nothin' the matter. Just a few million + pines blowed across the road and the breechin' busted and the for'ard + wheel about ready to come off, that's all. Maybe there's a few other + things I didn't notice, but that's all I see.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Well, they'll do for a spell. How's the weather, any worse?” + </p> + <p> + “Worse? No! they ain't no worse made. Looks as if 'twas breakin' a little + over to west'ard, fur's that goes. But how in the nation we'll ever fetch + East Wellmouth, I don't know. Git dap! GIT DAP! Have you growed fast?” + </p> + <p> + General Jackson pulled one foot after the other from the mud and the wagon + rocked and floundered as its pilot steered it past the fallen trees. For + the next twenty minutes no one spoke. Then Winnie S. breathed a sigh of + thankfulness. + </p> + <p> + “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 if + that breechin' holds and the pesky wheel don't come off. How are you, in + aft there; tolerable snug?” + </p> + <p> + Emily said nothing. Aunt Thankful chuckled at the word. + </p> + <p> + “Snug!” she repeated. “My, yes! If this water was salt we'd be as snug as + a couple of pickled mackerel. How far off is this civilization you're + talkin' about?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, our hotel where you're bound is a good two mile, but there's—Judas + priest! there goes that breechin' again!” + </p> + <p> + There was another halt while the breeching underwent temporary repairs. + The wind blew as hard as ever, but the rain had almost stopped. A few + minutes later it stopped altogether. + </p> + <p> + “There!” declared Winnie S. “The fust mile's gone. I don't know's I hadn't + ought to stop—” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Thankful interrupted. “Stop!” she cried. “For mercy sakes, don't stop + anywheres unless you have to. We've done nothin' but stop ever since we + started. Go on as far as you can while this—this machine of yours is + wound up.” + </p> + <p> + But that was not destined to be far. From beneath the forward end of the + depot-wagon sounded a most alarming creak, a long-drawn, threatening + groan. Winnie S. uttered his favorite exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “Judas priest!” he shouted. “There goes that wheel! I've, been expectin' + it.” + </p> + <p> + He tugged at the right hand rein. General Jackson, who, having been + brought up in a seafaring community, had learned to answer his helm, + swerved sharply from the road. Emily screamed faintly. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you goin'?” demanded Mrs. Barnes. + </p> + <p> + The driver did not answer. The groan from beneath the carriage was more + ominously threatening than ever. And suddenly the threat was fulfilled. + The depot-wagon jerked on for a few feet and then, with a crack, settled + down to port in a most alarming fashion. Winnie S. settled down with it, + still holding tight to the reins and roaring commands to General Jackson + at the top of his lungs. + </p> + <p> + “Whoa!” he hollered. “Whoa! Stand still! Stand still where you be! Whoa!” + </p> + <p> + General Jackson stood still. Generally speaking he needed but one hint to + do that. His commander climbed out, or fell out, from beneath the boot. + The ground upon which he fell was damp but firm. + </p> + <p> + “Whoa!” he roared again. Then scrambling to his feet he sprang toward the + wagon, which, the forward wheel detached and flat beneath it, was resting + on the remaining three in a fashion which promised total capsizing at any + moment. + </p> + <p> + “Be you hurt? Be you hurt?” demanded Winnie S. + </p> + <p> + From inside, the tightly drawn curtains there came a variety of sounds, + screams, exclamations, and grunts as of someone gasping for breath. + </p> + <p> + “Be you hurt?” yelled the frantic Mr. Holt. + </p> + <p> + It was the voice of the younger passenger which first made coherent reply. + </p> + <p> + “No,” it panted. “No, I—I think I'm not hurt. But Aunt Thankful—Oh, + Auntie, are you—” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Thankful herself interrupted. Her voice was vigorous enough, but it + sounded as if smothered beneath a heavy weight. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she gasped. “I—I'm all right. I'm all right. Or I guess I + shall be when you get—off of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Judas priest!” cried Winnie S., and sprang to the scene. It was the + younger woman, Emily, whom he rescued first. She, being on the upper side + of the tilted wagon, had slid pell-mell along the seat down upon the body + of her companion. Mrs. Barnes was beneath and getting her out was a harder + task. However, it was accomplished at last. + </p> + <p> + “Mercy on us!” exclaimed the lady, as her companions assisted her to rise. + “Mercy on us! I feel like a pancake. I never knew you weighed so much, + Emily Howes. Well, that's all right and no bones broke. Where are we now? + Why—why, that's a house, I do believe! We're in somebody's yard.” + </p> + <p> + 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, was the + silhouette of a dilapidated picket fence; and in front loomed the shadowy + shapes of buildings. + </p> + <p> + “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 the bare + 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!” + </p> + <p> + She seized her companion by the hand and led the way toward the nearest + and largest building. Winnie S., having retrieved and relighted the + overturned lantern, was inspecting the wreck of the depot-wagon. It was + some minutes before he noticed that his passengers had disappeared. Then + he set up a shout. + </p> + <p> + “Hi! Where you be?” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” was the answer. “Here, by the front door.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey? Oh, all right. Stay where you be. I'll be there pretty soon.” + </p> + <p> + The “pretty soon” was not very soon. Mrs. Barnes began to lose patience. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't goin' to roost on this step till mornin',” she declared. “I'm + goin' inside. Ain't that a bell handle on your side of the door, Emily? + Give it a pull, for mercy sakes!” + </p> + <p> + “But, Auntie—” + </p> + <p> + “Give it a pull, I tell you! I don't know who lives here and I don't care. + If 'twas the President of the United States he'd have to turn out and let + us in this night. Here, let me do it!” + </p> + <p> + She gave the glass knob a sharp jerk. From within sounded the jingle of an + old-fashioned spring bell. + </p> + <p> + “There!” she exclaimed, “I guess they'll hear that. Anyway, I'll give 'em + one more for good measure.” + </p> + <p> + She jerked the bell again. The peal died away in a series of lessening + tinkles, but there was no other sound from within. + </p> + <p> + “They must be sound sleepers,” whispered Emily, after a moment. + </p> + <p> + “They must be dead,” declared Thankful. “There's been smashin' and + crackin' and hollerin' enough to wake up anybody that wa'n't buried. How + that wind does blow! I—Hello! here comes that man at last. About + time, I should say!” + </p> + <p> + Winnie S. appeared, bearing the lantern. + </p> + <p> + “What you doin'?” he asked. “There ain't no use ringin' that bell. + Nobody'll hear it.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful, who had just given the bell a third pull, took her hand from the + knob. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” she demanded. “It makes noise enough. I should think a graven + image would hear it. What is this, a home for deaf people?” + </p> + <p> + Winnie S. grinned. “'Tain't nobody's home, not now,” he said. “This house + is empty. Ain't nobody lived in it for 'most a year.” + </p> + <p> + The two women looked at each other. Mrs. Barnes drew along breath. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she observed, “if this ain't the last straw. Such a cruise as + we've had; and finally be shipwrecked right in front of a house and find + it's an empty one! Don't talk to ME! Well,” sharply, “what shall we do + next?” + </p> + <p> + The driver shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Stay? Where'll we stay; out here in the middle of this howlin' + wilderness?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess so. Unless you want to walk the rest of the way, same's I'm + cal'latin' to. I'm goin' to unharness the horse and put him under the shed + here and then hoof it over to the village and get somebody to come and + help. You can come along if you want to, but it'll be a tougher v'yage + than the one we've come through.” + </p> + <p> + “How far off is this—this village of yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, about a mile and a half!” + </p> + <p> + “A mile and a half! And it's beginnin' to rain again! Emily, I don't know + how you feel, but if the horse can wait under the shed until somebody + comes I guess we can. I say let's do it.” + </p> + <p> + Emily nodded. “Of course, Auntie,” she said, emphatically. “We couldn't + walk a mile and a half in a storm like this. Of course we must wait. Where + is the shed?” + </p> + <p> + Winnie S. led the way to the shed. It was a ramshackle affair, open on one + side. General Jackson, tethered to a rusty ring at the back, whinnied a + welcome. + </p> + <p> + The driver, holding the lantern aloft, looked about him. His two + passengers looked also. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” observed Thankful, “this may have been a shed once, but it's more + like a sieve now. There's more leaks to the roof than there is boards, + enough sight. However, any port in a storm, and we've got the storm, + sartin. All right, Mister What's-your-name, we'll wait.” + </p> + <p> + Winnie S. turned away. Then he turned back again. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I'd better leave you the lantern,” he said, doubtfully. “I guess + likely I could get along without it and—and 'twould make it more + sociable for you.” + </p> + <p> + He put the lantern down on the earth floor beside them and strode off into + the dark. Mrs. Barnes called after him. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't there any way of gettin' into that house?” she asked. “It acts as + if 'twas goin' to storm hard as ever and this shed ain't the most—what + did you call it?—sociable place in creation, in spite of the + lantern. If we could only get inside that house—” + </p> + <p> + Winnie S. interrupted. They could not see him, but there was a queer note + in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “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'. You better wait in + the shed. I'll be back soon as ever I can.” + </p> + <p> + They heard him splashing along the road. Then a gust of wind and a torrent + of rain beating upon the leaky roof drowned all other sounds. Emily turned + to her companion. + </p> + <p> + “Auntie,” she said, “if you and I were superstitious we might think all + this, all that we've been through, was what people call a sign, a warning. + That is what ever so many South Middleboro people would say.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! if I believed in signs I'd have noticed the weather signs afore we + started. Those are all the 'signs' I believe in and I ought to have known + better than to risk comin' when it looked so threatenin'. I can't forgive + 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 better not + try to get into that house? I don't care what he meant. Give me that + lantern.” + </p> + <p> + “Auntie, where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm goin' to take an observation of those windows. Nine chances to one + they ain't all locked, and if there's one open you and I can crawl into + it. I wish we could boost the horse in, too, poor thing, but + self-preservation is the first law of nature and if he's liable to perish + it's no reason we should. I'm goin' to get into that house if such a + thing's possible.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Auntie—” + </p> + <p> + “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. And + you 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 be + back in a jiffy. Goodness me, what a puddle! Well, if you hear me holler + you'll know I'm goin' under for the third time, so come quick. Here goes!” + </p> + <p> + Lantern in hand, she splashed out into the wet, windy darkness. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + Miss Howes, left to share with General Jackson the “sociability” of the + shed, watched that lantern with faint hope and strong anxiety. She saw it + bobbing like a gigantic firefly about the walls of the house, stopping + here and there and then hurrying on. Soon it passed around the further + corner and disappeared altogether. The wind howled, the rain poured, + General Jackson stamped and splashed, and Emily shivered. + </p> + <p> + At last, just as the watcher had begun to think some serious accident had + happened to her courageous relative and was considering starting on a + relief expedition, the lantern reappeared. + </p> + <p> + “Emily!” screamed Mrs. Barnes. “Emily! Come here!” + </p> + <p> + Emily came, fighting her way against the wind. She found her cousin + standing by the corner of the house. + </p> + <p> + “I've got it,” cried Aunt Thankful, panting but triumphant. “I've got it. + One of the windows on the other side is unfastened, just as I suspicioned + it might be. I think one of us can get in if t'other helps.” + </p> + <p> + She seized the arm of her fellow castaway and together they turned the + corner, struggled on for a short distance and then stopped. + </p> + <p> + “This is the window,” gasped the widow. “Here, right abreast of us. See!” + </p> + <p> + She held up the lantern. The window was “abreast” of them, but also it was + a trifle high. + </p> + <p> + “It ain't fastened,” shouted Thankful; she was obliged to shout in order + to be heard. “I could push it open a little mite from the bottom, but I + couldn't reach to get it up all the way. You can if I steady you, I guess. + Here! Put your foot on that box. I lugged it around from the back yard on + purpose.” + </p> + <p> + Standing on an empty and shaky cranberry crate and held there by the + strong arm of Mrs. Barnes, Emily managed to push up the lower half of the + window. The moment she let go of it, however, it fell with a tremendous + bang. + </p> + <p> + “One of the old-fashioned kind, you might know,” declared Thankful. “No + weights nor nothin'. We'll have to prop it up with a stick. You wait where + you are and I'll go get one. There's what's left of a woodpile out back + here; that's where that crate came from.” + </p> + <p> + She hastened away and was back in a moment with a stout stick. Emily + raised the window once more and placed the stick beneath it. + </p> + <p> + “There!” panted her companion. “We've got a gangway anyhow. Next thing is + to get aboard. You come down and give me a boost.” + </p> + <p> + But Emily declined. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I shan't do any such thing,” she declared, indignantly. “I can + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Her cousin demurred. “I hate to have you do it,” she said. “For anybody + that 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 better job + 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't anybody + lookin' on. . . . There! all right, are you?” + </p> + <p> + 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 what shall I + do?” + </p> + <p> + “Take this lantern and go to one of the doors and see if you can unfasten + it. Try the back door; that's the most liable to be only bolted and + hooked. The front one's probably locked with a key.” + </p> + <p> + The lantern and its bearer disappeared. Mrs. Barnes plodded around to the + back door. As she reached it it opened. + </p> + <p> + “It was only hooked,” said Emily. “Come in, Auntie. Come in quick!” + </p> + <p> + Thankful had not waited for the invitation; she was in already. She took + the lantern from her relative's hand. Then she shut the door behind her. + </p> + <p> + “Whew!” she exclaimed. “If it don't seem good to get under cover, real + cover! What sort of a place is this, anyhow, Emily?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Me? A burglar? I feel like a wet dishcloth. I never was so soaked, with + my 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 last didn't + take away all their furniture. Let's go into the front rooms.” + </p> + <p> + The first room they entered was evidently the dining-room. It was quite + bare of furniture. The next, however, that which Emily had entered by the + window, contained another stove, a ramshackle what-not, and a broken-down, + ragged sofa. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” gasped Miss Howes, pointing to the sofa, “see! see! This ISN'T an + empty house. Suppose—Oh, SUPPOSE there were people living here! What + would they say to us?” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Thankful was staggered. Then her common-sense came to her + rescue. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” she said, firmly. “A house with folks livin' in it has + somethin' in the dinin'-room besides dust. Anyhow, it's easy enough to + settle that question. Where's that door lead to?” + </p> + <p> + She marched across the floor and threw open the door to which she had + pointed. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” she sniffed. “Best front parlor. The whole shebang smells shut up + and musty enough, but there's somethin' about a best parlor smell that + would give it away any time. Phew! I can almost smell wax wreaths and + hair-cloth, even though they have been took away. No, this is an empty + 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 the front hall. + Hello! Hello, up there! Hi-i!” + </p> + <p> + She was shouting up the old-fashioned staircase. Her voice echoed above + with the unmistakable echo of empty rooms. Only that echo and the howl of + the wind and roar of rain answered her. + </p> + <p> + She came back to the apartment where she had left her cousin. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right, Emily,” she said. “We're the only passengers aboard the + derelict. Now let's see if we can't be more comf'table. You set down on + that sofa and rest. I've got an idea in my head.” + </p> + <p> + The idea evidently involved an examination of the stove, for she opened + its rusty door and peered inside. Then, without waiting to answer her + companion's questions, she hurried out into the kitchen, returning with an + armful of shavings and a few sticks of split pine. + </p> + <p> + “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 a + miracle. Matches? Oh, yes, indeed! I never travel without 'em. I've been + so used to lookin' out for myself and other folks that I'm a reg'lar man + in some ways. There! now let's see if the draft is rusted up as much as + the stove.” + </p> + <p> + It was not, apparently, for, with the dampers wide open, the fire crackled + and snapped. Also it smoked a little. + </p> + <p> + “'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 rested + and warm. I'd say get dry, too, but 'twould take a reg'lar blast furnace + to dry a couple of water rats like you and me this night. Perhaps we can + dry the upper layer, though; that'll be some help. Now, mind me! Lay right + down on that sofa.” + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + “'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 I got you, + a half invalid, as you might say, to come on this crazy trip I'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 put over you, I'd + feel better. I wonder if there's an old bed quilt or anything upstairs. + I've a good mind to go and see.” + </p> + <p> + Emily's protest was determined this time. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed you shan't!” she cried. “You shan't stir. I wouldn't have you go + prowling about this poky old place for anything. Do you suppose I could + stay down here alone knowing that you might be—might be meeting or—or + finding almost anything up there. Sit right down in that chair beside me. + Don't you think it is almost time for that driver to be back?” + </p> + <p> + “Land sakes—no! He's hardly started yet. It's goin' to take a good + long spell afore he can wade a mile and a half in such a storm as this and + get 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 got it.” + </p> + <p> + Emily shivered. “I suppose so,” she said. “And I know I am nervous and a + trial instead of a help. If you had only been alone—” + </p> + <p> + “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! Hope these old chimneys are solid.” + </p> + <p> + “Auntie, what do you suppose that man meant by saying he wouldn't enter + this house at night for anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know. Perhaps he meant he'd be afraid of bein' arrested.” + </p> + <p> + “But you don't think we'll be arrested?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, of course not. I'd be almost willin' to be arrested if they'd do + it quick. A nice, dry lock-up and somethin' to eat wouldn't be so bad, + would it? But no constable but a web-footed one would be out this night. + Now do as I say—you lay still and give your nerves a rest.” + </p> + <p> + For a few moments the order was obeyed. Then Miss Rowes said, with another + shiver: “I do believe this is the worst storm I have ever experienced.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis pretty bad, that's a fact. Do you know, Emily, if I was a believer + in signs such as mentioned a little while ago, I might almost be tempted + to believe this storm was one of 'em. About every big change in my life + has had a storm mixed up with it, comin' at the time it happened or just + afore or just after. I was born, so my mother used to tell me, on a stormy + night about like this one. And it poured great guns the day I was married. + And Eben, my husband, went down with his vessel in a hurricane off + Hatteras. And when poor Jedediah run off to go gold-diggin' there was such + a snowstorm the next day that I expected to see him plowin' his way 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 up by polar + bears, or what. One thing's sartin, he ain't made his fortune or 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 down with money, you'll + be glad to see me.'” + </p> + <p> + Jedediah Cahoon was Mrs. Barnes' only near relative, a brother. Always a + visionary, easy-going, impractical little man, he had never been willing + to stick at steady employment, but was always chasing rainbows and + depending upon his sister for a home and means of existence. When the + Klondike gold fever struck the country he was one of the first to succumb + to the disease. And, after an argument—violent on his part and + determined on Thankful's—he had left South Middleboro and gone—somewhere. + From that somewhere he had never returned. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” mused Mrs. Barnes, “those were the last words he said to me.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you say to him?” asked Emily, drowsily. She had heard the story + often enough, but she asked the question as an aid to keeping awake. + </p> + <p> + “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 I + shan't do it. I've sewed and washed and cooked for you ever since Eben + died, to say nothin' of goin' out nursin' and housekeepin' to earn money + to buy somethin' TO cook. Now I'm through. This is my house—or, at + any rate, I pay the rent for it. If you leave it to go gold-diggin' you + needn't come back to it. If you do you won't be let in.' Of course I never + thought he'd go, but he did. Ah hum! I'm afraid I didn't do right. I ought + to have realized that he wa'n't really accountable, poor, weak-headed + critter!” + </p> + <p> + Emily's eyes were fast shutting, but she made one more remark. + </p> + <p> + “Your life has been a hard one, hasn't it, Auntie,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Thankful protested. “Oh, no, no!” she declared. “No harder'n anybody + else's, I guess likely. This world has more hards than softs for the + average mortal and I never flattered myself on bein' above the average. + But there! How in the nation did I get onto this subject? You and me + settin' here on other folks's furniture—or what was furniture once—soppin' + wet through and half froze, and me talkin' about troubles that's all dead + and done with! What DID get me started? Oh, yes, the storm. I was just + thinkin' how most of the important things in my life had had bad weather + mixed up with 'em. Come to think of it, it rained the day Mrs. Pearson was + buried. And her dyin' was what set me to thinkin' of cruisin' down here to + East Wellmouth and lookin' at the property Uncle Abner left me. I've never + laid eyes on that property and I don't even know what the house looks + like. I might have asked that depot-wagon driver, but I thought 'twas no + use tellin' him my private affairs, 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!” + </p> + <p> + But Miss Howes' eyes were closed now. In spite of her wet garments and her + nervousness concerning their burglarious entry of the empty house she had + fallen asleep. Thankful did not attempt to wake her. Instead she tiptoed + to the kitchen and the woodbox, took from the latter the last few slabs of + pine wood and, returning, filled the stove to the top. Then she sat down + in the chair once more. + </p> + <p> + For some time she sat there, her hands folded in her lap. Occasionally she + glanced about the room and her lips moved as if she were talking to + herself. Then she rose and peered out of the window. Rain and blackness + and storm were without, but nothing else. She returned to the sofa and + stood looking down at the sleeper. Emily stirred a little and shivered. + </p> + <p> + That shiver helped to strengthen the fears in Mrs. Barnes' mind. The girl + was not strong. She had come home from her school duties almost worn out. + A trip such as this had been was enough to upset even the most robust + constitution. She was wet and cold. Sleeping in wet clothes was almost + sure to bring on the dreaded pneumonia. If only there might be something + in that house, something dry and warm with which to cover her. + </p> + <p> + “Emily,” said Thankful, in a low tone. “Emily.” + </p> + <p> + The sleeper did not stir. Mrs. Barnes took up the lantern. Its flame was + much less bright than it had been and the wick sputtered. She held the + lantern to her ear and shook it gently. The feeble “swash” that answered + the shake was not reassuring. The oil was almost gone. + </p> + <p> + Plainly if exploring of those upper rooms was to be done it must be done + at once. With one more glance at the occupant of the sofa Mrs. Barnes, + lantern in hand, tiptoed from the room, through the barren front hall and + up the stairs. The stairs creaked abominably. Each creak echoed like the + crack of doom. + </p> + <p> + At the top of the stairs was another hall, long and narrow, extending + apparently the whole length of the house. At intervals along this hall + were doors. One after the other Thankful opened them. The first gave + entrance to a closet, with a battered and ancient silk hat and a + pasteboard box on the shelf. The next opened into a large room, evidently + the spare bedroom. It was empty. So was the next and the next and the + next. No furniture of any kind. Thankful's hope of finding a quilt or a + wornout blanket, anything which would do to cover her sleeping and + shivering relative, grew fainter with the opening of each door. + </p> + <p> + There were an astonishing number of rooms and closets. Evidently this had + been a big, commodious and comfortable house in its day. But that day was + long past its sunset. Now the bigness only emphasized the dreariness and + desolation. Dampness and spider webs everywhere, cracks in the ceiling, + paper peeling from the walls. And around the gables and against the + dormer-windows of these upper rooms the gale shrieked and howled and + wailed like a drove of banshees. + </p> + <p> + The room at the very end of the long hall was a large one. It was at the + back of the house and there were windows on two sides of it. It was empty + like the others, and Mrs. Barnes, reluctantly deciding that her + exploration in quest of coverings had been a failure, was about to turn + and retrace her steps to the stairs when she noticed another door. + </p> + <p> + It was in the corner of the room furthest from the windows and was shut + tight. A closet, probably, and all the closets she had inspected so far + had contained nothing but rubbish. However, Thankful was not in the habit + of doing things by halves, so, the feebly sputtering lantern held in her + left hand, she opened the door with the other and looked in. Then she + uttered an exclamation of joy. + </p> + <p> + It was not a closet behind that door, but another room. A small room with + 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 a rocking + chair, and one or two pictures hanging crookedly upon the wall. Also, and + this was the really important thing, upon that bed was a patchwork + comforter. + </p> + <p> + Thankful made a dash for that comforter. She set the lantern down upon the + floor and snatched the gayly colored thing from the bed. And, as she did + so, she heard a groan. + </p> + <p> + There are always noises in an empty house, especially an old house. Creaks + and cracks and rustlings mysterious and unexplainable. When the wind blows + these noises are reenforced by a hundred others. In this particular house + on this particular night there were noises enough, goodness knows. Howls + and rattles and moans and shrieks. Every shutter and every shingle seemed + to be loose and complaining of the fact. As for groans—old hinges + groan when the wind blows and so do rickety gutters and water pipes. But + this groan, or so it seemed to Mrs. Barnes, had a different and distinct + quality of its own. It sounded—yes, it sounded human. + </p> + <p> + Thankful dropped the patchwork comforter. + </p> + <p> + “Who's that?” she asked, sharply. + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. No sounds except those of the storm. Thankful picked + up the comforter. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” she said aloud—talking to herself was a habit developed + during the years of housekeeping for deaf old Mrs. Pearson. “Humph! I must + be gettin' nerves, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + She began folding the old quilt in order to make it easier to carry + downstairs. And then she heard another groan, or sigh, or combination of + both. It sounded, not outside the window or outside the house, but in that + very room. + </p> + <p> + 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 room she + stopped and put her foot down, physically and mentally. + </p> + <p> + “Fool!” she said, disgustedly. Then, turning on her heel, she marched back + to the little bedroom and picked up the lantern; its flame had dwindled to + the feeblest of feeble sparks. + </p> + <p> + “Now then,” said Thankful, with determination, “whoever—or—or + whatever thing you are that's makin' that noise you might just as well + show yourself. If you're hidin' you'd better come out, for I'll find you.” + </p> + <p> + But no one or no “thing” came out. Thankful waited a moment and then + proceeded to give that room a very thorough looking-over. It was such a + small apartment that the process took but little time. There was no + closet. Except for the one window and the door by which she had entered, + the four walls, covered with old-fashioned ugly paper, had no openings of + any kind. There could be no attic or empty space above the ceiling because + she could hear the rain upon the sloping roof. She looked under the bed + and found nothing but dust. She looked in the bed, even under the + rocking-chair. + </p> + <p> + “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 I did—I + swear I did hear somethin'.” + </p> + <p> + The pictures on the wall by the window caught her eye. She walked over and + looked at them. The lantern gave so little light that she could scarcely + see anything, but she managed to make out that one was a dingy chromo with + a Scriptural subject. The other was a battered “crayon enlargement,” a + portrait of a man, a middle-aged man with a chin beard. There was + something familiar about the face in the portrait. Something— + </p> + <p> + Thankful gasped. “Uncle Abner!” she cried. “Why—why—” + </p> + <p> + Then the lantern flame gave a last feeble sputter and went out. She heard + the groan again. And in that room, the room she had examined so carefully, + so close as to seem almost at her very ear, a faint voice wailed + agonizingly, “Oh, Lord!” + </p> + <p> + Thankful went away. She left the comforter and the lantern upon the floor + 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 the creaky stairs. Her + entrance to the sitting-room was more noisy than her exit had been and + Miss Howes stirred upon the sofa and opened her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Auntie!” she cried, sharply. “Aunt Thankful, where are you?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm—I'm here, Emily. That is, I guess—yes, I'm here.” + </p> + <p> + “But why is it so dark? Where is the lantern?” + </p> + <p> + “The lantern?” Mrs. Barnes was trying to speak calmly but, between + agitation and loss of breath, she found it hard work. “The lantern? Why—it's—it's + gone,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Gone? What do you mean? Where has it gone?” + </p> + <p> + “It's gone—gone out. There wa'n't enough oil in it to last any + longer, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” Emily sat up. “And you've been sitting here alone in the dark while + I have been asleep. How dreadful for you! Why didn't you speak to me? Has + anything happened? Hasn't that man come back yet?” + </p> + <p> + It was the last question which Thankful answered. “No. No, he ain't come + back yet,” she said. “But he will pretty soon, I'm sure. He—he will, + Emily, don't you fret.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm not worried, Auntie. I am too sleepy to worry, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + “Sleepy! You're not goin' to sleep AGAIN, are you?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Barnes didn't mean to ask this question; certainly she did not mean + to ask it with such evident anxiety. Emily noticed the tone and wondered. + </p> + <p> + “Why, no,” she said. “I think not. Of course I'm not. But what made you + speak in that way? You're not frightened, are you?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful made a brave effort. + </p> + <p> + “Frightened!” she repeated, stoutly. “What on earth should I be frightened + of, I'd like to know?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, nothing, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “I should say not. I—Good heavens above! What's that?” + </p> + <p> + She started and clutched her companion by the arm. They both listened. + </p> + <p> + “I don't hear anything but the storm,” said Emily. “Why, Auntie, you ARE + frightened; you're trembling. I do believe there is something.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful snatched her hand away. + </p> + <p> + “There isn't,” she declared. “Of course there isn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why are you so nervous?” + </p> + <p> + “Me? Nervous! Emily Howes, don't you ever say that to me again. I ain't + nervous and I ain't goin' to be nervous. There's no—no sane reason + why I should be and I shan't. I shan't!” + </p> + <p> + “But, Auntie, you are. Oh, what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin'. Nothin' at all, I tell you. The idea!” with an attempt at a + laugh. “The idea of you thinkin' I'm nervous. Young folks like you or rich + old women are the only ones who can afford nerves. I ain't either young + nor rich.” + </p> + <p> + Emily laughed, too. This speech was natural and characteristic. + </p> + <p> + “If you were a nervous wreck,” she said, “it would be no wonder, all alone + in the dark as you have been in a deserted house like this. I can't + forgive myself for falling asleep. Whose house do you suppose it is?” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Thankful did not answer. Emily went on. Her short nap had revived her + courage and spirit. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it is a haunted house,” she said, jokingly. “Every village has a + haunted house, you know. Perhaps that's why the stage-driver warned us not + to go into it.” + </p> + <p> + To her surprise Mrs. Barnes seemed to take offense at this attempt at + humor. + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk silly,” she snapped. “If I've lived all these years and been + as down on spooks and long-haired mediums as I've been, and then to—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 got us into this mess. + There's plenty of things I'd like to say about THEM.” + </p> + <p> + They talked, in low tones. Conversation there in the dark and under such + circumstances, was rather difficult. Emily, although she was determined + not to admit it, was growing alarmed for the return of Winnie S. and his + promised rescue expedition. Aunt Thankful was thinking of the little back + bedroom upstairs. An utter lack of superstition was something upon which + she had prided herself. But now, as she thought of that room, of the + portrait on the wall, and what she had heard— + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” whispered Emily, suddenly. “Listen! I—I thought I heard + something.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Barnes leaned forward. + </p> + <p> + “What? Where? Upstairs?” she asked, breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “No. Out—out there somewhere.” She pointed in the direction of the + front hall. “It sounded as if someone had tried the front door. Hark! + There it is again.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Thankful rose to her feet. “I heard it, too,” she said. “It's + probably that driver man come back. I'll go and see.” + </p> + <p> + “No—no, Auntie, you mustn't. I—I shan't let you.” + </p> + <p> + “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's + wonderin' where we are and he's lookin' for us. I'll go let him in.” + </p> + <p> + 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 one thing + 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. + </p> + <p> + But she went, and Emily went with her. Cautiously they peered through the + little windows at the sides of the front door. There was no one in sight, + and, listening, they heard nothing. + </p> + <p> + “I—I guess we was mistaken, Emily,” whispered Thankful. “Let's go + back to the fire.” + </p> + <p> + “But Auntie, I DID hear something. Didn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + They returned to the room they had left. But they had scarcely entered it + when they stopped short and, clinging to each other, listened. + </p> + <p> + It was the latch of the kitchen door they heard click now. And the door + was opening. In the kitchen they heard the sounds of cautious footsteps, + footsteps which entered the dining-room, which came on toward the + sitting-room. And a voice, a man's voice, whispered: + </p> + <p> + “I told you so! I—I told you so! I said I see a light. And—and + that door was undone and—and—By time! Obed Bangs, you can go + on if you want to, but I tell you you're riskin' your life. I—I + ain't goin' to stay no longer. I'm goin' to fetch the constable—or—or + the minister or somebody. I—” + </p> + <p> + Another voice interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “Shut up! Belay!” it ordered. “If there's anybody or anything in this + house we'll have a look at it, that's all. You can go to the minister + afterwards, if you want to. Just now you'll come along with me if I have + to haul you by the neck. Let's see what's in here.” + </p> + <p> + There was a flash of light in the crack of the door leading from the + dining-room. That door was thrown open and the light became a blaze from a + big lantern held aloft. + </p> + <p> + “Hey! What!” exclaimed the second voice. “Who—women, by the + everlastin'!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Barnes and Emily clinging to each other, blinked in the lantern + light. + </p> + <p> + “Women! Two women!” said the voice again. + </p> + <p> + Thankful answered. The voice was real and it came from a human throat. + Anything human—and visible—she did not fear. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, crisply, “we're women. What of it? Who are you?” + </p> + <p> + The man with the lantern entered the room. He was big and broad-shouldered + and bearded. His companion was short and stout and smooth-faced; also he + appeared very much frightened. Both men wore oilskin coats and + sou'westers. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” repeated Aunt Thankful. + </p> + <p> + The big man answered. His sunburned, good-humored face was wrinkled and + puckered with amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he stammered, “I—we—Humph! well, we're neighbors and—but—but, + I don't know as I know you, ma'am, do I?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know why you should. I don't know you, fur's that goes. What are + you doin' here? Did that depot-wagon man send you?” + </p> + <p> + “Depot-wagon man? No, ma'am; nobody sent us. Kenelm—er—Mr. + Parker here, saw a light a spell ago and, bein' as this house is supposed + to be empty, he—” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute!” Miss Howes interrupted. “Whose house is this?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, it ain't anybody's house, ma'am. That is, nobody lives + here.” + </p> + <p> + “But somebody used to live here, it's likely. What was his name?” + </p> + <p> + “His name? Well, old Laban Eldredge used to live here. The house belongs + to Captain Abner Cahoon's heirs, I believe, and—” + </p> + <p> + Again Thankful interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “I knew it!” she cried, excitedly. “I wondered if it mightn't be so and + 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's Barnes, + Thankful Barnes of South Middleboro, and I'm Abner Cahoon's heir. Emily, + this—this rattle-trap you and I broke into is the 'property' we've + talked so much about.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + Emily said—well, the first thing she said was, “Oh, Aunt Thankful!” + Then she added that she couldn't believe it. + </p> + <p> + “It's so,” declared Mrs. Barnes, “whether we believe it or not. When you + come 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'd gone + to sleep. What I saw afterwards made me almost sure. I—Hum! I guess + likely that'll keep till we get to the hotel, if we ever do get there. + Perhaps Mr.—Mr.—” + </p> + <p> + “Bangs is my name, ma'am,” said the big man with the lantern. “Obed + Bangs.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Mr. Bangs. Or it's 'Cap'n Bangs,' ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + “They generally call me Cap'n, ma'am, though I ain't been doin' any active + seafarin' for some time.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought as much. Down here on Cape Cod, and givin' orders the way I + heard you afore you come into this room, 'twas nine chances to one you was + a cap'n, or you had been one. Bangs—Bangs—Obed Bangs? Why, + that name sounds kind of familiar. Seems as if—Cap'n Bangs, you + didn't use to know Eben Barnes of Provincetown, did you?” + </p> + <p> + “Eben Barnes? Cap'n Eben of the White Foam, lost off Cape Hatteras in a + gale?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's the one. I thought I heard him speak of you. He was my + husband.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed Bangs uttered an exclamation. Then he stepped forward and + seized Mrs. Barnes' hand. The lady's hand was not a very small one but the + Captain's was so large that, as Thankful remarked afterward, it might have + shaken hers twice at the same time. + </p> + <p> + “Eben Barnes' wife!” exclaimed Captain Obed. “Why, Eben and I was + messmates on I don't know how many v'yages! Well, well, well, ma'am, I'm + real glad to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “You ain't so glad as we are to see you—and your friend,” observed + Thankful, drily. “Is he a captain, too?” + </p> + <p> + He didn't look like one, certainly. He had removed his sou'wester, + uncovering a round head, with reddish-gray hair surrounding a bald spot at + the crown. He had a double chin and a smile which was apologetic but + ingratiating. He seemed less frightened than when he first entered the + room, but still glanced about him with evident apprehension. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Kenelm ain't been promoted yet,” observed Captain Obed gravely. “He's + waitin' until he get's old enough to go to sea. Ain't that it, Kenelm?” + </p> + <p> + Kenelm smiled and shifted his sou'wester from his right hand to his left. + </p> + <p> + “I—I cal'late so,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it don't make any difference,” declared Thankful. “My cousin and I + are just as glad to see him as if he was an admiral. We've been waitin' so + long to see any human bein' that we'd begun to think they was all drowned. + But you haven't met my cousin yet. Her name's Howes.” + </p> + <p> + Emily, who had stood by, patient but chilly, during the introductions and + reminiscences, shook hands with Captain Bangs and Mr. Parker. Both + gentlemen said they were pleased to meet her; no, Captain Obed said that—Kenelm + said that he was “glad to be acquaintanced.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know as we hadn't ought to beg your pardon for creepin' in on you + this way,” said the captain. “We thought the house was empty. We didn't + know you was visitin' your—your property.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, so far as that goes, neither did we. I don't wonder you expected to + find burglars or tramps or whatever you did expect. We've had an awful + time this night, ain't we, Emily?” + </p> + <p> + “We certainly have,” declared Miss Howes, with emphasis. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you see—” + </p> + <p> + She gave a brief history of the cruise and wreck of the depot-wagon. Also + of their burglarious entry of the house. + </p> + <p> + “And now, Cap'n,” she said, in conclusion, “if you could think up any way + 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!” + </p> + <p> + From without came the sound of wheels and the voice of Winnie S., hailing + his missing passengers. + </p> + <p> + “Hi! Hi-i! Where be ye?” + </p> + <p> + “He'll wear his lungs out, screamin' that way,” snapped Thankful. “Can't + he see the light, for goodness sakes?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed answered. “He couldn't see nothin' unless 'twas hung on the + end 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 shut + down on his fog whistle; he's wastin' steam. Tell him the women-folks are + in here. Look alive, now!” + </p> + <p> + Kenelm looked alive, but not much more than that. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Cap'n,” he stammered. “A—a—all right. What—what—shall + I say—what shall I—had I better—” + </p> + <p> + “Thunderation! Do you need a chart and compass? Stay where you are. I'll + say it myself.” + </p> + <p> + He strode to the window, threw it open, and shouted in a voice which had + been trained to carry above worse gales than the present one: + </p> + <p> + “Ahoy! Ahoy! Win! Fetch her around aft here. Lay alongside the kitchen + door! D'you hear? Ahoy! Win! d'you hear?” + </p> + <p> + Silence. Then, after a moment, came the reply. “Yup, I hear ye. Be right + there.” + </p> + <p> + The captain turned from the window. + </p> + <p> + “Took some time for him to let us know he heard, didn't it,” he observed. + “Cal'late he had to say 'Judas priest' four or five times afore he + answered. If you cut all the 'Judas priests' out of that boy's talk he'd + be next door to tongue-tied.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful turned to her relative. + </p> + <p> + “There, Emily,” she said, with a sigh of relief. “I guess likely we'll + make the hotel this tack. I begun to think we never would.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Bangs shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “You won't go to no hotel this night,” he said, decidedly. “It's a long + ways off and pretty poor harbor after you make it. You'll come right along + with me and Kenelm to his sister's house. It's only a little ways and + Hannah's got a spare room and she'll be glad to have you. I'm boardin' + there myself just now. Yes, you will,” he added. “Of course you will. + Suppose I'm goin' to let relations of Eben Barnes put up at the East + Wellmouth tavern? By the everlastin', I guess not! I wouldn't send a—a + Democrat there. Come right along! Don't say another word.” + </p> + <p> + Both of the ladies said other words, a good many of them, but they might + as well have been orders to the wind to stop blowing. Captain Obed Bangs + was, evidently, a person accustomed to having his own way. Even as they + were still protesting their new acquaintance led them to the kitchen door, + where Winnie S. and a companion, a long-legged person who answered to the + name of “Jabez,” were waiting on the front seat of a vehicle attached to a + dripping and dejected horse. To the rear of this vehicle “General Jackson” + was tethered by a halter. Winnie S. was loaded to the guards with + exclamatory explanations. + </p> + <p> + “Judas priest!” he exclaimed, as the captain assisted Mrs. Barnes and + Emily into the carriage. “If I ain't glad to see you folks! When I got + back here and there wa'n't a sign of you nowheres, I was took some off my + pins, I tell ye. Didn't know what to do. I says to Jabez, I says—” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed interrupted. “Never mind what you said to Jabez, Win,” he + said. “Why didn't you get back sooner? That's what we want to know.” + </p> + <p> + Winnie S. was righteously indignant. “Sooner!” he repeated. “Judas priest! + I tell ye right now I'm lucky to get back at all. Took me pretty nigh an + hour to get to the village. Such travelin' I never see. Tried to save time + by takin' the short cut acrost the meadow, and there ain't no meadow 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 hands had turned in. + I had to pretty nigh bust the door down 'fore I could wake anybody up. + Then Jabe he had to get dressed and we had to harness up and—hey? + Did you say anything, ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + The question was addressed to Mrs. Barnes, who had been vainly trying to + ask one on her own account. + </p> + <p> + “I say have you got our valises?” asked Thankful. “Last I saw of them they + was in that other wagon, the one that broke down.” + </p> + <p> + The driver slapped his knee. “Judas priest!” he cried. “I forgot all about + them satchels. Here, Jabe,” handing the reins to his companion. “You take + the hellum while I run back and fetch 'em.” + </p> + <p> + 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 the mail? + That's in there, too, ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Judas priest! So 'tis. Why didn't you remind me of it afore? Set there + like—like a wooden figurehead and let me run my legs off—” + </p> + <p> + His complaints died away in the distance. At last, with the mail bag under + the seat, the caravan moved on. It was still raining, but not so hard, and + the wind blew less fiercely. They jogged and rocked and splashed onward. + Suddenly Winnie S. uttered another shout. + </p> + <p> + “The lantern!” he cried. “Where's that lantern I lent ye?” + </p> + <p> + “It's there in the house,” said Thankful. “It burned itself out and I + forgot it. Mercy on us! You're not goin' back after that, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I dunno. That lantern belongs to the old man—dad, I mean—and + he sets a lot of store by it. If I've lost that lantern on him, let alone + leavin' his depot-wagon all stove up, he'll give me—” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind what he'll give you,” broke in Captain Bangs. “You keep on + your course or I'LL give you somethin'. Don't you say another word till we + get abreast of Hannah Parker's.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! We're there now. I thought these folks was goin' to our hotel.” + </p> + <p> + “Take my advice and don't think so much. You'll open a seam in your head + 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, if you'll + stand by. Kenelm, open that hatch.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Parker opened the hatch—the door of the carriage—and the + captain assisted the passengers to alight. Emily caught a glimpse of the + white front of a little house and of a tall, angular woman standing in the + doorway holding a lamp. Then she and Mrs. Barnes were propelled by the + strong arms of their pilot through that doorway and into a little + sitting-room, bright and warm and cheery. + </p> + <p> + “There!” declared Captain Obed. “That cruise is over. Kenelm! Where is + Kenelm? Oh, there you are! You tell that Winnie S. to trot along. We'll + settle 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, Eben + Barnes' widow. You've heard me speak of him. And this is Miss Howes. I + cal'late they're hungry and I know they're wet. Seems's if dry clothes and + supper might be the next items on the manifest.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Parker rose to the occasion. She flew about preparing the “items.” + Thankful and Emily were shown to the spare room, hot water and towels were + provided, the valise was brought in. When the ladies again made their + appearance in the sitting-room, they were arrayed in dry, warm garments, + partly their own and partly supplied from the wardrobe of their hostess. + As to the fit of these latter, Mrs. Barnes expressed her opinion when she + said: + </p> + <p> + “Don't look at me, Emily. I feel like a barrel squeezed into an umbrella + cover. This dress is long enough, land knows, but that's about all you can + say of it. However, I suppose we hadn't ought to—to look a gift + dress in the waistband.” + </p> + <p> + Supper was ready in the dining-room and thither they were piloted by + Kenelm, whose hair, what there was of it, was elaborately “slicked down,” + and whose celluloid collar had evidently received a scrubbing. In the + dining-room they found Captain Bangs awaiting them. Miss Parker made her + appearance bearing a steaming teapot. Hannah, now that they had an + opportunity to inspect her, was seen to be as tall and sharp-featured as + her brother was short and round. She was at least fifteen years older than + he, but she moved much more briskly. Also she treated Kenelm as she might + have treated a child, an only child who needed constant suppression. + </p> + <p> + “Please to be seated, everybody,” she said. “Cap'n Obed, you take your + reg'lar place. Mrs. Barnes, if you'll be so kind as to set here, and Miss + Howes next to you. Kenelm, you set side of me. Set down, don't stand there + fidgetin'. WHAT did you put on that necktie for? I told you to put on the + red one.” + </p> + <p> + Kenelm fingered his tie. “I—I cal'late I must have forgot, Hannah,” + he stammered. “I never noticed. This one's all right, ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + “All right! It'll have to be. You can't change it now. But, for goodness + sakes, look out it stays on. The elastic's all worn loose and it's li'ble + to drop into your tea or anywheres else. Now,” with a sudden change from a + family to a “company” manner, “may I assist you to a piece of the cold + ham, Miss Howes? I trust you are feelin' quite restored to yourself + again?” + </p> + <p> + Emily's answer being in the affirmative, their hostess continued: + </p> + <p> + “I'm so sorry to be obliged to set nothin' but cold ham and toast and tea + before you,” she said. “If I had known you was comin' I should have + prepared somethin' more fittin'. After such an experience as you must have + been through this night to set down to ham and toast! I—I declare I + feel real debilitated and ashamed to offer 'em to you.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful answered. + </p> + <p> + “Don't say a word, Miss Parker,” she said, heartily. “We're the ones that + ought to be ashamed. Landin' on you this way in the middle of the night. + You're awfully good to take us in at all. My cousin and I were on our way + to the hotel, but Cap'n Bangs wouldn't hear of it. He's responsible for + our comin' here.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Parker nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Cap'n Obed is the most hospital soul livin',” she said, grandly. “He done + just right. If he'd done anything else Kenelm and I would have felt hurt. + 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 your + plate.” + </p> + <p> + Kenelm snapped the loop of the “made” tie over his collar button. “Don't + grab at me that way, Hannah,” he protested mildly. “I'm kind of nervous + tonight, after what I've been through. 'Twouldn't have done no great harm + if I had dropped it. I could pick it up again, couldn't I?” + </p> + <p> + “You could, but I doubt if you would. You might have ate it, you're so + 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 my brother came + home and said he'd seen lights movin' around in the old Barnes' house, he + frightened us all pretty near to death. All Cap'n Obed could think of was + tramps, or thieves or somethin'. Nothin' would do but he must drag Kenelm + right back to see who or what was in there. And I was left alone to + imagine all sorts of dreadful things. Tramps I might stand. They belong to + this world, anyhow. But in THAT house, at eleven o'clock at night, I—Mrs. + Barnes, do you believe in aberrations?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful was nonplused. “In—in which?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “In aberrations, spirits of dead folks comin' alive again?” + </p> + <p> + For just a moment Mrs. Barnes hesitated. Then she glanced at Emily, who + was trying hard not to smile, and answered, with decision: “No, I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't either, so far as that goes. I never see one myself, and + I've never seen anybody that has. But when Kenelm came tearin' in to say + he'd seen a light in a house shut up as long as that one has been, and a + house that folks—” + </p> + <p> + Captain Bangs interrupted. He had been regarding Thankful closely and now + he changed the subject. + </p> + <p> + “How did it happen you saw that light, Kenelm?” he asked. “What was you + doin' over in that direction a night like this?” + </p> + <p> + Kenelm hesitated. He seemed to find it difficult to answer. + </p> + <p> + “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 Lemuel Ryder, 'Lem,' I says—” + </p> + <p> + His sister broke in. + </p> + <p> + “Lem Ryder!” she repeated. “Was he at the post-office?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—well—” Kenelm's confusion was more marked than ever. + “Well—well—” he stammered, “I see him, and I says—” + </p> + <p> + “You see him! Where did you see him? Kenelm Parker, I don't believe you + was at the postoffice at all. You was at the clubroom, that's where you + was. At that clubroom, smokin' and playin' cards with that deprivated + crowd of loafers and gamblers. Tell me the truth, now, wasn't you?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Parker's tie fell off then, but neither he nor his sister noticed it. + </p> + <p> + “Gamblers!” he snorted. “There ain't no gamblers there. Playin' a hand or + two of Californy Jack just for fun ain't gamblin'. I wouldn't gamble, not + for a million dollars.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed laughed. “Neither would I,” he observed. “Nor for two cents, + with that clubroom gang; 'twould be too much nerve strain collectin' 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 glad you did. Mrs. Barnes + and Miss Howes would have had a long session in the dark if you hadn't. + Yes, and a night at Darius Holt's hotel, which would have been a heap + worse. So you've been livin' at South Middleboro, Mrs. Barnes, have you? + Does Miss Howes live there, too?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful, very grateful for the change of topic, told of her life since + her husband's death, of her long stay with Mrs. Pearson, of Emily's + teaching school, and their trip aboard the depot-wagon. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” exclaimed Miss Parker, when she had finished, “you have been + through 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 purpose to + see. It's a mercy you wa'n't either of you hurt, climbin' in that window + the way you did. You might have broke your arms or your necks or + somethin'. Mr. Alpheus Bassett, down to the Point—a great, strong, + fleshy man, weighs close to two hundred and fifty and never sick a day 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 + his age—and he stepped on a fish and away he went. And the next + thing we hear he's in bed with his collar-bone. Did you ever hear anything + like that in your life, Miss Howes?” + </p> + <p> + 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 he stepped on—on a FISH?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, just a mackerel 'twas, and not a very big one, they tell me. At + first they was afraid 'twas the spine he'd broke, but it turned out to be + only the collar-bone, though that's bad enough.” + </p> + <p> + 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 it + didn't kill him.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Parker nodded. “That's what I say,” she declared. “And Sarah—that's + his wife—tells me the doctors are real worried because the fraction + ain't ignited yet.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful coughed and then observed that she should think they would be. + </p> + <p> + “If you don't mind,” she added, “I think it's high time all hands went to + bed. It must be way along into the small hours and if we set here any + longer it'll be time for breakfast. You folks must be tired, settin' up + this way and I'm sure Emily and I am. If we turn in now we may have a + chance to look over that precious property of mine afore we go back to + South Middleboro. I don't know, though, as we haven't seen enough of it + already. It don't look very promisin' to me.” + </p> + <p> + The captain rose from the table and, walking to the window, pushed aside + the shade. + </p> + <p> + “It'll look better tomorrow—today, I should say,” he observed. “The + storm's about over, and the wind's hauled to the west'ard. We'll have a + spell 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 view + along shore than from the front windows of that house. 'Tain't half bad, + that old house ain't. All it needs is fixin' up.” + </p> + <p> + Good nights—good mornings, for it was after two o'clock—were + said and the guests withdrew to their bedroom. Once inside, with the door + shut, Thankful and Emily looked at each other and both burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear me!” gasped the former, wiping her eyes. “Maybe it's mean to + laugh at folks that's been as kind to us as these Parkers have been, but I + never had such a job keepin' a straight face in my life. When she said she + was 'debilitated' at havin' to give us ham and toast that was funny + enough, but what come afterwards was funnier. The 'fraction' ain't + 'ignited' yet and the doctors are worried. I should think they'd be more + worried if it had.” + </p> + <p> + 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 disgracing myself. + She is a genuine Mrs. Malaprop, isn't she?” + </p> + <p> + This was a trifle too deep for Mrs. Barnes, who replied that she didn't + know, she having never met the Mrs. What's-her-name to whom her cousin + referred. “She's a genuine curiosity, this Parker woman, if that's what + you mean, Emily,” she said. “And so's her brother, though a different kind + of one. We must get Cap'n Bangs to tell us more about 'em in the mornin'. + He thinks that—that heirloom house of mine will look better in the + daylight. Well, I hope he's right; it looked hopeless enough tonight, what + I could see of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I like that Captain Bangs,” observed Emily. + </p> + <p> + “So do I. It seems as if we'd known him for ever so long. And how his + salt-water talk does take me back. Seems as if I was hearin' my father and + Uncle Abner—yes, and Eben, too—speakin'. And it is so sort of + good and natural to be callin' somebody 'Cap'n.' I was brought up amongst + cap'ns and I guess I've missed 'em more'n I realized. Now you must go to + sleep; you'll need all the sleep you can get, and that won't be much. Good + night.” + </p> + <p> + “Good night,” said Emily, sleepily. A few minutes later she said: “Auntie, + what did become of that lantern our driver was so anxious about? The last + I saw of it it was on the floor by the sofa where I was lying. But I + didn't seem to remember it after the captain and Mr. Parker came.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Barnes' reply was, if not prompt, at least conclusive. + </p> + <p> + “It's over there somewhere,” she said. “The light went out, but it ain't + likely the lantern went with it. Now you go to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Howes obeyed. She was asleep very soon thereafter. But Thankful lay + awake, thinking and wondering—yes, and dreading. What sort of a + place was this she had inherited? She distinctly did not believe in what + Hannah Parker had called “aberrations,” but she had heard something—something + strange and inexplicable in that little back bedroom. The groans might + have been caused by the gale, but no gale spoke English, or spoke at all, + for that matter. Who, or what, was it that had said “Oh Lord!” in the + darkness and solitude of that bedroom? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + Thankful opened her eyes. The sunlight was streaming in at the window. + Beneath that window hens were clucking noisily. Also in the room adjoining + someone was talking, protesting. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, Hannah,” said Mr. Parker's voice. “I tell you I don't know + where it is. If I knew I'd tell you, wouldn't I? I don't seem to remember + what I done with it.” + </p> + <p> + “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 the + postoffice—Oh, yes! To the postoffice—that's where you said + you was 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 + the lantern. But the umbrella you didn't have. Now where is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, Hannah. I—I—do seem to remember havin' had it, + but—” + </p> + <p> + “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 that umbrella was + your Christmas present and 'twas good gloria silk with a real gilt-plated + handle. I paid two dollars and a quarter for that umbrella, and I told you + never to take it out in a storm because you were likely to turn it inside + out and spile it. If I'd seen you take it last night I'd have stopped you, + but you was gone afore I missed it.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but, consarn it all, Hannah—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't swear, Kenelm. Profanity won't help you none.” + </p> + <p> + “I wa'n't swearin'. All I say is what's the use of an umbrella if you + can'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.” + </p> + <p> + “I cal'late you did. I'm goin' over to the village this mornin' and I'll + stop in at that clubhouse, myself.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I don't believe it's at the clubhouse, Hannah.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't? Why don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I don't know. I just guess it ain't, that's all. Somethin' seems + to tell me 'tain't.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it does, hey? I want to know! Hum! Was you anywheres else last night? + Answer me the truth now, Kenelm Parker. Was you anywheres else last + night?” + </p> + <p> + “Anywheres else. What do you mean by that?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean what I say. You know what I mean well enough. Was you—well, + was you callin' on anybody?” + </p> + <p> + “Callin' on anybody? CALLIN' on 'em?” + </p> + <p> + “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 out of sight + and hardly out of hearin', you—” + </p> + <p> + “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 told you 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 paddled a mile and a + quarter down to call on Abbie Larkin a night like last night? What do you + think I am—a bull frog? I wouldn't do it to see the—the Queen + of Rooshy.” + </p> + <p> + This vehement outburst seemed to have some effect. Miss Parker's tone was + more conciliatory. + </p> + <p> + “Well, all right,” she said. “I s'pose likely you didn't call on her, if + you 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 that Abbie + Larkin is so worldly she'd marry you for it in a minute. I didn't know but + you might have met her.” + </p> + <p> + “Met her! Tut—tut—tut! If that ain't—and in a typhoon + like last night! Oh, sartin, I met her! I was up here on top of + Meetin'-house Hill, larnin' her to swim in the mud puddles. You do talk so + silly sometimes, Hannah.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I do,” with a sniff. “Maybe I do, Kenelm, but you mean so much to + me. I just can't let you go.” + </p> + <p> + “Go! I ain't goin' nowheres, am I? What kind of talk's that?” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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 + have breakfast, anyhow? It's almost eight o'clock now. Ain't them + women-folks EVER goin' to turn out?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful had heard enough. She was out of bed the next instant. + </p> + <p> + “Emily! Emily!” she cried. “It's late. We must get up now.” + </p> + <p> + The voices in the sitting-room died to whispers. + </p> + <p> + “I—I can't help it,” pleaded Kenelm. “I never meant nothin'. I + thought they was asleep. And 'TIS most eight. By time, Hannah, you do pick + on me—” + </p> + <p> + A vigorous “Sshh!” interrupted him. The door between the sitting-room and + dining-room closed with a slam. Mrs. Barnes and Emily dressed hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + They gathered about the breakfast table, the Parkers, Captain Obed and the + guests. Miss Parker's “company manner” was again much in evidence and she + seemed to feel it her duty to lead the conversation. She professed to have + discovered a striking resemblance between Miss Howes and a deceased + relative of her own named Melinda Ellis. + </p> + <p> + “The more I see of you, Miss Howes,” she declared, “the more I can't help + thinkin' of poor Melindy. She was pretty and had dark eyes and hair same's + you've got, and that same sort of—of consumptic look to her. Not + that you've got consumption, I don't mean that. Only you look the way she + done, that's all. She did have consumption, poor thing. Everybody thought + she'd die of it, but she didn't. She got up in the night to take some + medicine and she took the wrong kind—toothache lotion it was and + awful powerful—and it ate right through to her diagram. She didn't + live long afterwards, poor soul.” + </p> + <p> + No one said anything for a moment after this tragic recital. Then Captain + Bangs observed cheerfully: + </p> + <p> + “Well, I guess Miss Howes ain't likely to drink any toothache lotion.” + </p> + <p> + Hannah nodded sedately. “I trust not,” she said. “But accidents do happen. + And Melindy and Miss Howes look awful like each other. You're real well, I + hope, Miss Howes. After bein' exposed the way you was last night I HOPE + you haven't caught cold. You never can tell what'll follow a cold—with + some people.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful was glad when the meal was over. She, too, was fearful that her + cousin 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 the + sunlit sea through the dining-room windows had acted like a tonic. + </p> + <p> + “Good enough!” exclaimed Captain Obed, heartily. “Then we ought to be + gettin' a bigger dose of that tonic. Mrs. Barnes, if you and Miss Howes + would like to walk over and have a look at that property of yours, now's + as good a time as any to be doin' it. I'll go along with you if I won't be + in the way.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful looked down rather doubtfully at the borrowed gown she was + wearing, but Miss Parker came to the rescue by announcing that her guests' + own garments must be dry by this time, they had been hanging by the stove + all night. So, after the change had been made, the two left the Parker + residence and took the foot-path at the top of the bluff. Captain Obed + seemed at first rather uneasy. + </p> + <p> + “Hope I ain't hurryin' you too much,” he said. “I thought maybe it would + be just as well to get out of sight of Hannah as quick as possible. She + might take a notion to come with us. I thought sure Kenelm would, but he's + gone on a cruise of his own somewheres. He hustled outdoor soon as + breakfast was over.” + </p> + <p> + Emily burst out laughing. “Excuse me, please,” she said, “but I've been + dying to do this for so long. That—that Miss Parker is the oddest + person!” + </p> + <p> + The captain grinned. “Thinkin' about that 'diagram' yarn?” he asked. “'Tis + funny when you hear it the first four or five times. Hannah Parker can get + more wrong words in the right places than anybody I ever run across. She + must have swallowed a dictionary some time or 'nother, but it ain't + digested well, I'm afraid.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful laughed, too. “You must find her pretty amusin', Cap'n Bangs,” + she said. + </p> + <p> + 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 of + tiresome when you have to set through it all winter. There! now you can + see your property, Mrs. Barnes, and ten mile either side of it. Look's + some more lifelike and cheerful than it did last night, don't it?” + </p> + <p> + It most assuredly did. They had reached the summit of a little hill and + before and behind and beneath them was a view of shore and sea that caused + Emily to utter an exclamation of delight. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she cried. “WHAT a view! What a wonderful view!” + </p> + <p> + Behind them, beyond the knoll upon which stood the little Parker house + which they had just left, at the further side of the stretch of salt + meadow with the creek and bridge, was East Wellmouth village. Along the + white sand of the beach, now garlanded with lines of fresh seaweed torn up + and washed ashore by the gale, were scattered a half dozen fishhouses, + with dories and lobster pots before them, and at the rear of these began + the gray and white huddle of houses and stores, with two white church + spires and the belfry of the schoolhouse rising above their roofs. + </p> + <p> + 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 marching majestically in, + to trip, topple and fall, one after the other, in roaring, hissing + Niagaras upon the shore. Over their raveled crests the gulls dipped and + soared. The air was clear, the breeze keen and refreshing and the salty + smell of the torn seaweed rose to the nostrils of the watchers. + </p> + <p> + To the left were barren hills, dotted with scrub, and farther on the pine + groves, with the road from Wellmouth Centre winding out from their midst. + </p> + <p> + All these things Thankful and Emily noticed, but it was on the prospect + directly ahead that their interest centered. For there, upon the slope of + the next knoll stood the “property” they had come to see and to which they + had been introduced in such an odd fashion. + </p> + <p> + Seen by daylight and in the glorious sunshine the old Barnes house did + look, as their guide said, more “lifelike and cheerful.” A big, rambling, + gray-gabled affair, of colonial pattern, a large yard before it and a + larger one behind, the tumble-down shed in which General Jackson had been + tethered, a large barn, also rather tumble-down, with henhouses and + corncribs beside it and attached to it in haphazard fashion. In the front + yard were overgrown clusters of lilac and rose bushes and, behind the + barn, was the stubble of a departed garden. Thankful looked at all these. + </p> + <p> + “So that's it,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “That's it,” said Captain Obed. “What do you think of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Well, there's enough of it, anyhow, as the little boy said about + the spring medicine. What do you think, Emily?” + </p> + <p> + Emily's answer was prompt and emphatic. + </p> + <p> + “I like it,” she declared. “It looks so different this morning. Last night + it seemed lonesome and pokey and horrid, but now it is almost inviting. + Think what it must be in the spring and summer. Think of opening those + upper windows on a summer morning and looking out and away for miles and + miles. It would be splendid!” + </p> + <p> + “Um—yes. But spring and summer don't last all the time. There's + December 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 so + desperate as I thought it might; I'll give in to that. Last night I was + about ready to sell it for the price of a return ticket to South + Middleboro. Now I guess likely I ought to get a few tradin' stamps along + with the ticket. Humph! This sartin isn't ALL Poverty Lane, is it? THAT + place wa'n't built with tradin' stamps. Who lives there?” + </p> + <p> + She was pointing to the estate adjoining the Barnes house and fronting the + sea further on. “Estate” is a much abused term and is sometimes applied to + rather insignificant holdings, but this one deserved the name. Great + stretches of lawns and shrubbery, ornamental windmill, greenhouses, + stables, drives and a towered and turreted mansion dominating all. + </p> + <p> + “I seem to have aristocratic neighbors, anyhow,” observed Mrs. Barnes. + “Whose tintype belongs in THAT gilt frame?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed chuckled at the question. + </p> + <p> + “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, if you asked me—or + him, either. That place belonged to our leadin' summer resident, Mr. + Hamilton Colfax, of New York. There's a good view from there, too, but not + as fine as this one of yours, Mrs. Barnes. When your uncle, Cap'n Abner, + bought this old house it used to set over on a part of that land there. + The cap'n didn't like the outlook so well as the one from here, so he + bought this strip and moved the house down. Quite a job movin' a house as + old as this one. + </p> + <p> + “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 like takin' + away the doughnut and leavin' nothin' but the hole. The Wellmouth Weekly + Advocate pretty nigh gave up the ghost when Mr. Colfax did. It always + cal'lated on fillin' at least three columns with the doin's of the + Colfaxes and their 'house parties' and such. All summer it told what they + did do and all winter it guessed what they was goin' to do. It ain't been + much more than a patent medicine advertisin' circular since the blow + struck. Well, have you looked enough? Shall we heave ahead and go aboard + your craft, Mrs. Barnes?” + </p> + <p> + They walked on, down the little hill and up the next, and entered the + front yard of the Barnes house. There were the marks in the mud and sand + where 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 my + bedroom window this mornin'. Guess 'twas a sort of floatin' memory of old + man Holt's remarks when he went by. That depot-wagon was an antique and + antiques are valuable these days. Want to go inside, do you?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful hesitated. “I haven't got the key,” she said. “I suppose it's at + that Badger man's in the village. You know who I mean, Cap'n Bangs.” + </p> + <p> + The captain nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Christopher S. H. Badger, tinware, groceries, real estate, boots and + shoes, and insurance,” he said. “Likewise justice of the peace and first + mate of all creation. Yes, I know Chris.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he's been in charge of this property of mine. He collected the rent + from that Mr. Eldredge who used to live here. I had a good many letters + from him, mainly about paintin' and repairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Um—hum; I ain't surprised. Chris sells paint as well as tea and + tinware. He's got the key, has he?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose he has. I ought to have gone up and got it from him.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I wouldn't fret about it. Of course we can't go in the front door + like the minister and weddin' company, but the kitchen door was unfastened + last night and I presume likely it's that way now. You haven't any + objection to the kitchen door, have you? When old Laban lived here it's a + safe bet he never used any other. Cur'ous old critter, he was.” + </p> + <p> + They entered by the kitchen door. The inside of the house, like the + outside, was transformed by day and sunshine. The rooms downstairs were + large and well lighted, and, in spite of their emptiness, they seemed + almost cheerful. + </p> + <p> + “Whose furniture is this?” asked Thankful, referring to the stove and + chair and sofa in the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + “Laban's; that is, it used to be. When he died he didn't have chick nor + child nor relation, so fur's anybody knew, and his stuff stayed right + here. There wa'n't very much of it. That is—” He hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “But, there must have been more than this,” said Thankful. “What, became + of it?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed shook his head. “You might ask Chris Badger,” he suggested. + “Chris sells antiques on the side—the high side.” + </p> + <p> + “Did old Mr. Eldredge live here ALL alone?” asked Emily. + </p> + <p> + “Yup. And died all alone, too. Course I don't mean he was alone all the + time he was sick. Most of that time he was out of his head and folks could + stay with him, but he came to himself occasional and when he did he'd fire + 'em out because feedin' 'em cost money. He wa'n't what you'd call + generous, Laban wa'n't.” + </p> + <p> + “Where did he die?” asked Thankful, who was looking out of the window. + </p> + <p> + “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 his cussin' + instead of a stove. 'Most always cussin', he was—cussin' and + groanin'.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful was silent. Emily said: “Groaning? You mean he groaned when he + was ill?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and when he was well, too. A habit of his, groanin' was. I don't + know why he done it—see himself in the lookin'-glass, maybe; that + was enough to make anybody groan. He'd groan in his sleep—or snore—or + both. He was the noisiest sleeper ever I set up with. Shall we go + upstairs?” + </p> + <p> + The narrow front stairs creaked as loudly in the daytime as they had on + the previous night, but the long hall on the upper floor was neither dark + nor terrifying. Nevertheless it was with just a suspicion of dread that + Mrs. Barnes approached the large room at the end of the hall and the small + one adjoining it. Her common-sense had returned and she was naturally + brave, but an experience such as hers had been is not forgotten in a few + hours. However, she was determined that no one should know her feelings; + therefore she was the first to enter the little room. + </p> + <p> + “Here's where Laban bunked,” said the captain. “You'd think with all the + big comf'table bedrooms to choose from he wouldn't pick out this + two-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.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful was listening, although not to their guide's remarks. She was + listening for sounds such as she had heard—or thought she had heard—on + the occasion of her previous visit to that room. But there were no such + sounds. There was the bed, the patchwork comforter, the chair and the + pictures on the walls, but when she approached that bed there came no + disturbing groans. And, by day, the memory of her fright seemed absolutely + ridiculous. For at least the tenth time she solemnly resolved that no one + should ever know how foolish she had been. + </p> + <p> + Emily uttered an exclamation and pointed. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Auntie!” she cried. “Isn't that—where did that lantern come + from?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed looked where she was pointing. He stepped forward and picked + up the overturned lantern. + </p> + <p> + “That's Darius Holt's lantern, I do believe,” he declared. “The one Winnie + S. was makin' such a fuss about last night. How in the nation did it get + up here?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful laughed. “I brought it up,” she said. “I come on a little + explorin' 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. You + ought to have seen me hurryin' along that hall to get down before you woke + up, Emily. No, come to think of it, you couldn't have seen me—'twas + too dark to see anything. . . . Well,” she added, quickly, in order to + head off troublesome questioning, “we've looked around here pretty well. + What else is there to see?” + </p> + <p> + They visited the garret and the cellar; both were spacious and not too + clean. + </p> + <p> + “If I ever come here to live,” declared Thankful, with decision, “there'll + be some dustin' and sweepin' done, I know that.” + </p> + <p> + Emily looked at her in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Come here to live!” she repeated. “Why, Auntie, are you thinking of + coming here to live?” + </p> + <p> + Her cousin's answer was not very satisfactory. “I've been thinkin' a good + many things lately,” she said. “Some of 'em was even more crazy than that + sounds.” + </p> + <p> + The inside of the house having been thus thoroughly inspected they + explored the yard and the outbuildings. The barn was a large one, with + stalls for two horses and a cow and a carriage-room with the remnants of + an old-fashioned carryall in it. + </p> + <p> + “This is about the way it used to be in Cap'n Abner's day,” said Captain + Obed. “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 and + Horribles' parades; 'twon't last for many more by the looks of it.” + </p> + <p> + “And what,” asked Thankful, “is that? It looks like a pigsty.” + </p> + <p> + They were standing at the rear of the house, which was built upon a slope. + Under the washshed, which adjoined the kitchen, was a rickety door. Beside + that door was a boarded enclosure which extended both into the yard and + beneath the washshed. + </p> + <p> + Captain Bangs laughed. “You've guessed it, first crack,” he said. “It is 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, so Labe + rigged up this contraption. That door leads into the potato cellar. Labe + fenced off half the cellar to make a stateroom for the pig. He thought as + much of that hog as if 'twas his own brother, and there WAS a sort of + family likeness.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful snorted. “A pigsty under the house!” she said. “Well, that's all + I want to know about THAT man!” + </p> + <p> + As they were returning along the foot-path by the bluff Captain Obed, who + had been looking over his shoulder, suddenly stopped. + </p> + <p> + “That's kind of funny,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “What?” asked Emily. + </p> + <p> + “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 so + quick I couldn't be sure. Humph! I guess I was mistaken, or 'twas just one + of Solon Taylor's young ones. Solon's a sort of—sort of stevedore at + the Colfax place. Lives there and takes care of it while the owners are + away. No-o; no, I don't see nobody now.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful was silent during the homeward walk. When she and Miss Howes were + alone in their room, she said: + </p> + <p> + “Emily, are you real set on gettin' back to South Middleboro tonight?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Auntie. Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you ain't I think I'd like to stay over another day. I've got an + idea in my head and, such a thing bein' kind of unusual, I'd like to keep + company with it for a spell. I'll tell you about it by and by; probably + 'twon't come to anything, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “But do you think we ought to stay here, as Miss Parker's guests? Wouldn't + it be—” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it would. We'll go over to that hotel, the one we started for + in the first place. Judgin' from what I hear of that tavern it'll be wuth + experiencin'; and—and somethin' may come of that, too.” + </p> + <p> + She would not explain further, and Emily, knowing her well, did not press + the point. + </p> + <p> + Hannah Parker protested volubly when her “company” declared its intention + of going to the East Wellmouth Hotel. + </p> + <p> + “Of course you shan't do no such thing,” she declared. “The idea! It's no + trouble at all to have you, and that hotel really ain't fit for such folks + as you to stay at. Mrs. Bacon, from Boston, stayed there one night in + 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 opened a 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 eastern Massachusetts delegate from + the State Grange. She's Grand Excited Matron. Just think of treatin' her + that way! Well, where've you been all the forenoon?” + </p> + <p> + The question was addressed to her brother, who entered the house by the + side door at that moment. Kenelm seemed a trifle confused. + </p> + <p> + “I—I been lookin' for that umbrella, Hannah,” he explained. “I knew + I must have left it somewheres 'cause—'cause, you see I—I took + it out with me last night and—and—” + </p> + <p> + “And come home without it. It wouldn't take a King Solomon to know that. + Did you find it?” + </p> + <p> + Kenelm's embarrassment appeared to increase. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he stammered, “I ain't exactly found it—but—” + </p> + <p> + “But what?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I'm cal'latin' to find it, Hannah.” + </p> + <p> + “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 I should + be scared if I was you. You'll find a way to lose it, if there is one. Oh, + dear me!” with a sudden change to a tone almost pleading. “Be you goin' to + smoke again?” + </p> + <p> + Kenelm's reply was strange for him. He scratched a match and lit his pipe + with calm deliberation. + </p> + <p> + “I'm cal'latin' to,” he said, cheerfully. And his sister, to the surprise + of Mrs. Barnes and Emily, did not utter another word of protest. + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed volunteered to accompany them to the hotel and to the store + of Mr. Badger. On the way Thankful mentioned Mr. Parker's amazing + independence in the matter of the pipe. + </p> + <p> + 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, the way he done + it is. Some time I'll tell it to you, maybe.” + </p> + <p> + The hotel—it was kept by Darius Holt, father of Winnie S.—was + no more inviting than Miss Parker's and Captain Bangs' hints had led them + to expect. But Thankful insisted on engaging a room for the night and on + returning there for dinner, supper and breakfast the following day. + </p> + <p> + “After that, we'll see,” she said. “Now let's go and make a call on that + rent collector of mine.” + </p> + <p> + 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 her cousin. He was + very polite, almost obsequiously so, and his explanations concerning the + repairs which he had found it necessary to make and the painting which he + had had done were lengthy if not convincing. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “Hum! The paint he says he put on that precious property of mine don't + show as much as you'd expect, but he used enough butter and whitewash this + morning to make up. He's a slick party, that Mr. Badger is, or I miss my + guess. His business arithmetic don't go much further than addition. + Everything in creation added to one makes one and he's the one. Mr. Chris + Badger's got jobs enough, accordin' to his sign. He won't starve if he + don't collect rents for me any more.” + </p> + <p> + The hotel dinner was neither bountiful nor particularly well cooked. The + Holts joined them at table and Winnie S. talked a good deal. He expressed + much joy at the recovery of his lantern. + </p> + <p> + “But when I see you folks in that house last night,” he said, “I thought + to myself, 'Judas priest!' thinks I. 'Them women has got more spunk than + I've got.' Gettin' into a house like that all alone in the dark—Whew! + Judas priest! I wouldn't do it!” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” asked Emily. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, just 'cause I wouldn't, I suppose. Now I don't believe in such + things, of course, but old Laban he did die there. I never heard nothin', + but they tell me—” + </p> + <p> + “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' they hear + things. I never heard nothin'. Have some more pie, Miss Howes? Huh! There + AIN'T no more, is there!” + </p> + <p> + After dinner Emily retired to her room for a nap. She did so under + protest, declaring that she was not tired, but Thankful insisted. + </p> + <p> + “If you ain't tired now you will be when the excitement's over,” she said. + “My conscience is plaguin' me enough about fetchin' you on this cruise, as + it is. Just take it as easy as you can, Emily. Lie down and rest, and + please me.” + </p> + <p> + So Emily obeyed orders and Mrs. Barnes, after drawing the curtains and + asking over and over again if her cousin was sure she was comfortable, + went out. It was late in the afternoon when she returned. + </p> + <p> + “I've been talkin' until my face aches,” she declared. “And my mind is + about made up to do—to do what may turn out to be the craziest thing + I ever DID do. I'll tell you the whole thing after supper, Emily. Let's + let my tongue have a vacation till then.” + </p> + <p> + And, after supper, which, by the way, was no better than the dinner, she + fulfilled her promise. They retired to the bedroom and Thankful, having + carefully closed the windows and door and hung a towel over the keyhole, + told of her half-formed plan. + </p> + <p> + “Emily,” she began, “I presume likely you'll feel that you'd ought to go + back 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. Now + I'll tell you why. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Emily,” she went on, “my comin' down here to East Wellmouth + wa'n't altogether for the fun of lookin' at the heirloom Uncle Abner left + me. The first thing I wanted to do was see it, but when I had seen it, and + if it turned out to be what I hoped it might be, there was somethin' 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' or keepin' 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 other folks' ailments; they + don't interest you as much as your own do. I'm sick of askin' somebody + else what they want for dinner; I'd like to get my own dinner, or, at + least, if somebody else is to eat with me, I want to decide myself what + they'll have to eat. I want to run my own house once more afore I die. And + it seems—yes, it seems to me as if here was the chance; nothin' but + a chance, and a risky one, but a chance just the same. Emily, I'm thinkin' + of fixin' up Uncle Abner's old rattletrap and openin' a boardin'-house for + summer folks in it. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; I know,” she continued, noticing the expression on her + companion's face. “There's as much objection to the plan as there is slack + 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 cranberry bog 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 and clear, but, on account of its + location and the view, Cap'n Bangs tells me it's worth consider'ble more + than I thought it was. I believe—yes, I do believe I could put a + mortgage on it for enough to pay for the fixin' over, maybe more.” + </p> + <p> + Emily interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “But, Auntie,” she said, “a mortgage is a debt, isn't it? A debt that must + be paid. And if you borrow from a stranger—” + </p> + <p> + “Just a minute, Emily. Course a mortgage is a debt, but it's a debt on the + house and land and, if worse comes to worst, the house and land can go to + pay for it. And I don't mean to borrow from a stranger, if I can help it. + I've got a relation down here on the Cape, although he's a pretty fur-off, + round-the-corner relation, third cousin, or somethin' like that. His + name's Solomon Cobb and he lives over to Trumet, about nine mile from + here, so Cap'n Bangs says. And he and Uncle Abner used to sail together + for years. He was mate aboard the schooner when Uncle Abner died on a + v'yage from Charleston home. This Cobb man is a tight-fisted old bachelor, + they say, but his milk of human kindness may not be all skimmed. And, + anyhow, he does take mortgages; that's the heft of his business—I + got that from the cap'n without tellin' him what I wanted to know for.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Howes smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You and Captain Bangs have been putting your heads together, I see,” she + said. + </p> + <p> + “Um—hm. And his head ain't all mush and seeds like a pumpkin, if I'm + any judge. The cap'n tells me that east Wellmouth needs a good summer + boardin'-house. This—this contraption we're in now is the nighest + thing there is to it, and that's as far off as dirt is from soap; you can + see that yourself. 'Cordin' to Cap'n Bangs, lots and lots of city people + would come here summers if there was a respectable, decent place to go to. + 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'm + pretty sure I shall try. Now what do you think? Is your Aunt Thankful + Barnes losin' her sense—always providin' she's ever had any to lose—or + is she gettin' to be a real business woman at last?” + </p> + <p> + Emily's reply was at first rather doubtful. She raised one objection after + the other, but Mrs. Barnes was always ready with an answer. It was plain + that she had looked at her plan from every angle. And, at last, Miss + Howes, too, became almost enthusiastic. + </p> + <p> + “I do believe,” she said, “it may turn out to be a splendid thing for you, + Auntie. At least, I'm sure you will succeed if anyone can. Oh dear!” + wistfully. “I only wish it were possible for me to stay here and help with + it all. But I can't—I can't. Mother and the children need the money + and I must go back to my school.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful nodded. “Yes,” she admitted, “I suppose likely you must, for the + present. But—but if it SHOULD be a go and I SHOULD see plainer + sailin' ahead, then I'd need somebody to help manage, somebody younger and + more up-to-date than I am. And I know mighty well who I shall send for.” + </p> + <p> + They talked for a long time, but at last, after they were in bed and the + lamp was extinguished, Emily said: + </p> + <p> + “I hate to go back and leave you here, Auntie; indeed I do. I shall be so + interested and excited I shall scarcely be able to wait for your letters. + You will write just as soon as you have seen this Mr. Cobb, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sartin sure I will. I know it's goin' to be hard for you to go and + leave 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's changed + a whole lot since, gettin' a dollar from him won't be as easy as pullin' a + spoon out of a kittle of soft-soap. I'll have to do some persuadin', 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 it I'll—I swear I + don't know as I shan't give him ether. Maybe he'd take THAT if he could + get it for nothin'. Good night.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + “Well,” said Thankful, with a sigh, “she's gone, anyhow. I feel almost as + if I'd cut my anchor rope and was driftin' out of sight of land. It's + queer, ain't it, how you can make up your mind to do a thing, and then, + when you've really started to do it, almost wish you hadn't. Last night—yes, + and this mornin'—I was as set on carryin' through this plan of mine + as a body could be, but just now, when I saw Emily get aboard those cars, + it was all I could do to keep from goin' along with her.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed nodded. “Sartin,” he agreed. “That's natural enough. When I + was a youngster I was forever teasin' to go to sea. I thought my dad was + meaner than a spiled herrin' to keep on sayin' no when I said yes. But + when he did say yes and I climbed aboard the stagecoach to start for + Boston, where my ship was, I never was more homesick in my life. I was + later on, though—homesick and other kinds.” + </p> + <p> + They were standing on the station platform at Wellmouth Centre, and the + train which was taking Emily back to South Middleboro was a rapidly + moving, smoking blur in the distance. The captain, who seemed to have + taken a decided fancy to his prospective neighbor and her young relative, + had come with them to the station. Thankful had hired a horse and “open + wagon” at the livery stable in East Wellmouth and had intended engaging a + driver as well, but Captain Bangs had volunteered to act in that capacity. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't got much to do this mornin',” he said. “Fact is, I generally do + have more time on my hands than anything else this season of the year. + Later on, when I put out my fish weirs, I'm pretty busy, but now I'm a + sort of 'longshore loafer. You're figurin' to go to Trumet after you've + seen Miss Emily leave the dock, you said, didn't you? Well, I've got an + errand of my own in Trumet that might as well be done now as any time. + I'll drive you over and back if you're willin' to trust the vessel in my + hands. I don't set up to be head of the Pilots' Association when it comes + to steerin' a horse, but I cal'late I can handle any four-legged craft + you're liable to charter in East Wellmouth.” + </p> + <p> + His offer was accepted and so far he had proved a competent and able + helmsman. Now, Miss Howes having been started on her homeward way, the + next port of call was to be the office of Mr. Solomon Cobb at Trumet. + </p> + <p> + During the first part of the drive Thankful was silent and answered only + when spoken to. The parting with Emily and the sense of heavy + responsibility entailed by the project she had in mind made her rather + solemn and downcast. Captain Obed, noticing this, and suspecting the + cause, chatted and laughed, and after a time his passenger seemed to + forget her troubles and to enjoy the trip. + </p> + <p> + They jogged up the main street of Trumet until they reached the little + three-cornered “square” which is the business center of the village. Next + beyond the barbershop, which is two doors beyond the general store and + postoffice, was a little one-story building, weather-beaten and badly in + need of paint. The captain steered his “craft” up to the sidewalk before + this building and pulled up. + </p> + <p> + “Whoa!” he ordered, addressing the horse. Then, turning to Thankful, he + said: + </p> + <p> + “Here you are, ma'am. This is Sol Cobb's place.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Barnes looked at the little building. Its exterior certainly was not + inviting. The windows looked as if they had not been washed for weeks, the + window shades were yellow and crooked, and one of the panes of 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 had heard + stories of his numerous investments and business prosperity, and she could + scarcely believe this dingy establishment was his. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure, Cap'n Bangs?” she faltered. “This can't be the Solomon Cobb + I mean. He's well off and it don't seem as if he would be in an office + like this—if 'tis an office,” she added. “It looks more like a + henhouse to me. And there's no signs anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + The captain laughed. “Signs cost money,” he said. “It takes paint to make + 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 well off, + sartin. He ought to be; I never heard of him lettin' go of anything he got + hold of. Maybe you think I'm talkin' pretty free about your relation, Mrs. + Barnes,” he added, apologetically. “I hadn't ought to, I suppose, 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 may be altogether different + with his own folks.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful was still staring at the dubious and forbidding front door. + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't seem as if it could be,” she said. “But if you say so of + course 'tis.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am, I guess 'tis. That's Sol Cobb's henhouse and the old rooster + 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?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful threw aside the carriage robe and prepared to clamber from the + wagon. + </p> + <p> + “I surely am,” she declared. “That's what I came way over here for.” + </p> + <p> + The captain sprang to the ground and helped her to alight. + </p> + <p> + “I'll be right across the road at the store there,” he said. “I'll be on + the watch when you came out. I—I—” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated. Evidently there was something else he wished to say, but he + found the saying difficult. Thankful noticed the hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, what was it, Cap'n Bangs?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed fidgeted with the reins. + </p> + <p> + “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 + anywheres else I—I—well, I'm pretty well acquainted round here + on the Cape amongst the bank folks and such and I'd be real glad to—” + </p> + <p> + Thankful interrupted. She had, after much misgiving and reluctance, made + up her mind to approach her distant relative with the mortgage + proposition, but to discuss that proposition with strangers was, to her + mind, very different. She had mentioned the proposed mortgage to Emily, + but she had told no one else, not even the captain himself. And she did + not mean to tell. The boarding house plan must stand or fall according to + Mr. Cobb's reception of it. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she said, hastily. “It ain't anything important—that is, + very important.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, all right. You see—I only meant—excuse me, Mrs. Barnes. + I hope you don't think I meant to be nosey or interferin' in your + affairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I don't. You've gone to a lot of trouble on my account as 'tis, + and you've been real kind.” + </p> + <p> + The captain hurriedly muttered that he hadn't been kind at all and watched + 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 wagon seat and drove + across the road to the hitching-posts before the store. Thankful opened + the door of the “henhouse” and entered. + </p> + <p> + The interior of the little building was no mare inviting than its outside. + One room, dark, with a bare floor, and with cracked plastered walls upon + which a few calendars and an ancient map were hanging. There was a worn + wooden settee and two wooden armchairs at the front, near the stove, and + at the rear an old-fashioned walnut desk. + </p> + <p> + At this desk in a shabby, leather-cushioned armchair, sat a little old man + with scant gray hair and a fringe of gray throat whiskers. He wore + steel-rimmed spectacles and over these he peered at his visitor. + </p> + <p> + “Good mornin',” said Thankful. It seemed to her high time that someone + said something, and the little man had not opened his lips. He did not + open them even now. + </p> + <p> + “Um,” he grunted, and that was all. + </p> + <p> + “Are you Mr. Solomon Cobb?” she asked. She knew now that he was; he had + changed a great deal since she had last seen him, but his eyes had not + changed, and he still had the habit she remembered, that of pulling at his + whiskers in little, short tugs as if trying to pull them out. “Like a man + hauling wild carrots out of a turnip patch,” she wrote Emily when + describing the interview. + </p> + <p> + He did not answer the question. Instead, after another long look, he said: + </p> + <p> + “If you're sellin' books, I don't want none. Don't use 'em.” + </p> + <p> + This was so entirely unexpected that Mrs. Barnes was, for the moment, + confused and taken aback. + </p> + <p> + “Books!” she repeated, wonderingly. “I didn't say anything about books. I + asked you if you was Mr. Cobb.” + </p> + <p> + Another look. “If you're sellin' or peddlin' or agentin' or anything I + don't want none,” said the little man. “I'm tellin' you now so's you can + save your breath and mine. I've got all I want.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful looked at him and his surroundings. This ungracious and unlooked + for reception began to have its effect upon her temper; as she wrote Emily + in the letter, her “back fin began to rise.” It was on the tip of her + tongue to say that, judging by appearances, he should want a good many + things, politeness among others. But she did not say it. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't a peddler or a book agent,” she declared, crisply. “When I ask + you to buy, seems to me 'twould be time enough to say no. If you're + Solomon Cobb, and I know you are, I've come to see you on business.” + </p> + <p> + The word “business” had an effect. Mr. Cobb swung about in his chair and + regarded her fixedly. There was a slight change in his tone. + </p> + <p> + “Business, hey?” he repeated. “Well, I'm a business man, ma'am. What sort + of business is it you've got?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful did not answer the question immediately. Instead she walked + nearer to the desk. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, slowly, “you're Solomon Cobb. I should know you anywhere + now. And I ain't seen you for twenty year. I presume likely you don't know + me.” + </p> + <p> + The man of business stared harder than ever. He took off his spectacles, + rubbed them with his handkerchief, put them on and stared again. + </p> + <p> + “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. And yet + there's somethin' sort of—sort of familiar about you, now that I + look closer. Who be you?” + </p> + <p> + “My name is Thankful Barnes—now. It didn't used to be. When you knew + me 'twas Thankful Cahoon. My grandmother, on my father's side, was your + mother's own cousin. Her name was Matilda Myrick. That makes you and me + sort of distant relations, Mr. Cobb.” + </p> + <p> + If she expected this statement to have the effect of making the little man + more cordial she was disappointed. In fact, if it had any effect at all, + it was the opposite, judging by his manner and expression. His only + comments on the disclosure of kinship were a “Humph!” and a brief “Want to + know!” He stared at Thankful and she at him. Then he said: + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Barnes was astonished. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” she repeated. “What's well? What do you mean by that?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin's I know of. You said you came to see me about some business or + other. What sort of business?” + </p> + <p> + “I came to see you about gettin' some money. I need some money just now + and—” + </p> + <p> + Solomon interrupted her. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” he grunted. “I cal'lated as much.” + </p> + <p> + “You cal'lated it! For the land sakes—why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you begun by sayin' you was a relation of mine. I've got a good + many relations floatin' around loose and there ain't nary one of 'em ever + come to see me unless 'twas to get money. If I give money to all my + relations that asked for it I'd be a dum sight poorer'n I be now.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful was by this time thoroughly angry. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” she snapped. “If I'd come to you expectin' you to GIVE me any + money I'd be an idiot as well as a relation. Far's that last part goes I + ain't any prouder of it than you are.” + </p> + <p> + This pointed remark had no more effect than the statement of relationship. + Mr. Cobb was quite unruffled. + </p> + <p> + “You came to see me,” he said, “and you ain't come afore for twenty year—you + said so. Now, when you do come, you want money, you said that, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin' of it, 'special. Only when a party comes to me and commences by + sayin' he or she's a relation I know what's comin' next. Relations! Humph! + My relations never done much for me.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful's fingers twitched. “'Cordin' to all accounts you never done much + for them, either,” she declared. “You don't even ask 'em to sit down. + Well, you needn't worry so far's I'm concerned. Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + She was on her way out of the office, but he called her back. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful hesitated. She was strongly tempted to go and never return. And + yet, if she did, she must go elsewhere to obtain the mortgage she wished. + And to whom should she go? Reluctantly she retraced her steps. + </p> + <p> + “Set down,” said Mr. Cobb, pulling forward a chair. “Now what is it you + want?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Barnes sat down. “I'll tell you what I don't want,” she said with + emphasis. “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' charity of you or anybody + else, Solomon Cobb. And you'd better understand that if you and I are + goin' to talk any more.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cobb tugged at his whiskers. + </p> + <p> + “You've got a temper, ain't you,” he declared. “Temper's a good thing to + 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 to give + you nor lend you money, what do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “I want you to take a mortgage on some property I own. You do take + mortgages, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + More whisker pulling. Solomon nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I do sometimes,” he admitted; “when I cal'late they're safe to take. + Where is this property of yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Over in East Wellmouth. It's the old Abner Barnes place. Cap'n Abner + willed it to me. He was my uncle.” + </p> + <p> + And at last Mr. Cobb showed marked interest. Slowly he leaned back in his + chair. His spectacles fell from his nose into his lap and lay there + unheeded. + </p> + <p> + “What? What's that you say?” he asked, sharply. “Abner Barnes was your + uncle? I—I thought you said your name was Cahoon.” + </p> + <p> + “I said it used to be afore I was married, when I knew you. Afterwards I + married Eben Barnes, Cap'n Abner's nephew. That made the captain my uncle + by marriage.” + </p> + <p> + Solomon's fingers groped for his spectacles. He picked them up and took + his handkerchief from his pocket. But it was his forehead he rubbed with + his handkerchief, not the glasses. + </p> + <p> + “You're—you're Abner Barnes' niece!” he said slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—niece by marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “The one he used to talk so much about? What was her name—Patience—Temp'rance—” + </p> + <p> + “Thankful—that's my name. I presume likely Uncle Abner did use to + talk about me. He always declared he thought as much of me as if I was his + own child.” + </p> + <p> + There was an interval of silence. Mr. Cobb replaced his spectacles and + stared through them at his visitor. His manner was peculiar—markedly + so. + </p> + <p> + “I went mate for Cap'n Abner a good many v'yages,” he said, after a + moment. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know you did.” + </p> + <p> + “He—he told you so, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “What else did he tell you; about—about me, I mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, nothin' 'special that I know of. Why? What was there to tell?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin'. Nothin' much, I guess. Abner and me was sort of—sort of + chums and I didn't know but he might have said—might have told you + considerable about me. He didn't, hey?” + </p> + <p> + “No. He told me you was his mate, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + It may have been Thankful's imagination, but it did seem as if her + relative was a trifle relieved. But even yet he did not seem quite + satisfied. He pulled at his whiskers and asked another question. + </p> + <p> + “What made you come here to me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “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 took + mortgages—at least folks said you did—and bein' as you was a + relation I thought—” + </p> + <p> + A wave of the hand interrupted her. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” broke in Solomon, hastily. “I know that. Was that the only + reason?” + </p> + <p> + “I presume likely 'twas. I did think it was a natural one and reason + enough, but I guess THAT was a mistake. It looks as if 'twas.” + </p> + <p> + She made a move to rise, but he leaned forward and detained her. + </p> + <p> + “There! there!” he said. “Set still, set still. So you're Abner Barnes' + niece?” + </p> + <p> + “My soul! I've told you so three times.” + </p> + <p> + “Abner's niece! I want to know!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I should think you might know by this time. Now about that + mortgage.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey? Oh, yes—yes! You want a mortgage on Abner's place over to East + Wellmouth. Um! Well, I know the property and about what it's wuth—which + ain't much. What are you cal'latin' to do—live there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if I can carry out the plan I've got in my head. I'm thinkin' of + fixin' up that old place and livin' in it. I'm figgerin' to run it as a + boardin'-house. It'll cost money to put it in shape and a mortgage is the + simplest way of raisin' that money, I suppose. That's the long and short + of it.” + </p> + <p> + The dealer in mortgages appeared to hear and there was no reason why he + should not have understood. But he seemed still unsatisfied, even + suspicious. The whiskers received another series of pulls and he regarded + Thankful with the same questioning stare. + </p> + <p> + “And you say,” he drawled, “that you come to me just because—” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy on us! If you don't know why I come by this time, then—” + </p> + <p> + “All right, all right. I—I'm talkin' to myself, I guess. Course you + told 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 hundred launched + every year and not more'n ten ever make a payin' v'yage. Let's hear what + your plan is, the whole of it.” + </p> + <p> + Fighting down her impatience Thankful went into details concerning her + plan. She explained why she had thought of it and her growing belief that + it might be successful. Mr. Cobb listened. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” he grunted, when she had finished. “So Obed Bangs advised you to + try it, hey? That don't make me think no better of it, as I know of. I + know Bangs pretty well.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” dryly; “I supposed likely you did. Anyhow, he said he knew you.” + </p> + <p> + “He did, hey? Told you some things about me, hey?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he didn't tell me anything except that you and he had had some + dealin's. Now, Mr. Cobb, we've talked a whole lot and it don't seem to me + we got anywheres. If you don't want to take a mortgage on that place—” + </p> + <p> + “Sshh! Who said I didn't want to take it? How do I know what I want to do + yet? Lord! How you women do go on! Suppose I should take a mortgage on + that place—mind, I don't say I will, but suppose I should—how + would I know that the mortgage would be paid, or the interest, or + anything?” + </p> + <p> + “If it ain't paid you can foreclose when the time comes, I presume likely. + As for the interest—well, I'm fairly honest, or I try to be, and + that'll be paid reg'lar if I live.” + </p> + <p> + “Ya'as. Well, fur's honesty goes, I could run a seine through Ostable + County any day in the week and load a schooner with honest folks; and + there wouldn't nary one of 'em have cash enough to pay for the wear and + tear on the net. Honesty's good policy, maybe, but it takes hard money to + pay bills.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful stood up. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” she said, decidedly, “then I'll go where they play the honest + game. And you needn't set there and weed your face any more on my + account.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cobb rose also. “There! there!” he protested. “Don't get het up. I + don't say I won't take your mortgage, do I?” + </p> + <p> + “You've said a good deal. If you say any more of the same kind you can say + it to yourself. I tell you, honest, I don't like the way you say it.” + </p> + <p> + The owner of the “hen-house” looked as if he wished very much to retort in + kind. The glare he gave his visitor prophesied direful things. But he did + not retort; nor, to her surprise, did he raise his voice or order her off + the premises. Instead his tone, when he spoke again, was quiet, even + conciliatory. + </p> + <p> + “I—I'm sorry if I've said anything I shouldn't,” he stammered. “I'm + gettin' old and—and sort of short in my talk, maybe. I—I—there's + a 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 poor fool. + I suppose they've been talkin' to you and you've got sort of prejudiced. + Well, I don't know's I blame you for that. I shan't hold no grudge. How + much of a mortgage do you cal'late to want on Abner's place?” + </p> + <p> + “Two thousand dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “Two thousand! . . . There, there! Hold on, hold on! Two thousand dollars + is a whole lot of money. It don't grow on every bush.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that as well as you do. If I did I'd have picked it afore this.” + </p> + <p> + “Um—hm. How long a time do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. Three years, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + Solomon shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Too long,” he said. “I couldn't give as long a mortgage as that to + anybody. 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 + relations as anybody does. I'd like to favor you and I will if I can. You + give me a week to think this over in and then I'll let you know what I'll + do. That's fair, ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Barnes declined the offer. + </p> + <p> + “It may be fair to you,” she said, “but I can't wait so long. I want to + settle this afore I go back to South Middleboro. And I shall go back + tomorrow, or the day after at the latest.” + </p> + <p> + Another session of “weeding.” Then said Mr. Cobb: “Well, all right, all + right. 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 day + after tomorrow forenoon. Where you stoppin' over there?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful told him. He walked as far as the door with her. + </p> + <p> + “Hope you ain't put out with me, ma'am,” he said. “I have to be kind of + sharp and straight up and down in my dealin's; they'd get the weather + gauge on me a dozen times a day if I wa'n't. But I'm real kind inside—to + them I take a notion to. I'll—I'll treat you right—er—er—Cousin + Thankful; you see if I don't. I'm real glad you come to me. Good day.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful went down the path. As she reached the sidewalk she turned and + looked back. The gentleman with the kind interior was standing peering at + her through the cracked glass of the door. He was still tugging at his + whiskers and if, as he had intimated, he had “taken a notion” to her, his + expression concealed the fact wonderfully. + </p> + <p> + 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 homeward trip. + The captain must have filled with curiosity concerning the widow's + interview with Mr. Cobb, but beyond asking if she had seen the latter, he + did not question. Thankful appreciated his reticence; the average dweller + in Wellmouth—Winnie S., for instance—would have started in on + a vigorous cross-examination. Her conviction that Captain Bangs was much + above the average was strengthened. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, “he was there. I saw him. He's a—a kind of queer + person, I should say. Do you know him real well, Cap'n Bangs?” + </p> + <p> + The captain nodded. “Yes,” he said, “I know him about as well as anybody + outside of Trumet does. I ain't sure that anybody really knows him all the + way through. Queer!” he chuckled. “Well, yes—you might say Sol Cobb + was queer and you wouldn't be strainin' the truth enough to start a plank. + He's all that and then consider'ble.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of a man is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Sol? Hum! Well, he's smart; anybody that beats Sol Cobb in a trade has + got to get up a long ways ahead of breakfast time. Might stay up all night + and then not have more leeway than he'd be liable to need.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Yes, I'm sure he's smart in business. But is he—is he a GOOD + man?” + </p> + <p> + The captain hesitated before replying. + </p> + <p> + “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 word in. + He's pious, sartin. There ain't many that report on deck at the + meetin'-house more reg'lar than he does. He don't cal'late to miss a + prayer-meetin' and when there's a revival goin' on he's right up front + with the mourners. Folks do say that his favorite hymn is 'I'm Glad + Salvation'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 and + I've heard 'em say the same thing about other people.” + </p> + <p> + “But do you think he's honest?” + </p> + <p> + “I never heard of his doin' anything against the law. He'll skin honesty + as close as he can, there ain't much hide left when he gets through; but I + cal'late he thinks he's honest. And maybe he is—maybe he is. It all + depends on the definition, same as I said. Sol's pious all right. I + cal'late he'd sue anybody that had a doubt as to how many days Josiah went + cabin passenger aboard the whale. His notion of Heaven may be a little + mite hazy, although he'd probably lay consider'ble stress on the golden + streets, but he's sot and definite about t'other place. Yes, siree!” he + added, reflectively, “Sol is sartin there's a mighty uncomf'table Tophet, + and that folks who don't believe just as he does are bound there. And he + don't mean to go himself, if 'tendin' up to meetin' 'll keep him clear. + </p> + <p> + “It's kind of queer to me,” he went on, slowly, “to see the number of + folks that make up their minds to be good—or what they call good—because + they're scared to be bad. Doin' right because right IS right, and lettin' + the Almighty credit 'em with that, because He's generally supposed to know + it's right full well as they do—that ain't enough for their kind. + They have to keep hollerin' out loud how good they are so He'll hear and + won't make any mistake in bookin' their own particular passage. Sort of + takin' out a religious insurance policy, you might say 'twas. . . . + Humph!” he added, coming out of his reverie and looking 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 thought consider'ble about such things + and I have funny ideas maybe.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful declared that she was not shocked. She had heard but little of + her driver's long dissertation. She was thinking of her interview with Mr. + Cobb and the probability of his accepting her proposal and taking a + mortgage on her East Wellmouth property. If he refused, what should she do + then? And if he accepted and she went on to carry her plan into execution, + what would be the outcome? The responsibility was heavy. She would be + risking all she had in the world. If she succeeded, well and good. If she + failed she would be obliged to begin all over again, to try for another + position as housekeeper, perhaps to “go out nursing” once more. She was + growing older; soon she would be beyond middle life and entering upon the + first stages of old age. And what a lonely old age hers 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 he ever reached that far-off country, + which was unlikely. He would have been but an additional burden upon her + had he lived and remained at home, but he would have been company for her + at least. Emily was a comfort, but she had little hope of Emily's being + able to leave her school or the family which her salary as teacher helped + to support. No, she must carry her project through alone, all alone. + </p> + <p> + She spoke but seldom and Captain Obed, noticing the change in her manner + and possibly suspecting the cause, did his best to divert her thoughts and + 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, from that to the + failure of the previous fall's cranberry crop, and from that again to + Kenelm Parker and his sister Hannah. And, after a time, Thankful realized + that he was telling a story. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + “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 into bronchitis + and pneumony, with gallopin' consumption dead ahead. You never can tell + what'll happen. + </p> + <p> + “You noticed how Hannah Parker sort of riz up when Kenelm started smokin' + yesterday? Yes, I know you did, 'cause you spoke of it. And you notice, + too, how meek and lowly she laid down and give in when he kept right on + doin' it. That ain't her usual way with Kenelm by a consider'ble sight. I + told you there was quite a yarn hitched to that smokin' business. So there + is. + </p> + <p> + “Kenelm's an old bach, you know. One time he used to work, or pretend to, + because he needed the money; but his Aunt Phoebe up to Brockton died and + left him four or five thousand dollars and he ain't worked of any account + since. He's a gentleman now, livin' on his income—and his sister. + </p> + <p> + “Hannah ain't got but precious little money of her own, but she knows how + to take care of it, which her brother don't. She was housekeepin' for some + folks at Wapatomac, but when the inheritances landed she headed straight + 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, but that didn't + make any difference. One of her pet bugaboos was that, now her brother was + well-off—'cordin' to her idea of well-offness—some designin' + woman or other would marry him for his money. Down she come, first train, + and she's been all hands and the cook, yes, and paymaster—with + Kenelm a sort of steerage passenger, ever since. She keeps watch over him + same as the sewin' circle does over the minister's wife, and it's 'No + Anchorage for Females' around that house, I can tell you. + </p> + <p> + “Another of her special despisin's—next to old maids and young + widows—used to be tobacco smoke. We had a revival preacher in East + Wellmouth that first winter and he stirred up things like a stick in a + mudhole. He was young and kind of good-lookin', with a voice like the + Skakit foghorn, and he took the sins of the world in his mouth, one after + the other, as you might say, and shook 'em same's a pup would a Sunday + bunnit. He laid into rum and rum sellin', and folks fairly got in line to + sign the pledge. 'Twas 'Come early and avoid the rush.' Got so that Chris + Badger hardly dast to use alcohol in his cigar-lighter. + </p> + <p> + “Then, havin' dried us up, that revival feller begun to smoke us out. He + preached six sermons on the evils of tobacco, and every one was hotter'n + the last. Accordin' to him, if you smoked now you'd burn later on. Lots of + the men folks threw their pipes away, and took to chewin' slipp'ry ellum. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Kenelm smoked like a peat fire. He lit up after breakfast and puffed + steadily until bedtime, only puttin' his pipe down to eat, or to rummage + in his pocket for more tobacco. Hannah got him to go to one of the + anti-tobacco meetin's. He set through the whole of it, interested as could + be. Then, when 'twas over, he stopped in the church entry to load up his + pipe, and walked home with his sister, blowin' rings and scratchin' + matches and talkin' loud about how fine the sermon was. He talked all next + day about that sermon; said he'd go every night if they'd let you smoke in + there. + </p> + <p> + “So Hannah was set back a couple of rows, but she wa'n't discouraged—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. + </p> + <p> + “'It's ruinin' your health,' she'd say. + </p> + <p> + “'Yes,' says Kenelm, lookin' solemn, 'I cal'late that's so. I've been + feelin' poorly for over a year now. Worries me consider'ble. Pass me that + plug on the top of the clock, won't you, Hannah?' + </p> + <p> + “Now what can you do with a feller like that? + </p> + <p> + “She couldn't start him with fussin' about HIS health, so she swung over + on a new tack and tried her own. She said so much smoke in the house was + drivin' her into consumption, and she worked up a cough that was a reg'lar + graveyard quickstep. I heard her practicin' it once, and, I swan, there + was harps and halos all through it! + </p> + <p> + “That cough made Kenelm set up and take notice; and no wonder. He listened + to a hundred or so of Hannah's earthquakes, and then he got up and pranced + out of the house. When he came back the doctor was with him. + </p> + <p> + “Now, this wa'n't exactly what his sister was lookin' for. She didn't want + to see the doctor. But Kenelm said she'd got to have her lungs sounded + 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 the doctor after the + examination was over and asked all kinds of questions. The doctor tried to + keep a straight face, but I guess Kenelm smelt a rat. + </p> + <p> + “Anyway, Hannah coughed for a day or two more, and then her brother come + totin' in a big bottle of med'cine. + </p> + <p> + “'There!' he says. 'That'll fix you!' + </p> + <p> + “'Where'd you get it?' says she. + </p> + <p> + “'Down to Henry Tubman's,' he says. + </p> + <p> + “'Henry Tubman! What on earth! Why, Henry Tubman's a horse doctor!' + </p> + <p> + “'I know he is,' says Kenelm, solemn as a roostin' pullet, 'but we've been + fishin' with the wrong bait. 'Tain't consumption that's ailin' you, + Hannah; you've got the heaves.' + </p> + <p> + “So Hannah didn't cough much more, 'cause, when she did, Kenelm would trot + out the bottle of horse med'cine, and chuck overboard a couple of barrels + of sarcasm. She tried openin' all the windows, sayin' she needed fresh + air, but he locked himself up in the kitchen and filled that so full of + smoke that you had to navigate it by dead reckonin'—couldn't see to + steer. So she was about ready to give up; somethin' that anybody but a + stubborn critter like her would have done long afore. + </p> + <p> + “But one afternoon she was down to the sewin' circle, and the women folks + there, havin' finished pickin' to pieces the characters of the members not + on hand, started in to go on about the revivals and how much 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 but Hannah; she could only + set there and say she'd done her best, but that Kenelm still herded with + the goats. + </p> + <p> + “They was all sorry for her, but the only one that had any advice to give + was Abbie Larkin, she that was Abbie Dillin'ham 'fore she married old 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 years afterward. + Abbie is a widow, of course, and she is middlin' good-lookin' and dresses + pretty gay. Larkin left her a little money, but I guess she'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 hardly ever got a chance. + </p> + <p> + “Well, after supper was over, Abbie gets Hannah over in a corner, and says + she: + </p> + <p> + “'Miss Parker,' says she, 'here's an advertisement I cut out of the paper + and saved a-purpose for you. I want you to look at it, but you mustn't + tell anybody I gave it to you.' + </p> + <p> + “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 to + the suff'rer unbeknownst to him, in his tea or soup or somethin', and in a + couple of shakes he'd no more smoke than he'd lend money to his + brother-in-law, or do any other ridic'lous thing. There was testimonials + from half a dozen women that had tried it, and everyone showed a clean + bill. + </p> + <p> + “Hannah read the advertisement through twice. 'Well, I never!' says she. + </p> + <p> + “'Yes,' says Abbie, and smiles. + </p> + <p> + “'Of course,' says Hannah, lookin' scornful, 'I wouldn't think of tryin' + the stuff, but I'll just take this home and read it over. It's so + curious,' she says. + </p> + <p> + “'Ain't it?' says Abbie, and smiles some more. + </p> + <p> + “So that night, when Kenelm sat by the stove, turnin' the air blue, his + sister set at the other side of the table with that advertisement hid + behind the Wellmouth Advocate readin' and thinkin'. She wrote a letter + afore she went to bed and bought a dollar's worth of stamps at the + postoffice next day. And for a week she watched the mails the way one of + these city girls does when the summer's 'most over and eight or nine of + her fellers have finished their vacations and gone back to work. + </p> + <p> + “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 and + Hannah'd been cookin' 'em up fast so's they wouldn't spile. But one night + she brings on a cranberry pie, and Kenelm turned up his nose at it. + </p> + <p> + “'More of that everlastin' sour stuff!' he snorts. 'I've et cranb'ries + till my stomach's puckered up as if it worked with a gath'rin' string. + Take it away! I don't want it!' + </p> + <p> + “'But, Kenelm, you're always so fond of cranb'ry pie.' + </p> + <p> + “'Me? It makes me shrivel just to look at it. Pass that sugar bowl, so's I + can sweeten ship.' + </p> + <p> + “Next day 'twas salt fish and potatoes that wa'n't good. He'd been teasin' + for a salt-fish dinner for ever so long, so Hannah'd fixed up this one + just to please him, but he swallered two or three knifefuls and then + looked at her kind of sad and mournful. + </p> + <p> + “'To think,' says he, 'that I've lived all these years to be p'isoned + fin'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.' + </p> + <p> + “'Course this kind of talk made Hannah mad, but she argued that 'twas the + Kill-Smudge gettin' in its work, so she put a double dose into his teacup + that night, and trusted in Providence. + </p> + <p> + “And the next day she noticed that he swallered hard between every pull at + his pipe, and when, at last, he jumped out of his chair, let out a swear + word and hove his pipe at the cat, she felt consider'ble encouraged. She + thought 'twas her duty, however, to warn him against profane language, but + the answer she got was so much more prayerful than his first remarks, that + she come about and headed for the sittin'-room quick. + </p> + <p> + “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 his + ballast shiftin', and then he give it up. And—as you might expect + from that kind of a man—he was more down on tobacco than the + Come-Outer parson himself. He even got up in revival meetin' and laid into + it hammer and tongs. He was the best 'horrible example' they had, and + Hannah was so proud of him that she couldn't sleep nights. She still stuck + to the Kill-Smudge, though—layin' in a fresh stock every once in a + while—and she dosed the tea about every other day, so's her brother + wouldn't run no danger of relapse. I'm 'fraid Kenelm didn't get any too + much joy out of his meals. + </p> + <p> + “And so everything was all right—'cordin' to Hannah's reckonin'—and + it might 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 she talked + so much about it, that Hannah got reckless and fin'lly said she'd go, too. + </p> + <p> + “The only thing that worried her was leavin' Kenelm. She hated to do it + dreadful, but he seemed tame enough and promised to change his flannels if + it got cold, and to feed the cat reg'lar, and to stay to home, and one + thing and another, so she thought 'twas safe to chance it. She cooked up a + lot of pie and frosted cake, and wrote out a kind of time-table for him to + eat and sleep by, and then cried and kissed him good-by. + </p> + <p> + “The first three days after she was gone Kenelm stayed 'round the house + and turned in early. He was feelin' fine, but 'twas awful lonesome. The + fourth day, after breakfast, he had a cravin' to smoke. Told me afterward + it seemed to him as if he MUST smoke or die of the fidgets. At last he + couldn't stand it no longer, but turned Hannah's time-table to the wall + and went out for a walk. He walked and walked and walked. It got 'most + dinner time and he had an appetite that he hadn't had afore for months. + </p> + <p> + “Just as he was turnin' into the road by the schoolhouse who should come + out on the piazza of the house on the corner but Abbie Larkin. She'd left + the door open, and the smell of dinner that blew through it was + tantalizin'. Abbie was dressed in her Sunday togs and her hair was frizzed + 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 and was layin' for + him when he come back, but she acted dreadful surprised. + </p> + <p> + “'Why, Mr. Parker!' says she, 'how DO you do? Seems's if I hadn't seen you + for an age! Ain't it dreadful lonesome at your house now your sister's + away?' + </p> + <p> + “Kenelm colored up some—he always h'isted danger signals when women + heave in sight—and agreed that 'twas kind of poky bein' all alone. + Then they talked about the weather, and about the price of coal, and about + the new plush coat Cap'n Jabez Bailey's wife had just got, and how folks + didn't see how she could afford it with Jabez out of work, and so on. And + all the time the smell of things cookin' drifted through the doorway. + Fin'lly Abbie says, says she: + </p> + <p> + “'Was you goin' home, Mr. Parker?' + </p> + <p> + “'Yes, ma'am,' says Kenelm. 'I was cal'latin' to go home and cook + somethin' for dinner.' + </p> + <p> + “'Well, there, now!' says Abbie. 'I wonder why I didn't think of it afore! + Why don't you come right in and have dinner with me? It's ALL ready and + there's plenty for two. DO come, Mr. Parker, to please ME!' + </p> + <p> + “'Course Kenelm said he couldn't, and, likewise, of course, he did. 'Twas + a smashin' dinner—chicken and mashed potatoes and mince pie, and the + 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 widow smiled and + purred and colored up and said it seemed SO good to have a man at the + table; seemed like the old days when Dan'l—meanin' the late lamented—was + on deck, and so forth. + </p> + <p> + “Then, when the eatin' was over, she says, 'I was expectin' my cousin + Benjamin 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 they + dry up.' + </p> + <p> + “Afore Kenelm could stop her she rummaged a handful of cigars out of the + table drawer in the settin'-room. + </p> + <p> + “'There!' she says. 'Light right up and be comfortable. It'll seem just + like old times. Dan'l was such a 'smoker! Oh, my!' and she gave a little + squeal; 'I forgot you've stopped smokin'.' + </p> + <p> + “Well, there was the cigars, lookin' as temptin' as a squid to a codfish; + and there was Kenelm hankerin' for 'em so his fingers twitched; and there + was Abbie lookin' dreadful disapp'inted, but tryin' to make believe she + wasn't. You don't need a spyglass to see what happened. + </p> + <p> + “'I'd like to,' says Kenelm, pickin' up one of the cigars. 'I'd like to + mighty well, but'—here he bites off the end—''twouldn't hardly + do, now would it? You see—' + </p> + <p> + “'I see,' says Abbie, scratchin' a match; 'but WE'LL never tell. We'll + have it for our secret; won't we, Mr. Parker?' + </p> + <p> + “So that's how Kenelm took his first tumble from grace. He told me all + about it one day a good while afterward. He smoked three of the cigars + afore he went home, and promised to come to supper the next afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “'You DO look so comfortable, Mr. Parker,' purrs Abbie, as sweet and + syrupy as a molasses stopper. 'It must be SUCH a comfort to a man to + smoke. I don't care WHAT the minister says, you can smoke here just as + much as you want to! It must be pretty hard to live in a house where you + can't enjoy yourself. I shouldn't think it would seem like home. A man + like you NEEDS a good home. Why, how I do run on!' + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there ain't really nothin' the matter with the Widow Larkin—so + fur's smartness is concerned, there ain't. + </p> + <p> + “And for five days more Kenelm ate his meals at Abbie's and smoked and was + happy, happier'n he'd been for months. + </p> + <p> + “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 + did mostly was to gloat over how mean and jealous they'd make the + untraveled common tribe at sewin' circle feel when they got back home. + They could just see themselves workin' on the log-cabin quilt for the next + sale, and slingin' out little reminders like, 'Land sakes! What we're + talkin' about reminds me of what Etta and me saw when we was in the + Congressional Libr'ry. YOU remember that, Etta?' And that would be Etta'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 smiles and try to + look as if trips to Washington wa'n't nothin'; THEY wouldn't go if you + hired 'em to. You know the game if you've ever been to sewin' circle. + </p> + <p> + “But all this plannin' was knocked in the head by a letter that Hannah got + on an afternoon about a week after she left home. It was short but there + was meat in it. It said: 'If you want to keep your brother from marryin' + Abbie Larkin you had better come home quick!' 'Twas signed 'A Friend.' + </p> + <p> + “Did Hannah come home? Well, didn't she! She landed at Orham the next + night. And she done some thinkin' on the way, too. She kept out of the way + of everybody and went straight up to the house. 'Twas dark and shut up, + but the back door key was under the mat, as usual, so she got in all + right. The plants hadn't been watered for two days, at least; the clock + had stopped; the cat's saucer was licked dry as a contribution box, and + the critter itself was underfoot every second, whoopin' for somethin' to + eat. The whole thing pretty nigh broke Hannah's heart, but she wa'n't the + kind to give up while there was a shot in the locker. + </p> + <p> + “She went to the closet and found that Kenelm's Sunday hat and coat was + gone. Then she locked the back door again and cut acrost the lots down to + Abbie's. She crept round the back way and peeked under the curtain at the + settin'-room window. There set Abbie, lookin' sweet and sugary. Likewise, + there was Kenelm, lookin' mighty comfortable, with a big cigar in his + mouth and more on the table side of him. Hannah gritted her teeth, but she + kept quiet. + </p> + <p> + “About ten minutes after that Chris Badger was consider'ble surprised to + hear a knock at the back door of his store and to find that 'twas Hannah + that had knocked. + </p> + <p> + “'Mr. Badger,' says Hannah, polite and smilin', 'I want to buy a box of + the best cigars you've got.' + </p> + <p> + “'Ma'am!' says Chris, thinkin' 'twas about time to send for the constable + or the doctor—one or t'other. + </p> + <p> + “'Yes,' says Hannah; 'if you please. Oh! and, Mr. Badger, please don't + tell anyone I bought 'em. PLEASE don't, to oblige me.' + </p> + <p> + “So Chris trotted out the cigars—ten cents straight, they was—and + said nothin' to nobody, which is a faculty he has when it pays to have it. + </p> + <p> + “When Kenelm came home that night he was knocked pretty nigh off his pins + to find his sister waitin' for him. He commenced a long rigmarole about + where he'd been, but Hannah didn't ask no questions. She said that + Washington 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 she + just HAD to cut the trip short. Kenelm wa'n't any too enthusiastic to hear + it. + </p> + <p> + “Breakfast next mornin' was a dream. Hannah had been up since five o'clock + gettin' it ready. There was everything on that table that Kenelm liked + '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. + </p> + <p> + “'Kenelm,' she says, 'here's somethin' I brought you that'll surprise you. + I've noticed since I've been away that about everybody smokes—senators + and judges, and even Smithsonian Institute folks. And when I see how much + comfort they get out of it, my conscience hurt me to think that I'd + deprived my brother of what he got such a sight of pleasure from. Kenelm, + you can begin smokin' again right off. Here's a box of cigars I bought on + purpose for you; they're the kind the President smokes.' + </p> + <p> + “Which wa'n't a bad yarn for a church member that hadn't had any more + practice than Hannah had. + </p> + <p> + “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 the + church 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 the ideas + of a little narrow place like East Wellmouth. + </p> + <p> + “Dinner that day was a bigger meal than breakfast, and two of the cigars + went fine after it. Kenelm hemmed and hawed and fin'lly said that he + wouldn't be home to supper; said he'd got to go downtown and would get a + bite at the Trav'lers' Rest or somewheres. It surprised him to find that + Hannah didn't raise objections, but she didn't, not a one. Just smiled and + said, 'All right,' and told him to have a good time. And Abbie's supper + didn't seem so good to him that night, and her cigars—bein' five + centers—wa'n't in it with that Washington box. + </p> + <p> + “Hannah didn't have dinner the next day until two o'clock, but 'twas worth + waitin' for. Turkey was twenty-three cents a pound, but she had one, and + plum puddin', too. She kept pressin' Kenelm to have a little more, so + 'twas after three when they got up from the table. + </p> + <p> + “'Twas a rainy, drizzly afternoon and the stove felt mighty homey and + cozy. So did the big rocker that Hannah transplanted from the parlor to + the settin'-room. That chair had been a kind of sacred throne afore, and + to set in it had been sort of sacrilegious, but there 'twas, and Kenelm + didn't object. And those President cigars certainly filled the bill. + </p> + <p> + “About half-past five Kenelm got up and looked out of the window. The rain + come spattin' against the pane and the wind whined and sounded mean. + Kenelm went back to the chair again. Then he got up and took another + observation. At last he goes back to the chair, stretches himself out, + puts his feet against the stove, pulls at the cigar, and says he: + </p> + <p> + “'I was cal'latin' to go downtown on a bus'ness trip, same's I did last + night. But I guess,' he says—'I guess I won't. It's too comfort'ble + here,' says he. + </p> + <p> + “And I cal'late,” said Captain Obed, in conclusion, “that afore Hannah + turned in that night she gave herself three cheers. She'd gained a tack on + Abbie Larkin that had put Abbie out of the race, for that time, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “But who sent the 'friend' letter?” asked Thankful, whose thoughts had + been diverted from her own troubles by hearing those of Miss Parker. + </p> + <p> + The captain laughed. + </p> + <p> + “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, naturally might + be expected to enjoy upsettin' anybody else's chance. But, at any rate, + Mrs. Barnes, the whole thing bears out what I said at the beginnin': + takin' other folks' advice about your own affairs is mighty risky. I hope, + if you do go ahead with your boardin'-house plan, it won't be because I + called it a good one.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful smiled and then sighed. “No,” she said, “if I go ahead with it + it'll be because I've made up my mind to, not on account of anybody else's + advice. I've steered my own course for quite a long spell and I sha'n't + signal for a pilot now. Well, here we are home again—or at East + Wellmouth anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “So we be. Better come right to Hannah's along with me, hadn't you? You + must have had enough of the Holt Waldorf-Astory by this time.” + </p> + <p> + But Thankful insisted upon going to the hotel and there her new friend—for + she had begun to think of him as that—left her. She informed him of + her intention to remain in East Wellmouth for another day and a half and + he announced his intention of seeing her again before she left. + </p> + <p> + “Just want to keep an eye on you,” he said. “With all of Mrs. Holt's + temptin' meals set afore you you may get gout or somethin' from + overeatin'. Either that or Winnie S.'ll talk you deef. I feel a kind of + responsibility, bein' as I'm liable to be your next-door neighbor if that + boardin'-house does start up, and I want you to set sail with a clean bill + of health. If you sight a suspicious-lookin' craft, kind of antique in + build, broad in the beam and makin' heavy weather up the hills—if + you sight that kind of craft beatin' down in this direction tomorrow + you'll know it's me. Good day.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful lay awake for hours that night, thinking, planning and + replanning. More than once she decided that she had been too hasty, that + her scheme involved too great a risk and that, after all, she had better + abandon it. But each time she changed her mind and at last fell asleep + determining not to think any more about it, but to wait until Mr. Cobb + came to accept or decline the mortgage. Then she would make a final + decision. + </p> + <p> + The next day passed somehow, though it seemed to her as if it never would, + and early the following forenoon came Solomon himself. The man of business + was driving an elderly horse which bore a faint resemblance to its owner, + being small and thin and badly in need of a hairdresser's services. If the + animal had possessed whiskers and could have tugged at them Thankful was + sure it would have done it. + </p> + <p> + Solomon tugged at his own whiskers almost constantly during that forenoon. + He and Mrs. Barnes visited the “Captain Abner place” and Solomon inspected + every inch of its exterior. For some reason or other he absolutely refused + to go inside. His conversation during the inspection was, for the most + part, sniffs and grunts, and it was not until it was ended and they stood + together at the gate, that he spoke to the point, and then only because + his companion insisted. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” said Thankful. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cobb “weeded.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “That's what I say—eh? What are you goin' to do about that mortgage, + Mr. Cobb?” + </p> + <p> + More weeding. Then: “Waal, I—I don't cal'late to want to be + unreasonable nor nothin', but I ain't real keen about takin' no mortgage + on that property; not myself, I ain't.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it is yourself I'm askin' to take it. So you won't, hey? All right; + that's all I wanted to know.” + </p> + <p> + “Now—now—now, hold on! Hold on! I ain't sayin' I WON'T take + it. I—I'd like to be accommodatin', 'specially to a relation. But—” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind the relation business. I found out what you think of 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 me have two thousand + dollars on a mortgage on this place?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cobb fidgeted. “I couldn't let you have that much,” he said. “I + couldn't. I—I—” he wrenched the next sentence loose after what + seemed a violent effort, “I might let you have half of it—a + thousand, say.” + </p> + <p> + But Thankful refused to say a thousand. That was ridiculous, she declared. + By degrees, and a hundred at a time, Solomon raised his offer to fifteen + hundred. This being the sum Mrs. Barnes had considered in the first place—and + having asked for the two thousand merely because of her judgment of human + nature—she announced that she would think over the offer. Then came + the question of time. Here Mr. Cobb was firm. Three years—two years—he + would not consider. At last he announced that he would take a one-year + mortgage on the Barnes property for fifteen hundred dollars; and that was + all he would do. + </p> + <p> + “And I wouldn't do that for nobody else,” he declared. “You bein' my + relation I don't know's it ain't my duty as a perfessin' Christian to—to + help you out. I hadn't ought to afford it, but I'm willin' to go so far.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful shook her head. “I'm glad you said, 'PROFESSIN' Christian.'” she + observed. “Well,” drawing a long breath, “then I suppose I've got to say + yes or no. . . . And I'll say yes,” she added firmly. “And we'll call it + settled.” + </p> + <p> + They parted before the hotel. She was to return to South Middleboro that + afternoon. Mr. Cobb was to prepare the papers and forward them for her + signature, after which, upon receipt of them duly signed, he would send + her the fifteen hundred dollar check. + </p> + <p> + Solomon climbed into the buggy. “Well, good-by,” he said. “I hope you'll + do fust-rate. The interest'll be paid regular, of course. I'm real pleased + to meet you—er—Cousin Thankful. Be sure you sign them papers + in 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 + East Wellmouth once in a while. Yes—yes—I'll come and see you. + You can tell me more about Captain Abner, you know. I'd—I'd like to + hear what he said to you about me. Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + That afternoon, once more in the depot-wagon, which had been refitted with + its fourth wheel, Thankful, on her way to the Wellmouth railway station, + passed her “property.” The old house, its weather-beaten shingles a cold + gray in the half-light of the mist-shrouded, sinking sun, looked lonely + and deserted. A chill wind came from the sea and the surf at the foot of + the bluff moaned and splashed and sighed. + </p> + <p> + Thankful sighed also. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” asked Winnie S. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothin' much. I wish I was a prophet, that's all. I'd like to be able + to look ahead a year.” + </p> + <p> + Winnie S. whistled. “Judas priest!” he said. “So'd I. But if I'd see + myself drivin' this everlastin' rig-out I'd wished I hadn't looked. I + don't know's I'd want to see ahead as fur's that, after all.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful sighed again. “I don't know as I do, either,” she admitted. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + 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 and chips + behind him. The last painter had spilled his last splash of paint on the + sprouting grass beneath the spotless white window sills. The last + paper-hanger had departed. Winnie S. was loading into what he called a + “truck wagon” the excelsior and bagging in which the final consignment of + new furniture had been wrapped during its journey from Boston. About the + front yard Kenelm Parker was moving, rake in hand. In the kitchen Imogene, + the girl from the Orphans' Home in Boston, who had been engaged to act as + “hired help,” was arranging the new pots and pans on the closet shelf and + singing “Showers of Blessings” cheerfully if not tunefully. + </p> + <p> + Yes, the old “Cap'n Abner place” was rejuvenated and transformed and on + the following Monday it would be the “Cap'n Abner place” no longer: it + would then become the “High Cliff House” and open its doors to hoped-for + boarders, either of the “summer” or “all-the-year” variety. + </p> + <p> + The name had been Emily Howes' choice. She and Mrs. Barnes had carried on + a lengthy and voluminous correspondence and the selection of a name had + been left to Emily. To her also had been intrusted the selection of + wallpapers, furniture and the few pictures which Thankful had felt able to + afford. These were but few, for the cost of repairing and refitting had + been much larger than the original estimate. The fifteen hundred dollars + raised on the mortgage had gone and of the money obtained by the sale of + the cranberry bog shares—Mrs. Pearson's legacy—nearly half had + gone 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 Thankful had + repented of her venture and wished she had not risked the plunge. But, + having risked it, backing out was impossible. Neither was it possible to + stop half-way. As she said to Captain Obed, “There's enough half-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 an icehouse at the + North Pole. Either this boardin'-house of mine must be the very best there + can be, price considered, or it mustn't be at all. That's the way I look + at it.” + </p> + <p> + The captain had, of course, agreed with her. His advice had been + invaluable. He had helped in choosing carpenters and painters and it was + owing to his suggestion that Mrs. Barnes had refrained from engaging an + East Wellmouth young woman to help in the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “You could find one, of course,” said the captain. “There's two or three I + could think of right off now who would probably take the job, but two out + of the three wouldn't be much account anyhow, and the only one that would + is Sarah Mullet and she's engaged to a Trumet feller. Now let alone the + prospect of Sarah's gettin' married and leavin' you 'most any time, + there's another reason for not hirin' her. She's the everlastin'est gossip + in Ostable County, and that's sayin' somethin'. What Sarah don't know + about everybody's private affairs she guesses and she always guesses out + loud. Inside of a fortnight she'd have all you ever done and a whole lot + you never thought of doin' advertised from Race P'int to Sagamore. She's a + reg'lar talkin' foghorn, if there was such a thing—only a foghorn + shuts down in clear weather and SHE don't shut down, day or night. Talks + in her sleep, I shouldn't wonder. If I was 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 of your own ship.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful, after thinking the matter over, decided that the advice was + good. The difficulty, of course, was in determining the “somewhere” from + which 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 in + Middleboro but now matron of an orphans' home in Boston. Miss Coffin's + reply was to the effect that she had, in her institution, a girl who might + in time prove to be just the sort which her friend desired. + </p> + <p> + Of course [she wrote], she isn't at all a competent servant now, but she + is bright and anxious to learn. And she is a good girl, although something + of a character. Her Christian name is Marguerite, at least she says it is. + What her other name is goodness only knows. She has been with us now for + nearly seven years. Before that she lived with and took care of a drunken + old woman who said she was the girl's aunt, though I doubt if she was. + Suppose I send her to you on trial; you can send her back to us if she + doesn't suit. It would be a real act of charity to give her a chance, and + I think you will like her in spite of her funny ways. + </p> + <p> + This doubtful recommendation caused Thankful to shake her head. She had + great confidence in Miss Coffin's judgment, but she was far from certain + that “Marguerite” would suit. However, guarded inquiries in Wellmouth and + Trumet strengthened her conviction that Captain Obed knew what he was + talking about, and, the time approaching when she must have some sort of + servant, she, at last, in desperation wrote her friend to send “the + Marguerite one” along for a month's trial. + </p> + <p> + The new girl arrived two days later. Winnie S. brought her down in the + depot-wagon, in company with her baggage, a battered old valise and an + ancient umbrella. She clung to each of these articles with a death grip, + evidently fearful that someone might try to steal them. She appeared to be + of an age ranging from late sixteen to early twenty, and had a turned-up + nose and reddish hair drawn smoothly back from her forehead and fastened + with a round comb. Her smile was of the “won't come off” variety. + </p> + <p> + Thankful met her at the back door and ushered her into the kitchen, the + room most free from workmen at the moment. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do?” said the lady. “I'm real glad to see you. Hope you had a + nice trip down in the cars.” + </p> + <p> + “Lordy, yes'm!” was the emphatic answer, accompanied by a brilliant smile. + “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 set down in + the seat alongside of me and wanted to talk. Then I didn't make believe + none, I bet you!” + </p> + <p> + “A man?” grinned Thankful. “What sort of a man?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. One of the railroad men I guess 'twas; anyhow he was a + fresh young guy, with some sort of uniform hat on. He asked me if I didn't + want him to put my bag up in the rack. He said you couldn't be too careful + of a bag like that. I told him never mind my bag; it was where it belonged + and it stayed shut up, which was more'n you could say of 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's told me enough times + to look out for strange men. Is this where I'm goin' to live, ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, yes; if you're a good girl and try hard to please and to + learn. Now—er—Marguerite—that's your name, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am, my name's Imogene.” + </p> + <p> + “Imo—which? Why! I thought you was Marguerite. Miss Coffin hasn't + sent another girl, has she?” + </p> + <p> + “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 there to + the Home they'd got kind of used to Marguerite, so 'twas easier to let it + go at that. I like Imogene lots better; I got it out of a book.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but you can't change your name like that. Isn't Marguerite your + real name?” + </p> + <p> + “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 Aunt Bridget + she called me 'Mag' when she didn't make it somethin' worse. And when I + first came to the Home the kids called me 'Fire Alarm,' 'cause my hair was + red. And the cook they had then called me 'Lonesome,' 'cause I guess I + looked that way. And the matron—not Miss Coffin, but the other one—called + me 'Maggie.' I didn't like that, so when Miss Coffin showed up I told her + I was Marguerite. But I'd rather be Imogene now, if you ain't particular, + ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “Why—um—well, I don't know's I am; only seems to me I'd settle + on one or t'other and stay put. What's your last name?” + </p> + <p> + “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, now + I'm out workin' for myself, I ought to have a last name. Maybe you can + pick one out for me, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Maybe I can. I've helped pick out first names for babies in my + time, 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 do what + I want and to please me. Will you promise me that?” + </p> + <p> + “Lordy, yes'm!” + </p> + <p> + “Um! Well, you might begin by tryin' not to say 'Lordy' quite so many + times. That would please me, for a start.” + </p> + <p> + “All right'm. I got in the habit of sayin' it, I guess. When I first come + to the Home I used to say, 'God sakes,' but the matron didn't like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy on us! I don't wonder. Well—er—Imogene, now I'll show + you the house and your room and all. I hope you like 'em.” + </p> + <p> + 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 she + clapped her hands. + </p> + <p> + “It's elegant, ma'am,” she cried. “Just grand! OH! it's too splendid to + believe 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 say and + then I'll say that. And now,” briskly, “I guess you think it's time I was + gettin' to work. All right, I can work if I ain't got no other + accomplishments. I'm all ready to begin.” + </p> + <p> + As a worker she was a distinct success. There was not a lazy bone in her + energetic body. She was up and stirring each morning at five o'clock and + she evinced an eager willingness to learn that pleased Mrs. Barnes + greatly. Her knowledge of cookery was limited, and deadly, but as Thankful + had planned to do most of the cooking herself, for the first season at + least, this made little difference. Altogether the proprietress of the + High Cliff House was growing more and more sure that her female “hired + help” was destined to prove a treasure. + </p> + <p> + “I am real glad you like it here so well, Imogene,” she said, at the end + of a fortnight. “I was afraid you might be lonesome, down here so far from + the city.” + </p> + <p> + Imogene laughed. “Who? Me?” she exclaimed. “I guess not, ma'am. Don't + catch me bein' lonesome while there's folks around I care about. I was + lonesome enough when I first came to the Home and the kids used to make + fun of me. But I ain't lonesome now, with you so kind and nice. No + indeedy! I ain't lonesome and I ain't goin' to be. You watch!” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed heartily approved of Imogene. Of Kenelm Parker as + man-of-all-work his approval was much less enthusiastic. He had been away + attending to his fish weirs, when Kenelm was hired, and the bargain was + made before he returned. It was Hannah Parker who had recommended her + brother for the position. She had coaxed and pleaded and, at last, + Thankful had consented to Kenelm's taking the place on trial. + </p> + <p> + “You'll need a nice, trustworthy man to do chores,” said Hannah. “Now + Kenelm's honest; there ain't a more honest, conscientious man in East + Wellmouth than my brother, if I do say it. Take him in the matter of that + 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 the + ordinary person would have been satisfied; but not Kenelm. No sir-ee! He + hunted and hunted till he found that umbrella and come fetchin' of it + home. 'Twas a week afore he did that, but when he did I says, 'Well,' I + says, 'you have got more stick-to-it than I thought you had. You—'” + </p> + <p> + “Where did he find it?” interrupted Thankful. + </p> + <p> + “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 and I + don't talk about it any more. But it did show that he had a sense of + responsibleness, and a good one. Anybody that'll stick to and persecute a + hunt for a lost thing the way he done will stick to a job the same way. + Don't you think so yourself, Mrs. Barnes?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful was not convinced, but she yielded. When she told Captain Bangs + he laughed and observed: “Yup, well, maybe so. Judgin' by other jobs + Kenelm's had he'll stick to this one same as he does to his bed of a + Sunday mornin'—lay down on it and go to sleep. However, I presume + likely he ought to have the chance. Of course Hannah's idea is plain + enough. Long's he's at work over here, she can keep an eye on him. And + it's a nice, satisfactory distance from the widow Larkin, too.” + </p> + <p> + So Kenelm came daily to work and did work—some. When he did not he + always had a plausible excuse. As a self-excuser he was a shining light. + </p> + <p> + Thankful had, during the repairs on the house, waited more or less + anxiously for developments concerning the mystery of the little back + bedroom. Painters and paperhangers had worked in that room as in others, + but no reports of strange sounds, or groans, or voices, had come from + there. During the week preceding the day of formal opening Thankful + herself had spent her nights in that room, but had not heard nor seen + anything unusual. She was now pretty thoroughly convinced that the storm + had been responsible for the groans and that the rest had been due to her + imagination. However, she determined to let that room and the larger one + adjoining last of all; she would take no chances with the lodgers, she + couldn't afford it. + </p> + <p> + Among the equipment of the High Cliff House or its outbuildings were a + horse, a pig, and a dozen hens and two roosters. Captain Obed bought the + horse at Mrs. Barnes' request, a docile animal of a sedate age. A + second-hand buggy and a second-hand “open wagon” he also bought. The pig + and hens Thankful bought herself in Trumet. She positively would not + consent to the pig's occupying the sty beneath the woodshed and adjoining + the potato cellar, so a new pen was built in the hollow at the rear of the + house. Imogene was tremendously interested in the live-stock. She begged + the privilege of naming each animal and fowl. Mrs. Barnes had been + encouraging the girl to read literature more substantial than the + “Fireside Companion” tales in which she had hitherto delighted, and had, + as a beginning, lent her a volume of United States history, one of several + discarded schoolbooks which Emily Howes sent at her cousin's request. + Imogene was immensely interested in the history. She had just finished the + Revolution and the effect of her reading was evident when she announced + the names she had selected. + </p> + <p> + The horse, being the most important of all the livestock, she christened + George Washington. The pig was named Patrick Henry. The largest hen was + Martha Washington. “As to them two roosters,” she explained, “I did think + I'd name the big handsome one John Hancock and the littlest one George + Three. They didn't like each other, ma'am, that was plain at the start, so + I thought they'd ought to be on different sides. But the very first 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't you think + so, ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + On the seventeenth the High Cliff House was formally opened. It was much + too early to expect “summer” boarders, but there were three of the + permanent variety who had already engaged rooms. Of these the first was + Caleb Hammond, an elderly widower, and retired cranberry grower, whose + wife had died fifteen years before and who had been “boarding around” in + Wellmouth Centre and Trumet ever since. Caleb was fairly well-to-do and + although he had the reputation of being somewhat “close” in many matters + and “sot” in his ways, he was a respected member of society. He selected a + room on the second floor—not a front room, but one on the side + looking toward the Colfax estate. The room on the other side, across the + hall, was taken by Miss Rebecca Timpson, who had taught the “upstairs” + classes in the Wellmouth school ever since she was nineteen, a + considerable period of time. + </p> + <p> + The large front rooms, those overlooking the bluff and the sea, Thankful + had intended reserving for guests from the city, but when Mr. Heman + Daniels expressed a wish to engage and occupy one of them, that on the + left of the hall, she reconsidered and Mr. Daniels obtained his desire. It + was hard to refuse a personage like Mr. Daniels anything. He was not an + elderly man; neither was he, strictly speaking, a young one. His age was, + perhaps, somewhere in the late thirties or early forties and he was East + Wellmouth's leading lawyer, in fact its only one. + </p> + <p> + Heman was a bachelor and rather good-looking. That his bachelorhood was a + matter of choice and not necessity was a point upon which all of East + Wellmouth agreed. He was a favorite with the ladies, most of them, and, + according to common report, there was a rich widow in Bayport who would + 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 said that, and it + is probable that he himself would have been the last to deny the + accusation. He was dignified and suave and gracious, also persuasive when + he chose to be. + </p> + <p> + He had been boarding with the Holts, but, like the majority of the hotel + lodgers and “mealers,” was very willing to change. The location of the + High Cliff House was, so he informed Thankful, the sole drawback to its + availability as a home for him. + </p> + <p> + “If a bachelor may be said to have a home, Mrs. Barnes,” he added, + graciously. “However, I am sure even an unfortunate single person like + myself may find a real home under your roof. You see, your reputation had + preceded you, ma'am. Ha, ha! yes. As I say, the location is the only point + which has caused me to hesitate. My—er—offices are on the Main + Road near the postoffice and that is nearly a mile from here. But, we'll + waive that point, ma'am. Six dollars a week for the room and seven for + meals, you say. Thirteen dollars—an unlucky number: Ha, ha! Suppose + we call it twelve and dodge the bad luck, eh? That would seem reasonable, + don't you think?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful shook her head. “Altogether too reasonable, Mr. Daniels, I'm + afraid,” she replied. “I've cut my rates so close now that I'm afraid + they'll catch cold in bad weather. Thirteen dollars a week may be unlucky, + but twelve would be a sight more unlucky—for me. I can let you have + a side room, of course, and that would be cheaper.” + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Daniels did not wish a side room; he desired a front room and, at + last, consented to pay the regular rate for it. But when the arrangement + was concluded Thankful could not help feeling that she had taken advantage + of an unworldly innocence. + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed Bangs, when she told him, reassured her. + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry, ma'am,” he said. “I wouldn't lay awake nights fearin' I'd + got ahead of Heman Daniels much. If you have got ahead of him you're the + only person I ever see that did, and you ought to be proud instead of + ashamed. And I'd get him to make his offer in writin' and you lock up the + writin'.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + The captain waved a protesting hand. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he declared. “I wouldn't call any lawyer a cheat. That's too + one-sided a deal to be good business. The expense of hirin' counsel is all + on one side if it ever comes to a libel suit. And besides, I don't think + Daniels is a cheat. I never heard of him doin' anything that wa'n't + legally honest. He's sharp and he's smart, but he's straight enough. I was + only jokin', Mrs. Barnes. Sometimes I think I ought to hang a lantern on + my jokes; then folks would see 'em quicker.” + </p> + <p> + 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, Captain + Bangs and Hannah Parker, and Kenelm also. It was a disappointment to + Thankful, although she kept the disappointment to herself, the fact that + the captain had not shifted what he called his “moorings” to her + establishment. She had hoped he might; she liked him and she believed him + to be just the sort of boarder she most desired. It may be that he, too, + was disappointed. What he said was: + </p> + <p> + “You see, ma'am, I've been anchorin' along with Hannah and Kenelm now for + quite a spell. They took me in when 'twas a choice between messin' at the + Holt place or eatin' grass in the back yard like King Nebuchadnezzar. + Hannah don't keep a reg'lar boardin'-house but she does sort of count on + me as one of the family, and I don't feel 'twould be right to shift—not + yet, anyhow. But maybe I can pilot other craft into High Cliff Harbor, + even if I don't call it my own home port.” + </p> + <p> + That first dinner was a bountiful meal. Miss Parker expressed the general + opinion, although it was expressed in her own way, when she said: + </p> + <p> + “My sakes alive, Mrs. Barnes! If THIS is the way you're goin' to feed your + boarders right along then I say it's remarkable. I've been up to Boston 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 to a better meal. It's + a regular Beelzebub's feast, like the one in Scriptur'—leavin' out + the writin' on the wall of course.” + </p> + <p> + Kenelm ate enough for two and then, announcing that he couldn't heave away + no more time, having work to do, retired to the rear of the barn where, + the rake beside him, he slumbered peacefully for an hour. + </p> + <p> + “There!” said Thankful to Imogene that night. “We've started anyhow. And + 'twas a good start if I do say it.” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” exclaimed Imogene. “I should say 'twas good! But if them boarders + eat as much every day as they have this one 'twon't be a start, 'twill be + a finish. Lor—I mean mercy on us, ma'am—if this is a + boardin'-house I'd like to know what a palace is. Why a king never had + better grub served to him. Huh! I guess he didn't. Old George Three used + to 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 was a tight-wad old gink, he was. Are you goin' to give these guys as + much every meal, ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean to, of course,” declared Mrs. Barnes. “Nobody shall starve at my + table. And please, Imogene, don't call people ginks and guys. That ain't + nice talk for a young woman.” + </p> + <p> + Imogene apologized and promised to be more careful. But she thought a + great deal and, at the end of the first week, she imparted her thoughts to + Captain Obed. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Captain Bangs,” she said, “do you know what is the matter with the + name of this place? I tell you what I think is the matter. It hadn't ought + to be the HIGH Cliff House. The CHEAP Cliff House would be a sight better. + Givin' guys—folks, I mean—fifteen-dollar-a-week board for + seven dollars may be mighty nice for them, but it's plaguy poor business + for Mrs. Thankful.” + </p> + <p> + The captain shook his head; he had been thinking, too, and his conclusions + were much the same. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't find fault with Mrs. Barnes, Imogene,” he said. “She's a + mighty fine woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Fine woman! You bet she is! She's too plaguy fine, that's the trouble + with her. She's so afraid her boarders'll starve that she forgets all + about makin' money. She's the best woman there is in the world, but she + needs a mean partner. Then the two of them might average up all right, I + guess.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed rubbed his chin. “Think she needs a business manager, eh?” he + observed. + </p> + <p> + Imogene nodded emphatically. “She needs two of them,” she declared. “One + to manage the place and another to keep that Parker man workin'. He can + eat more and talk more and work less than any guy ever I see. Why, he'd + spend half his time in this kitchen gassin' with me, if I'd let him. But + you bet I don't let him.” + </p> + <p> + The captain thought more and more during the days that followed. At length + he wrote a letter to Emily Howes at South Middleboro. In it he expressed + his fear that Mrs. Barnes, although in all other respects perfect, was a + too generous “provider” to be a success as a boarding-house keeper in East + Wellmouth. + </p> + <p> + 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't take the + hint, and it ain't any of my affair, rightly speaking, so I can't speak + out plain. Can't you write her a sort of warning afore it's too late? Or + better still, can't you come down here and talk to her? I wish 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's all. I wish you'd + answer this pretty prompt, if you don't mind. + </p> + <p> + But the reply he hoped for did not come and he began to fear that he had + made a bad matter worse by writing. Doubtless Miss Howes resented his + “nosing in.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful now began advertising in the Boston papers. And the answers to + the ads began to arrive. Sometimes men and women from the city came down + to inspect the High Cliff House, preparatory to opening negotiations for + summer 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 July was now + certain. But, as Imogene said to Captain Bangs, “If we lose five dollars a + week on everyone of 'em that ain't nothin' to hurrah about, seems to me.” + </p> + <p> + The captain had not piloted any new boarders to the High Cliff. Perhaps he + thought, under the circumstances, this would be a doubtful kindness. But + the time came when he did bring one there. And the happenings leading to + that result were these: + </p> + <p> + It was a day in the first week in June and Captain Obed, having business + in Wellmouth Centre, had hired George Washington, Mrs. Barnes' horse, and + the buggy and driven there. The business done he left the placid George + moored to a hitching-post by the postoffice and strolled over to the + railway station to watch the noon train come in. + </p> + <p> + The train was, of course, late, but not very late in this instance, and + the few passengers alighted on the station platform. The captain, seated + on the baggage-truck, noticed one of these passengers in particular. He + was a young fellow, smooth-faced and tall, and as, suitcase in hand, he + swung from the last car and strode up the platform it seemed to Captain + Obed as if there was something oddly familiar in that stride and the set + of his square shoulders. His face, too, seemed familiar. The captain felt + as if he should recognize him—but he did not. + </p> + <p> + He came swinging on until he was opposite the baggage-truck. Then he + stopped and looked searchingly at the bulky form of the man seated upon + it. He stepped closer and looked again. Then, with a twinkle in his quiet + gray eye, he did a most amazing thing—he began to sing. To sing—not + loudly, of course, but rather under his breath. And this is what he sang: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Said all the little fishes that swim there below: + 'It's the Liverpool packet! Good Lord, let her go!'” + </pre> + <p> + To the average person this would have sounded like the wildest insanity. + But not to Captain Obed Bangs of East Wellmouth. The captain sprang from + the truck and held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Johnnie Kendrick!” he shouted. “It's Johnnie Kendrick, I do believe! + Well, I swan to man!” + </p> + <p> + The young man laughed, and, seizing the captain's hand, shook it heartily. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad you do,” he said. “If you hadn't swanned to man I should have + been afraid there was more change in Captain Obed Bangs than I cared to + see. Captain Obed, how are you?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed shook his head. “I—I—” he stammered. “Well, I + cal'late my timbers are fairly strong if they can stand a shock like this. + Johnnie Kendrick, of all folks in the world!” + </p> + <p> + “The very same, Captain.” + </p> + <p> + “And you knew me right off! Well done for you, John! Why, it's all of + twenty odd year since you used to set on a nail keg in my boathouse and + tease me into singing the Dreadnought chanty. I remember that. Good land! + I ought to remember the only critter on earth that ever ASKED me to sing. + Ho! ho! but you was a little towheaded shaver then; and now look at you! + What are you doin' away down here?” + </p> + <p> + 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 not be + confirmed. First of all I'm going over to East Wellmouth; so just excuse + me a minute while I speak to the driver of the bus.” + </p> + <p> + He was hurrying away, but his companion caught his arm. + </p> + <p> + “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 in Winnie + S.'s—what did you call it?—bust—I'd be mighty glad to + have you make the trip along with me. No, no. 'Twon't be any trouble. Come + on!” + </p> + <p> + Five minutes later they were seated in the buggy and George Washington was + jogging with dignified deliberation along the road toward East Wellmouth. + </p> + <p> + “And why,” demanded Captain Obed, “have you come to Wellmouth again, after + all these years?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Kendrick smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Captain Bangs,” he said, “it is barely possible that I've come here + to stay.” + </p> + <p> + “To stay! You don't mean to stay for good?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that, too, is possible. Being more or less optimistic, we'll hope + that if I do stay it will be for good. I'm thinking of living here.” + </p> + <p> + His companion turned around on the seat to stare at him. + </p> + <p> + “Livin' here!” he repeated. “You? What on earth—? What are you goin' + to do?” + </p> + <p> + The passenger's eyes twinkled, but his tone was solemn enough. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, very likely,” he replied. “That's what I've been doing for some + time.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but, the last I heard of you, you was practicin' law over to + New York.” + </p> + <p> + “So I was. That, for a young lawyer without funds or influence, is as near + doing nothing as anything I can think of.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but, John—” + </p> + <p> + “Just a minute, Captain. The 'buts' are there, plenty of them. Before we + reach 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 few + things.” + </p> + <p> + He told his story. It was not the story of his life, his whole life, by + any means. The captain already knew the first part of that life. He had + known the Kendricks ever since he had known anyone. Every person in East + Wellmouth of middle age or older remembered when the two brothers, Samuel + Kendrick and Bailey Kendrick—Bailey was John's father—lived in + the village and were the “big” men of the community. Bailey was the more + important and respected at that time, for Samuel speculated in stocks a + good deal and there were seasons when he was so near bankruptcy that + gossip declared he could not pass the poorhouse without shivering. If it + had not been for his brother Bailey, so that same gossip affirmed, he + would most assuredly have gone under, but Bailey lent him money and helped + him in many ways. Both brothers were widowers and each had a son; but + Samuel's boy Erastus was fifteen years older than John. + </p> + <p> + The families moved from Wellmouth when John was six years old. They went + West and there, so it was said, the positions of the brothers changed. + Samuel's luck turned; he made some fortunate stock deals and became + wealthy. Bailey, however, lost all he had in bad mining ventures and sank + almost to poverty. Both had been dead for years now, but Samuel's son, + Erastus—he much preferred to be called E. Holliday Kendrick—was + a man of consequence in New York, a financier, with offices on Broad + Street and a home on Fifth Avenue. John, the East Wellmouth people had + last heard of as having worked his way through college and law school and + as practicing his profession in the big city. + </p> + <p> + So much Captain Bangs knew. And John Kendrick told him the rest. The road + to success for a young attorney in New York he had found hard and + discouraging. For two years he had trodden it and scarcely earned enough + to keep himself alive. Now he had decided, or practically decided, to give + up the attempt, select some small town or village and try his luck there. + East Wellmouth was the one village he knew and remembered with liking. So + to East Wellmouth he had come, to, as Captain Obed described it, “take + soundin's and size up the fishin' grounds.” + </p> + <p> + “So there you are, Captain,” he said, in conclusion. “That is why I am + here.” + </p> + <p> + The captain nodded reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “Um—yes,” he said. “I see; I see. Well, well; and you're figgerin' + on bein' a lawyer here—in East Wellmouth?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Kendrick nodded also. “It may, and probably will be, pretty close + figuring at first,” he admitted, “but at least there will be no more + ciphers in the sum than there were in my Manhattan calculations. Honestly + now, Captain Bangs, tell me—what do you think of the idea?” + </p> + <p> + The captain seemed rather dubious. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” he grunted. “Well, I don't know, John. East Wellmouth ain't a + very big place.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that. Of course I shouldn't hope to do much in East Wellmouth + alone. But it seemed to me I might do as other country lawyers have done, + have an office—or a desk—in several other towns and be in + those towns on certain days in the week. I think I should like to live in + East Wellmouth, though. It is—not to be sentimental but just + truthful—the one place I remember where I was really happy. And, as + I remember too, there used to be no lawyer there.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed's forehead puckered. + </p> + <p> + “That's just it, John,” he said. “There is a lawyer here now. Good deal of + a lawyer, too—if you ask HIM. Name's Heman Daniels. You used to know + him as a boy, didn't you?” + </p> + <p> + Kendrick nodded assent. + </p> + <p> + “I think I did,” he said. “Yes, I remember him. He was one of the big boys + when I was a little one, and he used to bully us small chaps.” + </p> + <p> + “That's the feller. He ain't changed his habits so much, neither. But he's + our lawyer and I cal'late he's doin' well.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he? Well, that's encouraging, at any rate. And he's the only lawyer + you have? Only one lawyer in a whole town. Why in New York I couldn't + throw a cigar stump from my office window without running the risk of + hitting at least two and starting two damage suits.” + </p> + <p> + The captain chuckled. + </p> + <p> + “I presume likely you didn't throw many,” he observed. “That would be + expensive fun.” + </p> + <p> + “It would,” was the prompt reply. “Cigars cost money.” + </p> + <p> + They jogged on for a few minutes in silence. Then said Captain Obed: + </p> + <p> + “Well, John, what are you plannin' to do first? After we get into port, I + mean.” + </p> + <p> + “I scarcely know. Look about, perhaps. Possibly try out a boarding-house + and hunt for a prospective office. By the way, Captain, you don't happen + to know of a good, commodious two by four office that I could hire at a + two by four figure, do you? One not so far from the main street that I + should wear out an extravagant amount of shoe leather walking to and from + it?” + </p> + <p> + More reflection on the captain's part. Then he said: + </p> + <p> + “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's pretty + good and the rent—well, you and me wouldn't pull hair over the rent + question, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + “Probably not, but I should insist on paying as much as your barber friend + did. This isn't a charity proposition I'm making you, Captain Bangs. Oh, + let me ask this: Has this—er—office of yours got a good front + window?” + </p> + <p> + “Front window! What in time—? Yes, I guess likely the front window's + all right. But what does a lawyer want of a front window?” + </p> + <p> + “To look out of. About all a young lawyer does is look out of the window. + Now about a boarding-place?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed had been waiting for this question. + </p> + <p> + “I've got a boardin'-place for you, John,” he declared. “The office I may + not be so sartin about, but the boardin'-place I am. There ain't a better + one this side of Boston and I know it. And the woman who keeps it is—well, + you take my word for it she's all RIGHT.” + </p> + <p> + His passenger regarded him curiously. + </p> + <p> + “You seem very enthusiastic, Captain,” he observed, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + Captain Bangs' next remark was addressed to the horse. He gruffly bade the + animal “gid-dap” and appeared a trifle confused. + </p> + <p> + “I am,” he admitted, after a moment. “You'll be, too, when you see her.” + </p> + <p> + He described the High Cliff House and its owner. Mr. Kendrick asked the + terms for board and an “average” room. When told he whistled. + </p> + <p> + “That isn't high,” he said. “For such a place as you say this is it is + very low. But I am afraid it is too high for me. Isn't there any other + establishment where they care for men—and poor lawyers?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there is, but you shan't go to it, not if I can stop you. You come + right along with me now to the High Cliff and have dinner. Yes, you will. + 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't you 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.” + </p> + <p> + They drove into the yard of Mrs. Barnes' “property” and Thankful herself + met them at the door. Captain Obed introduced his passenger and announced + that the latter gentleman and he would dine there. The lady seemed glad to + hear this, but she seemed troubled, too. When she and the captain were + alone together she disclosed the cause of her trouble. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I'm goin' to lose my best boarder,” she said. “Mr. Daniels + says 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 awful sorry. He's + about the highest payin' roomer I have and I did think he was permanent. + Oh, dear!” she added. “It does seem as if there was just one thing after + the other to worry me. I—I don't seem to be makin' both ends 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 almost sort of + discouraged. I know I shouldn't, so soon, of course. It's—it's + because I'm tired today, I guess likely.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I guess likely 'tis. Tired! I shouldn't wonder? It ain't any of my + affairs at all, Mrs. Barnes, and I beg your pardon for sayin' it, but if + you don't have some good capable person to take some of the care and + managin' of this place off your shoulders you'll be down sick afore the + summer's through.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful sighed, and then smiled. “I know I need help, the right kind of + help, 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 can without + it. As for gettin' sick—well, I can't afford that, either.” + </p> + <p> + At dinner John Kendrick met Mr. Heman Daniels and Miss Timpson and Caleb + Hammond. All three were evidently very curious concerning the business + which had brought the young man to East Wellmouth, but their curiosity was + not satisfied. Kendrick himself refused to notice hints and insinuations + and, though he talked freely on most subjects, would not talk of his own + affairs. Captain Obed, of course, disclosed nothing of the knowledge he + had gained. So the table talk dealt mainly with the changes in the village + since John was a boy there, and of old times and old residents long gone. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Daniels was very gracious and very affable. He spoke largely of cases + intrusted to his care, of responsibilities and trusts, and if the guest + gained the idea that Mr. Daniels was a very capable and prosperous lawyer + indeed—if he gained such an idea and did not express it, how could + Heman be expected to contradict? + </p> + <p> + After dinner—Kendrick informed his friend it was one of the best he + had ever eaten—he and the captain walked over to the village, where + they spent the afternoon wandering about, inspecting the ex-barber-shop + and discussing chances and possibilities. The young man was still doubtful + of East Wellmouth's promise of professional opportunities. He should like + to live there, he said, and he might decide to do so, but as yet he had + not so decided. He seemed more pessimistic than during the drive down from + the station. Captain Obed, however, and oddly enough, was much more + optimistic than he had been at first. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, John,” he said, “but I ain't sure you couldn't make good, + and pretty good, too, by settlin' here. This section needs a good lawyer.” + </p> + <p> + “Another good lawyer you mean. Daniels is here, remember. Judging by his + remarks this noon he is very much here.” + </p> + <p> + “Um—yes, I know. If you take his remarks at the value he marks 'em + with he's the whole bank and a safe-deposit vault hove in. But I wouldn't + wonder if those remarks was subject to a discount. Anyhow I know mighty + well 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 there ain't another + lawyer short of Trumet and that's quite a ways. But maybe they'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.” + </p> + <p> + He insisted upon Kendrick's returning to the High Cliff House that night. + “I want Mrs. Barnes to show you the room she's got vacant,” he said. + “Ain't no harm lookin' at a brindle calf, as the feller said; you don't + have to buy the critter unless you want to.” + </p> + <p> + So Mr. Kendrick inspected the rooms and expressed himself as delighted + with them. + </p> + <p> + “They're all right in every respect, Captain,” he declared. “And the food + is more than that. But the price—although it's surprisingly low + considering the value offered—is too steep for me. I'm afraid, if I + should locate here, for a trial trip, I couldn't afford to be comfortable + and I shouldn't expect to.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Bangs remained to take supper with his friend. The meal over, they + and the rest of the boarders were seated in the big living-room—once + Captain Abner's “best parlor”—when there came from outside the + rattle of wheels and the voice of Winnie S. shouting “Whoa!” to General + Jackson. + </p> + <p> + Thankful, who had been in the kitchen superintending Imogene, who was + learning rapidly, came hurrying to the front door. The group in the parlor + heard her utter an exclamation, an exclamation of surprise and delight. + There were other exclamations, also in a feminine voice, and the sounds of + affectionate greetings. Then Mrs. Barnes, her face beaming, ushered into + the living-room a young woman. And this young woman was her cousin, Emily + Howes. + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed rose to greet her. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I swan to man, Miss Howes!” he cried. “This IS a surprise! I didn't + know you was due for a v'yage in this latitude.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful laughed. “Neither did I,” she declared. “It's as big a surprise + to me as it is to you, Cap'n. She didn't write me a word.” + </p> + <p> + Emily laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I didn't, Auntie,” she said. “I wanted to surprise you. But + you're glad to see me, aren't you?” + </p> + <p> + “GLAD! I don't believe I was ever so glad to see anybody in MY life.” + </p> + <p> + “We're all glad to see you, Miss Howes,” announced the captain. “Come down + to make us a little visit, hey?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, more than a little one. You can't escape so easily. I am going to + stay all summer at least, perhaps longer. There, Aunt Thankful, what do + you think of that?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + What Thankful thought of it was evidenced by the manner in which she + received the news. She did not say much, then, but the expression of + relief and delight upon her face was indication sufficient. She did ask a + number of questions: Why had Emily come then, so long before her school + closed? How was it that she could leave her teaching? Why hadn't she + written? And many others. + </p> + <p> + Miss Howes answered the questions one after the other. She had come in May + because she found that she could come. + </p> + <p> + “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 you so + before I left and I have written it many times since. I came now because—well, + because—you mustn't be alarmed, Auntie; there is nothing to be + frightened about—but the school committee seemed to feel that I + needed a change and rest. They seemed to think that I was not as well as I + should be, that I was tired, was wearing myself out; that is the way they + expressed it. It was absurd, of course, I am perfectly well. But when they + came to me and told me that they had decided to give me a vacation, with + pay, until next fall, and even longer if I felt that I needed it, you may + be sure I didn't refuse their kind offer. I thanked them and said yes + before they could have changed their minds, even if they had wished to. + They said I should go into the country. That was just where I wanted to + go, and so here I am, IN the country. Aren't you glad?” + </p> + <p> + “Glad! Don't talk! But, Emily, if you ain't well, don't you think—” + </p> + <p> + “I am well. Don't say another word about that. And, Oh, the things I mean + to do to help you, Aunt Thankful!” + </p> + <p> + “Help me! Indeed you won't! You'll rest and get strong again, that's what + you'll do. I don't need any help.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, you do. I know it.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + For just an instant Emily glanced at Captain Bangs. The captain's face + expressed alarm and embarrassment. He was standing where Mrs. Barnes could + not see him and he shook his head warningly. Miss Howes' eyes twinkled, + but she did not smile. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I knew!” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + “But HOW did you know? I never wrote you such a thing, sartin.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you didn't. But I knew because—well, just because. + Everyone who 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 + awfully hungry.” + </p> + <p> + That was enough for Thankful. She seized her cousin by the arm and hurried + her into the dining-room. A few moments later she reappeared to order Miss + Howes' trunk carried upstairs to the “blue room.” + </p> + <p> + “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—and + tickled to see her that I forgot everything, manners and all. Soon's she's + had a bite to eat I'll try to make up. You'll forgive me, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + When she had gone Captain Obed was bombarded with questions. Who was the + young lady? Where did she come from? If she was only a cousin, why did she + call Mrs. Barnes “Auntie”? And many others. + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed answered as best he could. + </p> + <p> + “She's real pretty, isn't she,” affirmed Miss Timpson. “I don't know when + 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. You remember + that, don't you, Mr. Hammond?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hammond chuckled. “I remember lots of things,” he observed + diplomatically. + </p> + <p> + “You think she's pretty, don't you, Mr. Daniels?” persisted Miss Timpson. + </p> + <p> + East Wellmouth's legal light bowed assent. “A—ahem—a very + striking young lady,” he said with dignity. He had scarcely taken his eyes + from the newcomer while she was in the room. John Kendrick said nothing. + </p> + <p> + When Emily and Thankful returned to the living-room there were + introductions and handshakings. And, following these, a general + conversation lasting until ten o'clock. Then Miss Howes excused herself, + saying that she was a bit tired, bade them all good night and went to her + room. + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed left soon afterward. + </p> + <p> + “Well, John,” he said to his friend, as they stood together on the front + step, “what do you think of this for a boardin'-house? All I prophesied, + ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + Kendrick nodded. “All that, and more,” he answered, emphatically. + </p> + <p> + “Like Mrs. Barnes, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Very much. No one could help liking her.” + </p> + <p> + “Um-hm. Well, I told you that, too. And her niece—cousin, I mean—is + just as nice as she is. You'll like her, too, when you know her. . . . + Eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't speak, Captain.” + </p> + <p> + “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'VE + been tagged by Abbie Larkin if I don't hurry up and report. See you in the + mornin', John. Good night.” + </p> + <p> + The next forenoon he was on hand, bright and early, and he and Kendrick + went over to the village on another tour of inspection. Captain Obed was + extremely curious to know whether or not his friend had made up his mind + to remain in East Wellmouth, but, as the young man himself did not + volunteer the information, the captain asked no questions. They walked up + and down the main road until dinner time. John said very little, and was + evidently thinking hard. Just before twelve Captain Bangs did ask a + question, his first one. + </p> + <p> + “Well, John,” he said, looking up at the clock in the steeple of the + Methodist Church, “it's about time for us to be thinkin' about takin' in + cargo. Where shall we eat this noon? At the High Cliff again, or do you + want to tackle Darius Holt's? Course you understand I'm game for 'most + anything if you say so, and 'most anything's what we're liable to get at + that Holt shebang. I don't want you to think I've got any personal grudge. + When it comes to that I'm—ho! ho!—well, I'm a good deal in the + frame 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—he + was a stranger in town—was walkin' up and down the aisles tryin' to + influence the mourners to come forward. He crept up on Kenelm from behind, + when he wa'n't expected, and says he, 'Brother,' he says, 'do you love the + Lord?' Kenelm was some took by surprise and his wits was in the next + county, I cal'late. 'Why—why—' he stammers. 'I ain't got + nothin' 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 you + say?” + </p> + <p> + Kendrick hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “The Holt board is cheaper, isn't it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yup. It costs less and it's wuth it.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Well—well, I guess we may as well go back to the High Cliff + House.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed was much surprised, but he said nothing. + </p> + <p> + At dinner there was a sprightly air of cheerfulness and desire to please + among the boarders. Everyone talked a good deal and most of the remarks + were addressed to Miss Howes, who sat at the foot of the table, opposite + her cousin. Thankful noticed the change and marveled at it. Dinners had + hitherto been rather hurried and silent affairs. Miss Timpson usually + rushed 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 at his + watch and hint concerning important legal business which needed prompt + attention. Caleb Hammond's conversation too often was confined to a range + bordered by rheumatism on the one hand and bronchitis on the other. + </p> + <p> + Now all this was changed. No one seemed in a hurry, no one appeared to + care what the time might be, and no one grumbled. Mr. Daniels was + particularly affable and gracious; he even condescended to joke. He was + wearing his best and newest suit and his tie was carefully arranged. Emily + was in high spirits, laughed at the jokes, whether they were new or old, + and seemed to be very happy. She had been for a walk along the bluff, and + the sea breeze had crimsoned her cheeks and blown her hair about. She + apologized for the disarrangement of the hair, but even Miss Timpson—her + own tresses as smooth as the back of a haircloth sofa—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 him some of Laviny Marthy's hair. + “Laviny Marthy was my wife that was,” he added, 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 they call a good listener, for he seemed + to be real interested, especially when Miss Howes was talkin'. He'd look + at her and look at her, and time and time again I thought he was goin' to + say somethin', but he didn't.” + </p> + <p> + He was not talkative when alone with Captain Obed that afternoon. They + paid one more visit to the building “opposite the postoffice” and while + there he asked a few questions concerning the rent. The figure named by + the captain was a low one and John seemed to think it too low. “I'm not + asking charity,” he declared. “At least you might charge me enough to pay + for the paint I may rub off when I open the door.” + </p> + <p> + But Captain Obed obstinately refused to raise his figure. “I've charged + enough to risk what paint there is,” he announced. “If I charged more I'd + feel as if I had to paint fresh, and I don't want to do that. What's the + matter with you, John? Want to heave your money away, do you? Better keep + the odd change to buy cigars. You can heave them away, if you want to—and + you won't be liable to hit many lawyers neither.” + </p> + <p> + At supper time as they stood by the gate of the High Cliff House the + captain, who was to eat at his regular boarding-place, the Parkers', that + evening, ventured to ask the question he had been so anxious to ask. + </p> + <p> + “Well, John?” he began. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Captain?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you—have you made up your mind yet?” + </p> + <p> + Kendrick turned over, with his foot, a stone in the path. + </p> + <p> + “I—” he paused and turned the stone back again. Then he drew a long + breath. “I must make it up,” he said, “and I can do it as well now as a + week 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 let me have + that office of yours for six months at the figure you have named—and + I think you are crazy to do it—I will send for my trunk and my + furniture and begin to—look out of the window.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed was delighted. “Shake, John,” he exclaimed. “I'm tickled to + death. And I'll tell you this: If you can't get a client no other way I'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 to eat and sleep?” + he added, after a moment. + </p> + <p> + The young man seemed to find the question as hard to answer as the other. + </p> + <p> + “I like it here,” he admitted. “I like it very much indeed. But I must + economize and the few hundred dollars I have scraped together won't—” + </p> + <p> + He was interrupted. Emily Howes appeared at the corner of the house behind + them. + </p> + <p> + “Supper is ready,” she called cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + Both men turned to look at her. She was bareheaded and the western sun + made her profile a dainty silhouette, a silhouette framed in the spun gold + of her hair. + </p> + <p> + “John's comin', Miss Emily,” answered the captain. “He'll be right there.” + </p> + <p> + Emily waved her hand and hurried back to the dining-room door. Mr. + Kendrick kicked the stone into the grass. + </p> + <p> + “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't + always make a martyr of himself, even if he knows he should.” + </p> + <p> + The next morning Mrs. Barnes, over at the village on a marketing + expedition, met Captain Bangs on his way to the postoffice. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Cap'n,” she said, “I've got somethin' to tell you. 'Tain't bad news + this 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 that + splendid!” + </p> + <p> + The sewing circles and the club and the noon and evening groups at the + postoffice had two new subjects for verbal dissection during the next + fortnight. This was, in its way, a sort of special Providence, for this + was the dull season, when there were no more wrecks alongshore or + schooners aground on the bars, and the boarders and cottagers from the + cities had not yet come to East Wellmouth. Also the opening of the High + Cliff House was getting to be a worn-out topic. So Emily Howes, her + appearance and behavior, and John Kendrick, HIS behavior and his + astonishing recklessness in attempting to wrest a portion of the county + law practice from Heman Daniels, were welcomed as dispensations and + discussed with gusto. + </p> + <p> + Emily came through the gossip mill ground fine, but with surprisingly + little chaff. She was “pretty as a picture,” all the males agreed upon + that point. And even the females admitted that she was “kind of + good-lookin',” although Hannah Parker's diagnosis that she was “declined + to be consumptic” and Mrs. Larkin's that she was older than she “made out + to be,” had some adherents. All agreed, however, that she knew how to run + a boarding-house and that she was destined to be the “salvation” of + Thankful Barnes' venture at the Cap'n Abner place. + </p> + <p> + Certainly she did prove herself to possess marked ability as a business + manager. Quietly, and without undue assertion, she reorganized the affairs + of the High Cliff House. No one detected any difference in the quality of + the meals served there, in their variety or ample sufficiency. But, little + by little, she took upon herself the buying of supplies, the regulation of + accounts, the prompt payment of bills and the equally prompt collection of + board and room rent. Thankful found the cares upon her shoulders less and + less heavy, and she was more free to do what she was so capable of doing, + that is, superintend the cooking and the housekeeping. + </p> + <p> + But Thankful herself was puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand it,” she said. “I've always had to look out for + myself, and others, too. There ain't been a minute since I can remember + that I ain't had somebody dependent upon me. I cal'lated I could run a + boardin'-house if I couldn't do anything else. But I'm just as sure as I + am that I'm alive that if you hadn't come when you did I'd have run this + one into the ground and myself into the poorhouse. I don't understand it.” + </p> + <p> + Emily smiled and put her arm about her cousin's waist. “Oh, no, you + wouldn'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 always + fearful that your boarders might not be satisfied. I have been teaching + bookkeeping and accounting, you see, and, besides, I have lived in a + family where the principal struggle was to satisfy the butcher and the + baker and the candlestick maker. This is real fun compared to that.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” she said; “you always talk that way, Emily. But I'm afraid + you'll make yourself sick. You come down here purpose for your health, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + Emily laughed and patted Mrs. Barnes' plump shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Health!” she repeated. “Why, I have never been as well since I can + remember. 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—a + specialist. Auntie is afraid I am ill. Don't you think I look about as + well as anyone could look?” + </p> + <p> + Heman bowed. “If my poor opinion is worth anything,” he observed, “I + should say that to find fault with your appearance, Miss Howes, would be + like venturing to—er—-paint the lily, as the saying is. I + might say more, but—ahem—perhaps I had better not.” + </p> + <p> + Judging by the young lady's expression he had said quite enough already. + </p> + <p> + “Idiot!” she exclaimed, after he had left the room. “I ask him a sensible + question and he thinks it necessary to answer with a silly compliment. + Thought I was fishing for one, probably. Why will men be such fools—some + men?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Daniels' opinion concerning his professional rival was asked a good + many times during that first fortnight. He treated the subject as he did + the rival, with condescending toleration. It was quite plain that he + considered his own position too secure to be shaken. In fact, his feeling + toward John Kendrick seemed to be a sort of kindly pity. + </p> + <p> + “He appears to be a very well-meaning young man,” he said, in reply to one + of the questions. “Rash, of course; very young men are likely to be rash—and + perhaps more hopeful than some of us older and—ahem—wiser + persons might be under the same circumstances. But he is well-meaning and + 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 are always cases—ah—which + I can't—or don't wish to—accept.” + </p> + <p> + When this remark was repeated to Captain Obed the latter sniffed. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” he observed, “I don't know what they are. I never see a case + Heman wouldn't accept, if there was as much as seventy-five cents in it. + If bananas was a nickel a bunch the only part he'd throw in anybody else's + way would be the skins.” + </p> + <p> + John, himself, did not seem to mind or care what Mr. Daniels or anyone + else 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 books + arrived by freight and were installed in the ex-barber-shop. The local + sign-painter perpetrated a sign with “John Kendrick, Attorney-at-law” upon + it in gilt letters, and the “looking out of the window” really began. + </p> + <p> + And that was about all that did begin for days and days. Each morning or + afternoon, Sundays excepted, Captain Bangs would drop in at the office and + find no one there, no one but the tenant, that is. The latter, seated + behind the desk, with a big sheepskin-bound volume spread open upon it, + was always glad to see his visitor. Their conversations were + characteristic. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, John!” the captain would begin. “How are the clients comin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know, Captain. None of them has as yet got near enough so that I + could see how he comes.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! I want to know. Mr. John D. Jacob Vanderbilt ain't cruised in from + Newport to put his affairs in your hands? Sho'! He's pretty short-sighted, + ain't he?” + </p> + <p> + “Very. He's losing valuable time.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I expected better things of him, I must say. Ain't gettin' + discouraged, are you, John?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed. If there was much discouragement in my make-up I should have + stopped before I began. How is the fish business, Captain?” + </p> + <p> + “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 of the + court on them to come into my weirs and answer for their sins, or + somethin' like that? I'd be willin' to pay you a fairly good fee.” + </p> + <p> + On one occasion the visitor asked his friend what he found to do all the + long days. “Don't study law ALL the time, do you, John?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + Kendrick shook his head. “No,” he answered, gravely. “Between studies I + enjoy the view. Magnificent view from this window, don't you think?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed inspected the “view.” The principal feature in the landscape + was Dr. Jameson's cow, pastured in the vacant lot between the doctor's + home and the postoffice. + </p> + <p> + “Very fine cow, that,” commented the lawyer. “An inspiring creature. I + spend hours looking at that cow. She is a comfort to my philosophic soul.” + </p> + <p> + The captain observed that he wanted to know. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” continued Kendrick. “She is happy; you can see that she is happy. + Now why?” + </p> + <p> + “'Cause she's eatin' grass,” declared Captain Obed, promptly. + </p> + <p> + “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 plenty to + eat. That's my case exactly. I have nothing to do except eat, and at Mrs. + Barnes' boarding-house there is always enough, and more than enough, to + eat. The cow is happy and I ought to be, I suppose. If MY food was + furnished free of cost I should be, I presume.” + </p> + <p> + Kenelm Parker heard a conversation like the foregoing on one occasion and + left the office rubbing his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “There's two lunatics in that place,” he told the postmaster. “And if I'd + stayed there much longer and listened to their ravin's there'd have been + another one.” + </p> + <p> + Kenelm seemed unusually contented and happy in his capacity as + man-of-all-work at the High Cliff House. Possibly the fact that there was + so very little real work to do may have helped to keep him in this frame + of mind. He had always the appearance of being very busy; a rake or 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 and responsibility + which were his. Most of these remarks were addressed to Imogene, to whom + he had apparently taken a great fancy. + </p> + <p> + Imogene was divided in her feelings toward Mr. Parker. + </p> + <p> + “He's an awful interestin' talker,” she confided to Emily. “Every time he + comes into this kitchen I have to watch out or he'll stay and talk till + noontime. And yet if I want to get him to do somethin' or other he is + always chock full of business that can't wait a minute. I like to hear him + talk—he's got ideas on 'most every kind of thing—but I have to + work, myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that he doesn't work?” asked Emily. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know whether he does or not. I can't make out. If he don't he's + an awful good make-believe, that's all I've got to say. One time I caught + him back of the woodpile sound asleep, but he was hanging onto the 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 the want of rest + had been too much for him. Then he started in to tell me about his home + life and I listened for ten minutes before I come to enough to get back to + the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think he is lazy, Imogene?” + </p> + <p> + “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 it + has. I should think 'twould be. The way that sister of his nags at him all + the time is enough to drive out the—the measles.” + </p> + <p> + Imogene and Hannah Parker, as Captain Obed said, “rubbed each other the + wrong way.” Hannah was continually calling to see her brother, probably to + make sure that he was there and not in the dangerous Larkin neighborhood. + Imogene resented these visits—“usin' up Mrs. Thankful's time,” 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. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” observed Hannah, on one occasion, “I presume likely you find it + nice to be down here, where folks are folks and not just 'inmates.' It + must be dreadful to be an 'inmate.'” + </p> + <p> + Imogene sniffed. “There's all kinds of inmates,” she said, “same as + there's all kinds of folks. Far's that goes, there's some folks couldn't + be an inmate, if they wanted to. They wouldn't be let in.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is that so? Judgin' by what I've seen I shouldn't have thought them + that run such places was very particular. Where's Kenelm?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. He's to work, I suppose. That's what he's hired for, they + tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed! Well,” with emphasis, “he doesn't have to work, unless he + wants to. My brother has money of his own, enough to subside on + comf'tably, if he wanted to do it. His comin' here is just to accommodate + Mrs. Barnes, that's all. Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Last I saw of him he was accommodatin' the horse stall. He may be uptown + by this time, for all I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Uptown?” in alarm. “What would he be uptown for? He ain't got any + business there, has he?” + </p> + <p> + “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 I guess I'd better attend to it. Good mornin', ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Howes cautioned Imogene against arousing the Parkers' enmity. + </p> + <p> + “Lordy! I mean mercy sakes, ma'am,” exclaimed Imogene, “you needn't be + afraid so far as Kenelm's concerned. I do boss him around some, when I + think it's needful, but it ain't my bossin' that worries him, it's that + Hannah woman's. He says she's at him all the time. Don't give him the + peace of his life, he says. He's a misunderstood man, he tells me. Maybe + he is; there are such, you know. I've read about 'em in stories.” + </p> + <p> + Emily smiled. “Well,” she said, “I wouldn't drive him too hard, if I were + you, Imogene. He isn't the hardest worker in the world, but he does do + some work, and men who can be hired to work about a place in summer are + scarce here in East Wellmouth. You must be patient with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Lor—land sakes! I am. But he does make me cross. He'd be settin' in + my kitchen every evenin' if I'd let him. Don't seem to want to go home. I + don't know's I blame him for that. You think I ought to let him set, I + suppose, Miss Howes?” + </p> + <p> + “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 be + willing to make some sacrifice for her, wouldn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “You bet your life I would! She's the best woman on earth, Mrs. Barnes is. + I'd do anything for her, sacrifice my head, if that was worth five cents + to anybody. All right, he can set if he wants to. I—I suppose I + 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'd + improve his if I read 'em out loud to him. His sister prob'ly won't like + it, 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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 room adjoining + it. These were taken by a young couple from Worcester and, if they heard + any unusual noises in their apartment, they did not mention them. + Thankful's dread of that little room had entirely disappeared. She was now + thoroughly convinced that her imagination and the storm were responsible + for the “spooks.” + </p> + <p> + John Kendrick continued to sleep and eat at the new boarding-house. He was + a general favorite there, although rather silent and disinclined to take + an active part in the conversation at table. He talked more with Emily + Howes than with anyone and she and he were becoming very friendly. Emily, + Thankful and Captain Obed Bangs were the only real friends the young man + had; he might have had more, but he did not seem to care for them. With + these three, however, and particularly with Emily, he was even + confidential, speaking of his professional affairs and prospects, subjects + which he never mentioned to others. + </p> + <p> + These—the prospects—were brighter than at first. He had + accepted one case and refused another. The refusal came as a surprise to + East Wellmouth and caused much comment. Mr. Chris Badger was a passenger + on the train from Boston and that train ran off the track at Buzzard's + Bay. No one was seriously hurt except Mr. Badger. The latter gentleman + purchased a pair of crutches and limped about on them, proclaiming himself + a cripple for life. He and Heman Daniels had had a disagreement over a + business matter so Chris took his damage suit against the railroad to John + Kendrick. And John refused it. + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed, much disturbed, questioned his friend. + </p> + <p> + “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 does come + along and you turn it down. Why?” + </p> + <p> + Kendrick laughed. “I'm cursed with a strong sense of contrast, Captain,” + he replied. “Those crutches are too straight for me.” + </p> + <p> + The captain stared. “Straight!” he repeated. “All crutches are straight, + ain't they?” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly; but some cripples are crooked.” + </p> + <p> + So it was to Mr. Daniels, after all, that the damage suit came, and Heman + brought about a three-hundred-dollar settlement. Most of East Wellmouth + pronounced Kendrick “too pesky particular,” but in some quarters, and + these not by any means the least influential, his attitude gained approval + and respect. This feeling was strengthened by his taking Edgar Wingate's + suit against that same railroad. Edgar's woodlot was set on fire by sparks + from the locomotive and John forced payment, and liberal payment, for the + damage. Other cases, small ones, began to come his way. Lawyer Daniels had + enemies in the community who had been waiting to take their legal affairs + elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + Heman still professed entire indifference, but he no longer patronized his + rival. John had a quiet way of squelching such patronage and of turning + the laugh, which was annoying to a person lacking a sense of humor. And + then, too, it was quite evident that Emily Howes' liking for the younger + man displeased Daniels greatly. Heman liked Emily, seemed to like her very + much indeed. On one or two occasions he had taken her to ride behind his + fast horse, and he often brought bouquets and fruit, “given me by my + clients and friends,” he explained. “One can't refuse little gifts like + that, but it is a comfort, to a bachelor like me, to be able to hand them + on—hand them on—yes.” + </p> + <p> + The first of August brought a new sensation and a new resident to East + Wellmouth. The big Colfax estate was sold and the buyer was no less a + personage than E. Holliday Kendrick, John Kendrick's aristocratic Fifth + Avenue cousin. His coming was as great a surprise to John as to the rest + of the community, but he seemed much less excited over it. The purchase + was quietly completed and, one pleasant morning, the great E. Holliday + himself appeared in East Wellmouth accompanied by a wife and child, two + motor cars and six servants. + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed Bangs, who had been spending a week in Orham on business + connected with his fish weirs, returned to find the village chanting the + praises of the new arrival. Somehow or other E. Holliday had managed + already to convey the impression that he was the most important person in + creation. The captain happening in at the High Cliff House after supper, + found the group in the living-room discussing the all-important topic. + Most of the city boarders were out enjoying a “marshmallow toast” about a + bonfire on the beach, but the “regulars” were present. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Mrs. Thankful?” was Captain Obed's first question. + </p> + <p> + “She's in the kitchen, I think,” replied John. “Shall I call her?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + John smiled. He seemed quietly amused about something. He regarded his + friend, who, after a glance in his direction, was staring at the lamp on + the table, and said: + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure it would be no trouble, Captain. Better let me tell her you are + here.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed was saved the embarrassment of further protestations by the + entrance of Thankful herself; Emily accompanied her. The captain shook + hands with Mrs. Barnes and her cousin and hastened to announce that he + heard “big news” down street and had run over to find out how much truth + there was in it. + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't scurcely believe it, myself,” he declared. “John here, never + said a word about his high-toned relation comin' to East Wellmouth. Had + you any idea he was comin', John?” + </p> + <p> + John shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said. “The last time I saw him in New York, which was two years + or more ago, he did say something about being on the lookout for a 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 for his being here.” + </p> + <p> + “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 person is + this relation of yours, Mr. Kendrick? He ought to be all right, if there's + anything in family connections.” + </p> + <p> + Heman Daniels answered the question. He spoke with authority. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Holliday is a fine gentleman,” he announced, emphatically. “I've seen + him two or three times since he came. He's a millionaire, but it doesn't + make him pompous or stand-offish. He and I spoke—er—conversed + together as friendly and easy as if we had known each other all our lives. + 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 making it his + permanent home. Of course he won't stay here ALL the year—the family + have a house in Florida and one in New York, I believe—but he will + call East Wellmouth his real home and his interests will center here.” + </p> + <p> + There was a general expression of satisfaction. Miss Timpson declared that + it was “real lovely” of Mr. Holliday Kendrick. Caleb Hammond announced + 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 said it, too,” he + proclaimed stoutly. “They'll bear me out in it, if you ask 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad we're goin' to have such nice neighbors,” said Thankful. “It's + always worried me a little wonderin' who that Colfax place might be sold + to. I didn't know but somebody might get it with the notion of startin' + another hotel.” + </p> + <p> + “Hannah Parker ain't opened her mouth to talk of anything else since I 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 of Providence, + if you know what that is.” + </p> + <p> + John smiled but he said nothing. Emily was silent, also; she was regarding + the young man intently. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” continued Mr. Daniels, evidently pleased at the approval with + which his statement had been met. “Yes, sir, Mr. E. Holliday Kendrick is + destined to be a great acquisition to this town; mark my words. He tells + me he shall hire no one to do his work except East Wellmouth people. And + there will be a lot of work to be done, if he carries out his plans. He + intends building an addition to his house, and enlarging his estate—” + </p> + <p> + Thankful interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “Enlargin' it!” she repeated. “Mercy sakes! What for? I should think 'twas + large enough now!” + </p> + <p> + Heman smiled tolerantly. “To us—the ordinary—er—citizens, + it might appear so,” he observed. “But the—er—New York ideas + is broader than the average Cape Codder's, if you'll excuse me, Mrs. + Barnes. Mr. Kendrick has begun to spend money here already, and he will + doubtless spend more. He contemplates public improvements as well as + private. He asked me what sort of spirit there was in our community. + Ahem!” + </p> + <p> + He paused, apparently to let the importance of the announcement sink in. + It sank, or seemed to. Mr. Hammond, however, was somewhat puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “Now what do you cal'late he meant by that?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + John Kendrick answered. He and Emily had exchanged smiles. Neither of them + seemed as deeply impressed with the Daniels proclamation as the others of + the group. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he wanted to buy a drink,” suggested John, gravely. + </p> + <p> + Miss Timpson was shocked; her expression showed it. Caleb Hammond did not + seem to know whether to be shocked or not; the Hammond appreciation of a + joke generally arrived on a later train. Mrs. Barnes and Captain Obed + laughed, but not too heartily. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Daniels did not laugh. The frivolous interruption evidently jarred + him. + </p> + <p> + “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 he + would not find it necessary to buy his—er—beverages here. He + meant public spirit, of course. He asked me who our leading men were.” + </p> + <p> + “Who were they—the others, I mean?” asked John. + </p> + <p> + Emily rubbed away a smile with her handkerchief. Heman noticed her action, + and his color brightened. + </p> + <p> + “They WERE public,” he said, rather sharply. “They were men of standing—long + standing in the community. Prominent and prosperous citizens, who have + lived here long enough for East Wellmouth to know them—and respect + them.” + </p> + <p> + This was a shot in the bull's eye. Miss Timpson evidently thought so, for + she nodded approval. Daniels continued. + </p> + <p> + “They were men of known worth,” he went on. “Practical citizens whose past + as well as present is known. Your cousin—I believe he is your + cousin, Kendrick, although he did not mention the relationship—was + grateful to me for giving him their names. He is a practical man, + himself.” + </p> + <p> + John nodded. “He must be,” he admitted. “No one but a practical man could + get all that advice, free, from a lawyer.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed laughed aloud. + </p> + <p> + “That's a good one,” he declared. “Lawyers ain't in the habit of GIVIN' + much, 'cordin' to all accounts. How about it, Heman?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Daniels ignored the question and the questioner. He rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “There are SOME lawyers,” he observed, crisply, “whose advice is not asked—to + any great extent. I—I think I will join the group on the beach. It's + a beautiful evening. Won't you accompany me, Miss Howes?” + </p> + <p> + 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? I + happened to see him go into your office yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + Everyone was surprised—everyone except the speaker and the person + addressed, that is—but Heman's surprise was most manifest. His hand + was on the knob of the door, but now he turned. + </p> + <p> + “In HIS office?” he repeated. “Kendrick, was he in to see YOU?” + </p> + <p> + John bowed assent. “Yes,” he said. “He seems to be contemplating retaining + a sort of—of resident attorney to look after his local affairs. I + mentioned your name, Daniels.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Daniels went out. The door banged behind him. + </p> + <p> + A half hour later, after Mr. Hammond also had gone to join the marshmallow + toasters and Miss Timpson had retired to her room, John told the others + the story. Mr. E. Holliday Kendrick HAD called upon him at his office and + he did contemplate engaging a resident lawyer. There were likely to be + many of what he termed “minor details” connected with the transfer of the + Colfax estate to him and the purchases which he meant to make later on, + and an attorney at his beck and call would be a great convenience. Not + this only; he had actually offered his young cousin the position, had + offered to engage him and to pay him several hundred dollars as a + retaining fee. + </p> + <p> + He told his hearers so much, and then he stopped. Emily, who had seemed + much interested, waited a moment and then begged him to continue. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” she said. “Why don't you tell us the rest? We are all waiting to + congratulate you. You accepted, of course.” + </p> + <p> + 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 shall + accept.” + </p> + <p> + Here was the unexpected. His hearers looked at each other in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “You won't accept!” cried Thankful. “Why, Mr. Kendrick.” + </p> + <p> + “Won't accept!” shouted Captain Obed. “What on earth! Why, John Kendrick, + what's the matter with you? Ain't you been settin' in that office of yours + waitin' and waitin' for somethin' worth while to come along? And now a + really big chance does come, and you say you don't know as you'll take it! + What kind of talk's that, I'd like to know!” + </p> + <p> + John smiled. Miss Howes, who seemed as much surprised as the others, did + not smile. + </p> + <p> + “Why won't you take it?” demanded the captain. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know. The proposition doesn't appeal to me as strongly as it + should, perhaps. Cousin Holliday and I ARE cousins, but we—well, we + differ in other ways besides the size of our incomes. When I was in New + York I went to him at one time. I was—I needed—well, I went to + him. He consented to see me and he listened to what I had to say, but he + was not 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's only + child and all that, and out of the kindness of his heart offers me + employment. But—but I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + No one spoke for a moment. Then Emily broke the silence. + </p> + <p> + “You don't know?” she repeated, rather sharply. “Why not, may I ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't, that's all. For one thing, there is just a little too much + condescension in my dear cousin's manner. I may be a yellow dog, but I + don't like to sit up and beg when my master threatens to throw me a bone. + Perhaps I'm particular as to who that master may be.” + </p> + <p> + Again it was Emily who spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you are—TOO particular,” she said. “Can you afford to be so + particular?” + </p> + <p> + “Probably not. But, you see, there is another thing. There is a question + of professional ethics involved. If I take that retainer I am bound in + honor to undertake any case Cousin Holliday may give me. And—and, + I'm not sure I should care to do that. You know how I feel about a + lawyer's duty to his client and his duty to himself. There are certain + questions—” + </p> + <p> + She interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “I think there are, too many questions,” she said. “I lose patience with + you sometimes. Often and often I have known of your refusing cases which + other lawyers have taken and won.” + </p> + <p> + “Meaning Brother Daniels?” He asked it with a smile, but with some sarcasm + in his tone. Both he and Miss Rowes seemed to have forgotten that the + captain and Thankful were present. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes. Mr. Daniels has accepted cases which you have refused. No one + thinks the less of him for it. He will accept your cousin's retainer if + you don't.” + </p> + <p> + “I presume he will. That would be the practical thing to do, and he prides + himself on his practicality.” + </p> + <p> + “Practicality is not altogether bad. It is often necessary in this + practical world. What case is Mr. Kendrick likely to put in your hands + which you would hesitate to undertake?” + </p> + <p> + “None that I know of. But if he did, I—” + </p> + <p> + “You could refuse to take it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, not easily. I should have accepted his retainer and that, according + to legal etiquette, would make me honor bound to—” + </p> + <p> + She interrupted again. Her patience was almost gone, that was plain. For + the matter of that, so was Captain Obed's. + </p> + <p> + “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 your + scruples. I don't like to see you letting success and—and all the + rest of it pass you by, when other men, not so overscrupulous, do succeed. + Don't you care for success? Or for money?” + </p> + <p> + John interrupted her. He leaned forward and spoke, deliberately but + firmly. And he looked her straight in the face. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” he said. “I care for both—now—more than I ever thought + I could care.” + </p> + <p> + And, all at once, the young lady seemed to remember that her cousin and + the captain were in the room. She colored, and when she spoke it was in a + different tone. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” she said, “it seems to me, if I were you, I should accept the + opportunities that came in my way. Of course, it's not my affair. I + shouldn't have presumed to advise.” She rose and moved toward the door. + “Good night, Mr. Kendrick,” she said. “Good night, Captain Bangs. Auntie, + you will excuse me, won't you? I am rather tired tonight, and—” + </p> + <p> + But once more Kendrick interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “One moment, please, Miss Howes,” he said, earnestly. “Do I understand—do + you mean that you wish me to accept Cousin Holliday's retainer?” + </p> + <p> + Emily paused. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” she answered, after an instant's hesitation, “I—I really + don't see why my wish one way or the other should be very strong. But—but + as a friend of yours—of course we are all your friends, Mr. Kendrick—as + one of your friends I—we, naturally, like to see you rise in your + profession.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you advise me to accept?” + </p> + <p> + “If my advice is worth anything—yes. Good night.” + </p> + <p> + Next day, when Captain Obed made his customary call at the ex-barber-shop, + he ventured to ask the question uppermost in his mind. + </p> + <p> + “Have you decided yet, John?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + His friend looked at him. + </p> + <p> + “Meaning—what?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + “Meanin'—you know what I mean well enough. Have you decided to take + your cousin's offer?” + </p> + <p> + “I've done more than that, Captain. I have accepted the offer and the + retaining fee, too.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed sprang forward and held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Bully for you, John!” he shouted. “That's the best thing you ever done in + your life. NOW you've really started.” + </p> + <p> + Kendrick smiled. “Yes,” he admitted, “I have started. Where I may finish + is another matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you'll finish all right. Don't be a Jeremiah, John. Well, well! This + is fine. Won't all hands be pleased!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, won't they! Especially Brother Daniels. Daniels will be overcome + with joy. Captain, have a cigar. Have two cigars. I have begun to spend my + retainer already, you see.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + The August days were busy ones at the High Cliff House. Every room was + filled and the tables in the dining-room well crowded. Thankful told + Captain Bangs that she could not spare time even to look out of the + window. “And yet Emily and I are about the only ones who don't look out,” + she added. “There's enough goin' on to look at, that's sartin.” + </p> + <p> + There was indeed. Mr. E. Holliday Kendrick having taken possession of his + new estate, immediately set about the improving and enlarging which Mr. + Daniels had quoted him as contemplating. Carpenters, painters and + gardeners were at work daily. The Kendrick motor cars and the Kendrick + servants were much in evidence along East Wellmouth's main road. What had + been done by the great man and his employees and what would be done in the + near future kept the gossips busy. He was planning a new rose garden—“the + finest from Buzzard's Bay down”; he had torn out the “whole broadside” of + the music-room and was “cal'latin'” to make it twice as large as formerly; + he was to build a large conservatory on the knoll by the stables. Hannah + Parker declared she could not see the need of this. “There's a tower onto + the main buildin' already,” she said, “pretty nigh as high as a + lighthouse. I should think a body could see fur enough from that tower, + without riggin' up a conservatory. Well, Mrs. Kendrick needn't ask ME to + go up in it. I went to the top of the conservatory on Scargo Hill one time + and I was so dizzy in the head I thought sure I'd fall right over the + railin'.” + </p> + <p> + The High Cliff boarders—Miss Timpson and Caleb Hammond especially—spent + a great deal of time peering from the living-room windows and watching + what they called the “goin's on” at the Kendrick estate. Occasionally they + caught a glimpse of E. Holliday himself. The great man was inclined to + greatness even in the physical meaning of the word, for he was tall and + stout, and dignified, not to say pompous. Arrayed in white flannels he + issued orders to his hirelings and the hirelings obeyed him. When one is + monarch of the larger portion of all he surveys it must be gratifying to + feel that one looks the part. E. Holliday looked it and apparently felt + it. + </p> + <p> + Thankful, during this, her most prosperous season, was active from morning + until night. When that night came she was ready for sleep, ready for more + than she could afford to take. Emily was invaluable as manager and + assistant, and Captain Obed Bangs assisted and advised in every way that + 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. And Captain Obed + was always only too glad to help. Hannah Parker declared he spent more + time at the boarding house than he did at her home. + </p> + <p> + If Emily Howes noticed how frequently the captain called—and it is + probable that she did—she said nothing about it. John Kendrick must + have noticed it, for occasionally, when he and Captain Obed were alone, he + made an irrelevant remark like the following: + </p> + <p> + “Captain,” he said, on one occasion, “I think you're growing younger every + day.” + </p> + <p> + “Who? Me? Go on, John! How you talk! I'm so old my timbers creak every + time I go up a flight of stairs. They'll be sendin' me to the junk pile + pretty soon.” + </p> + <p> + “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 you were + such a lady's man.” + </p> + <p> + “Me? A lady's man? Tut, tut! Don't talk foolish. If I've cruised alone all + these years I cal'late that's proof enough of how much a lady's man I am.” + </p> + <p> + “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 everyone + knows what a lady's man he is.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! You ain't comparin' me to Heman Daniels, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “No. No, of course not. I shouldn't dare. Comparing any mortal with + Daniels would be heresy, wouldn't it? But you certainly are popular with + the fair sex. Why, even Imogene has fallen under the influence. She says + Mrs. Barnes thinks you are the finest man in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “She does, hey? Well,” tartly, “she better mind her own affairs. I thought + she rated Kenelm Parker about as high as anybody these days. He spends + more time in that kitchen of hers—” + </p> + <p> + “There, there, Captain! Don't sidestep. The fair Imogene may be + susceptible to Mr. Parker's charms, but that is probably because you + haven't smiled upon her. If you—” + </p> + <p> + “Say, look here, John Kendrick! If you keep on talkin' loony in this way + I'll begin to heave out a few hints myself. I may be as popular as you + say, with Imogene and—and the help, but I know somebody else that is + catchin' the same disease.” + </p> + <p> + “Meaning Mr. Daniels, I suppose? He is popular, I admit.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he? Well, you ought to know best. Seems to me I can call to mind + somebody 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.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry. My accepting my cousin's retainer may—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I didn't mean that. What was you and Emily doin' at Chris Badger's + store yesterday afternoon?” + </p> + <p> + “Doing? Yesterday? Oh, yes! I did meet Miss Howes while I was on my way to + the office and I waited while she did a little marketing. What in the + world—” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin'. Fur's that goes I don't think either of you knew you was IN the + world. I passed right by and you didn't see me. Heman saw you, too. What + was your marketin'—vegetables?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe so. Captain, you're sidestepping again. It was of you, not me, + I was speaking when—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know. Well, I'm speakin' about you now. Heman saw you buyin' them + vegetables. Tomatters, wa'n't they?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so. Have you been drinking? What difference does it make whether + we bought tomatoes or potatoes?” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't make none—to me. But I bet Heman didn't like to see you two + buyin' tomatters.” + </p> + <p> + “For heaven's sake, why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, 'cause he probably remembered, same as I did, what folks used to call + 'em in the old days.” + </p> + <p> + “You HAVE been drinking! What did they use to call them?” + </p> + <p> + “Love apples,” replied Captain Obed, and strode away chuckling. John + watched him go. He, too, laughed at first, but his laugh broke off in the + middle and when he went into the house his expression was troubled and + serious. + </p> + <p> + One remark of the captain's was true enough; John Kendrick's popularity + with his professional rival was growing daily less. The pair were + scrupulously polite to each other, but they seldom spoke except when + others were present, and Mr. Daniels made it a point apparently to be + present whenever Miss Howes was in the room. He continued to bring his + little offerings of fruit and flowers and his invitations for drives and + 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 tennis on his + cousin's courts, and these invitations she treated as she did Heman's, + refusing some and accepting others. She treated the pair with impartiality + and yet Thankful was growing to believe there was a difference. Imogene, + outspoken, expressed her own feelings in the matter when she said, + </p> + <p> + “Miss Emily likes Mr. Kendrick pretty well, don't she, ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful regarded her maidservant with disapproval. + </p> + <p> + “What makes you say that, Imogene?” she demanded. “Of course she likes + him. Why shouldn't she?” + </p> + <p> + “She should, ma'am. And she does, too. And he likes her; that's plain + enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Imogene, what are you hintin' at? Do you mean that my cousin is in—in + love with Mr. John Kendrick?” + </p> + <p> + “No'm. I don't say that, not yet. But there's signs that—” + </p> + <p> + “Signs! If you don't get those ridiculous story-book notions out of your + head I don't know what I'll do to you. What do you know about folks bein' + in love? You ain't in love, I hope; are you?” + </p> + <p> + Imogene hesitated. “No, ma'am,” she replied. “I ain't. But—but maybe + I might be, if I wanted to.” + </p> + <p> + “For mercy sakes! The girl's crazy. You MIGHT be—if you wanted to! + Who with? If you're thinkin' of marryin' anybody seems to me I ought to + know it. 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' of fallin' + in love—or marryin'—” + </p> + <p> + Imogene interrupted. “I ain't,” she declared. “And, anyhow, ma'am, gettin' + married don't necessarily mean you're in love.” + </p> + <p> + “It don't! Well, this beats all I ever—” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am, it don't. Sometimes it's a person's duty to get married.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful gasped. “Duty!” she repeated. “You HAVE been readin' more of + those books, in spite of your promisin' me you wouldn't.” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am, I ain't. Honest, I ain't.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what do you mean? Imogene, what man do you care enough for to make + you feel it's your—your duty to marry him?” + </p> + <p> + “No man at all,” declared Imogene, promptly and decisively. And that is + all she would say on the subject. + </p> + <p> + Thankful repeated this astonishing conversation, or part of it, to Emily. + The latter considered it a good joke. “That girl is a strange creature,” + she said, “and great fun. You never can tell what she will say or think. + She is very romantic and that nonsense about duty and the rest of it + undoubtedly is taken from some story she has read. You needn't worry, + Auntie. Imogene worships you, and she will never leave you—to be + married, or for any other reason.” + </p> + <p> + So Thankful did not worry about Imogene. She had other worries, those + connected with a houseful of boarders, and these were quite sufficient. + And now came another. Kenelm Parker was threatening to leave her employ. + </p> + <p> + The statement is not strictly true. Kenelm, himself, never threatened to + do anything. But another person did the threatening for him and that + person 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, but they + were confined to the yard and stable; she no longer called at the house. + Her manner toward Emily and Thankful was cordial enough perhaps, but there + was constraint in it and she asked a good many questions concerning her + brother's hours of labor, what he did during the day, and the like. + </p> + <p> + “She acts awful queer, seems to me,” said Thankful. “Not the way she did + at first at all. In the beginnin' I had to plan pretty well to keep her + from runnin' in and sp'ilin' my whole mornin' with her talk. Now she seems + to be keepin' out of my way. What we've done to make her act so I can't + see, and neither can Emily.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Bangs, to whom this remark was addressed, laughed. + </p> + <p> + “You ain't done anything, I guess,” he said. “It ain't you she's down on; + it's your hired girl, the Imogene one. She seems to be more down on that + 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 gives her as + good as she sends. It's got so that Hannah is actually scared of that + girl; don't pretend to be, of course; calls her 'the inmate' and all sorts + of names. But she is scared of her and don't like her.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful was troubled. “I'm sorry,” she said. “Imogene is independent, but + she's an awful kind-hearted girl. I do hate trouble amongst neighbors.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there won't be any trouble. Hannah's jealous, that's all the trouble—jealous + about Kenelm. You see, she wanted him to come here to work so's she could + have him under her thumb and run over and give him orders every few + minutes. Imogene gives him orders, too, and he minds; she makes him. + Hannah don't like that; 'cordin' to her notion Kenelm hadn'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.” + </p> + <p> + But when Kenelm announced that he wasn't sure but that he should “heave up + his job” in a fortnight or so, the situation became more serious. + </p> + <p> + “He mustn't leave,” declared Thankful. “August and early September are the + times when I've got to have a man on the place, and you say yourself, + Captain Bangs, that there isn't another man to be had just now. If he goes—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he won't go. This is more of Hannah's talk; she's put him up to this + leavin' business. Offer him another dollar a week, if you have to, and + I'll do some preachin' to Hannah, myself.” + </p> + <p> + When Thankful mentioned the matter to Imogene the latter's comment was + puzzling but emphatic. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you fret, ma'am,” she said. “He ain't left yet.” + </p> + <p> + “I know; but he says—” + </p> + <p> + “HE don't say it. It's that sister of his does all the sayin'. And SHE + ain't workin' for you that I know of.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Imogene, we mustn't, any of us, interfere between Kenelm and his + sister. She IS his sister, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm. But she isn't his mother and his grandmother and his aunt and all + his relations. And, if she was, 'twouldn't make no difference. He's the + one to say whether he's goin' to leave or not.” + </p> + <p> + “But he does say it. That is, he—” + </p> + <p> + “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 and + see. If worst comes to worst I've got a—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped short. “What have you got, Imogene?” asked Mrs. Barnes. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothin', ma'am. Only you just wait.” + </p> + <p> + So Thankful waited and Kenelm, perfectly aware of the situation, and + backed 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 and departing + were irregular, to say the least. + </p> + <p> + On the last Thursday, Friday and Saturday of August the Ostable County + Cattle Show and Fair was to be held at the county seat. The annual Cattle + Show is a big event on the Cape and practically all of East Wellmouth was + planning to attend. Most of the High Cliff boarders were going to the Fair + and, Friday being the big day, they were going on Friday. Imogene asked + for a holiday on that day. The request was granted. Then Kenelm announced + that he and Hannah were cal'latin' to go. Thankful was somewhat reluctant; + she felt that to be deprived of the services of both her hired man and + maid on the same day might be troublesome. But as the Parker announcement + was more in the nature of an ultimatum than a request, she said yes under + protest. But when Captain Obed appeared and invited her and John Kendrick + and Emily Howes to go to the Fair with him in a hired motor car she was + more troubled than ever. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to go, Cap'n,” she said. “Oh, I WOULD like to go! I haven't had + a day off since this place opened and I never rode in an automobile more'n + three times in my life. But I can't do it. You and Emily and John can, of + course, and you must; but I've got to stay here. Some of the boarders will + be here for their meals and I can't leave the house alone.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed uttered a dismayed protest. + </p> + <p> + “Sho!” he exclaimed. “Sho! That's too bad. Why, I counted more on your + goin' than—Humph! You've just got to go, that's all. Can't Imogene + look after the house?” + </p> + <p> + “She could if she was goin' to be here, but she's goin' to the Fair + herself. I promised her she could and I must keep my promise.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; I presume likely you must. But now, Mrs. Thankful—” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid there can't be any 'but,' Cap'n. You and Mr. Kendrick and + Emily go and I'll get my fun thinkin' what a good time you'll have.” + </p> + <p> + She was firm and at last the captain yielded. But his keen disappointment + was plainly evident. He said but little during his stay at the + boarding-house and went home early, glum and disconsolate. At the Parker + domicile he found Kenelm and his sister in a heated argument. + </p> + <p> + “I don't care, Hannah,” vowed Kenelm. “I'm a-goin' to that Fair, no matter + if I do have to go alone. Didn't you tell me I was goin'? Didn't you put + me up to askin' for the day off? Didn't you—” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind what I did. I give in I had planned for you to go, but that + was when I figgered on you and me goin' together. Now that Mr. Hammond has + invited me to go along with him—” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed interrupted. “Hello! Hello!” he exclaimed. “What's this? Has + Caleb Hammond offered to go gallivantin' off to the Ostable Cattle Show + along with you, Hannah? Well, well! Wonders'll never cease. Caleb's + gettin' gay in his old age, ain't he? Humph! there'll be somethin' else + for the postoffice gang to talk about, first thing you know. Hannah, I'm + surprised!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Parker colored and seemed embarrassed. Her brother, however, voiced + his disgust. + </p> + <p> + “Surprised!” he repeated. “Huh! That's nuthin' to what I am. I'm more'n + surprised—I'm paralyzed. To think of that tightfisted old fool + lettin' go of money enough to hire a horse and team and—” + </p> + <p> + “Kenelm!” Hannah's voice quivered with indignation. “Kenelm Parker! The + idea!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's what I say, the idea! Here's an old critter—yes, he is + old, too. He's so nigh seventy he don't dast look at the almanac for fear + he'll find it's past his birthday. And he's always been so tight with + money that he'd buy second-hand postage stamps if the Gov'ment wouldn'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—” + </p> + <p> + “Kenelm Parker, you stop this minute! I'm ashamed of you. Mr. Hammond's a + real, nice, respectable man. As to his money—well, that's his + business anyhow, and, besides, he ain't hirin' the horse and buggy; he's + goin' to borrow it off his nephew over to the Centre. His askin' me to go + is a real neighborly act.” + </p> + <p> + “Huh! If he's so plaguy neighborly why don't he ask me to go, too? I'm as + nigh a neighbor as you be, ain't I?” + </p> + <p> + “He don't ask you because the buggy won't hold but two, and you know it. 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 the fare on + the excursion train is—” + </p> + <p> + “Now what kind of talk's that! I ain't complainin' 'cause you save the + expense. And I don't care if you go along with all the old men from here + to Joppa. What I'm sayin' is that I'm goin' to that Fair tomorrow. I can + go alone in the cars, I guess. There won't nobody kidnap me, as I know + of.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Kenelm, I don't like to have you over there all by yourself. It'll + be so lonesome for you. If you'll only wait maybe I'll go again, myself. + Maybe we could both go together on Saturday.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to go Saturday; I want to go tomorrow. Tomorrow's the big + day, when they have the best horse-racin'. Why, Darius Holt is cal'latin' + to make money tomorrow. He's got ten dollars bet on Exie B. in the second + race and—” + </p> + <p> + “Kenelm Parker! Is THAT what you want to go to that Cattle Show for? To + bet on horse trots! To gamble!” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, dry up. How'd I gamble? You don't let me have money enough to put in + the collection box Sundays, let alone gamblin'. I have to shove my fist + clear way down to the bottom of the plate whenever they pass it for 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 Fair alone as not. + I won't be lonesome. Lots of folks I know are goin'; men and women, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Women? What women?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know. How should I know?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—well, I suppose likely they are. Imogene said she was goin' + and—” + </p> + <p> + “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. I + wouldn't trust her not to; sassy, impudent thing! I don't believe she's + goin' at all. Is she, Cap'n Bangs?” + </p> + <p> + The captain, who had remained silent during this family jar, could not + resist the temptation. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, Imogene's goin',” he answered, cheerfully. “She's countin' on + havin' 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 Abbie Larkin + arrangin' for her passage with Winnie S. yesterday afternoon. Win said, + 'Judas priest!' He didn't know where he was goin' to put her, but he + cal'lated he'd have to find stowage room somewhere. Oh, Kenelm won't be + lonesome, Hannah. I shouldn't worry about that.” + </p> + <p> + Kenelm looked as if he wished the speaker might choke. Hannah straightened + in her chair. + </p> + <p> + “Hum!” she mused. “Hum!” and was silent for a moment. Then she asked: + </p> + <p> + “Is Mrs. Thankful goin', too? I suppose likely she is.” + </p> + <p> + The captain's cheerfulness vanished. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, shortly, “she isn't. She wanted to, but she doesn't feel + she can leave the boardin'-house with nobody to look after it.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Parker seemed pleased, for some reason or other. + </p> + <p> + “I don't wonder,” she said, heartily. “She shouldn't be left all alone + herself, either. If that ungrateful, selfish Orphan's Home minx is selfish + enough to go and leave her, all the more reason my brother shouldn't. + Whatever else us Parkers may be, we ain't selfish. We think about others. + Kenelm, dear, you must stay at work and help Mrs. Barnes around the house + tomorrow. You and I'll go to the Fair on Saturday. I don't mind; I'd just + as soon go twice as not.” + </p> + <p> + Kenelm sprang to his feet. He was so angry that he stuttered. + </p> + <p> + “You—you—YOU don't care!” he shouted. “'Cause you're goin' + TWICE! That's a divil of a don't care, that is!” + </p> + <p> + “Kenelm! My own brother! Cursin' and swearin'!” + </p> + <p> + “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 up my + 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—and help + out that very boardin'-house. I won't! By—by thunder-mighty, I + won't! I'm goin' to that Cattle Show tomorrow if it takes my last cent.” + </p> + <p> + 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'.” + </p> + <p> + “I've got more'n you have. I—I—everything there is here—yes, + and every cent there is here—belongs to me by rights. You ain't got + nothin' of your own.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Parker turned upon him. “To think,” she wailed, brokenly, “to think + that my own brother—all the brother I've got—can stand afore + me and heave my—my poverty in my face. I may be dependent on him. I + am, I suppose. But Oh, the disgrace of it! the—Oh! Oh! Oh!” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed hurried upstairs to his room. Long after he had shut the door + he heard the sounds of Hannah's sobs and Kenelm's pleadings that he “never + meant nothin'.” Then came silence and, at last, the sounds of footsteps on + the stairs. They halted in the upper hall. + </p> + <p> + “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 to you—” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Hannah, there you go again. How could you be my mother when you + ain't but four year older'n I be? You just give me a few dollars and let + me go to that Cattle Show and—” + </p> + <p> + “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 must stay + there and help her tomorrow. It's your duty.” + </p> + <p> + “Darn my duty! I'll LEAVE tomorrow, that's what I'll do.” + </p> + <p> + “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 come + to this?” + </p> + <p> + The footsteps and voices died away. Captain Obed blew out the light and + got into bed. The last words he heard that night were uttered by the + “prodigate” himself on his way to his sleeping quarters. And they were + spoken as a soliloquy. + </p> + <p> + “By time!” muttered Kenelm, as he shuffled slowly past the Captain's door. + “By time! I—I'll do somethin' desperate!” + </p> + <p> + Next morning, when Captain Obed's hired motor car, with its owner, a + Wellmouth Centre man, acting as chauffeur, rolled into the yard of the + High Cliff House, a party of three came out to meet it. John Kendrick and + Emily Howes were of the party and they were wrapped and ready for the + trip. The captain had expected them; but the third, also dressed for the + journey, was Mrs. Thankful Barnes. Thankful's plump countenance was + radiant. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The captain's joy was as great as his surprise. “Place to put you!” he + repeated. “If I couldn't do anything else I'd hang on behind, like a + youngster 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't + leave.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful smiled happily. “I didn't change my mind, Cap'n,” she said. + “Imogene changed hers. She's a real, good sacrificin' body, the girl is. + When she found I'd been asked and wouldn't go, she put her foot down flat. + Nothin' would do but she should stay at home today and I should go. I knew + what a disappointment 'twas to her, but she just made me do it. She'll go + tomorrow instead; that's the way we fixed it finally. I'm awful glad for + myself, but I do feel mean about Imogene, just the same.” + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later, the auto, with John, Emily and Thankful on the rear + seat and Captain Obed in front with the driver, rolled out of the yard and + along the sandy road toward Wellmouth Centre. About a mile from the latter + village it passed a buggy with two people in it. The pair in the buggy + were Caleb Hammond and Hannah Parker. + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed chuckled. “There go the sweethearts,” he observed. “Handsome + young couple, ain't they?” + </p> + <p> + The other occupants of the car joined in the laugh. Emily, in particular, + was greatly amused. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you call them sweethearts, Captain?” she asked. “You don't really + suppose—” + </p> + <p> + The captain burst into a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “What? Those two?” he said. “No, no, I was only jokin'. I don't know about + Hannah—single women her age are kind of chancey—but I do know + Caleb. He ain't takin' a wife to support, not unless she can support him. + He had a chance to use a horse and buggy free for nothin', that's all; and + it would be against his principles to let a chance like that go by. + Cal'late he took Hannah 'cause he knew ice cream and peanuts don't agree + with her dyspepsy and so he wouldn't have to buy any. Ho, ho! I wonder how + Kenelm made out? Wonder if he went on his own hook, after all?” + </p> + <p> + In the kitchen of the High Cliff House Imogene was washing the breakfast + dishes and trying to forget her disappointment. A step sounded in the + woodshed and, turning, she beheld Mr. Parker. He saw her at the same time + and the surprise was mutual. + </p> + <p> + “Why, hello!” exclaimed Imogene. “I thought you'd gone to the Fair.” + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” cried Kenelm. “Thought you'd gone to the Cattle Show.” + </p> + <p> + Explanations followed. “What ARE you cal'latin' to do, then?” demanded + Kenelm, moodily. + </p> + <p> + “Me? Stay here on my job, of course. That's what you're goin' to do, too, + ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Parker thrust his hands into his pockets. + </p> + <p> + “No, by time, I ain't!” he declared, fiercely. “I ain't got any job no + more. I've quit, I have.” + </p> + <p> + “Quit! You mean you ain't goin' to work for Mrs. Thankful?” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't gain' to work for nobody. Why should I? I've got money enough to + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Imogene put down the dishcloth. + </p> + <p> + “This is your sister's doin's, I guess likely,” she observed. + </p> + <p> + “No, it ain't! If—if it was, by time, I wouldn't do it! Hannah + treats me like a dog—yes, sir, like a dog. I'm goin' to show her. A + man's got some feelin's, if he is a dog.” + </p> + <p> + “How are you goin' to show her?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, but I be. I'll run away, if I can't do nothin' else. I'll + show her I'm sick of her bossin'.” + </p> + <p> + Imogene seemed to be thinking. She regarded Mr. Parker with a steady and + reflective stare. + </p> + <p> + “What are you lookin' at me like that for?” demanded Kenelm, after the + stare had become unbearable. + </p> + <p> + “I was thinkin'. Humph! What would you do to fix it so's your sister would + stop her bossin' and you could have your own way once in a while?” + </p> + <p> + “Do? By time, I'd do anything! Anything, by thunder-mighty!” + </p> + <p> + “You would? You mean it?” + </p> + <p> + “You bet I mean it!” + </p> + <p> + “Would you promise to stay right here and work for Mrs. Thankful as long + as she wanted you to?” + </p> + <p> + “Course I would. I ain't anxious to leave. It's Hannah that's got that + notion. Fust she was dead sot on my workin' here and now she's just as sot + on my leavin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know why she's so—what do you call it?—sot?” + </p> + <p> + Kenelm fidgeted and looked foolish. “Well,” he admitted, “I—I + wouldn't wonder if 'twas account of you, Imogene. Hannah knows I—I + like you fust rate, that we're good friends, I mean. She's—well, + consarn it all!—she's jealous, that's what's the matter. She's awful + silly that way. I can't so much as look at a woman, but she acts like a + plumb idiot. Take that Abbie Larkin, for instance. One time she—ho, + ho! I did kind of get ahead of her then, though.” + </p> + <p> + Imogene nodded. “Yes,” she said; “I heard about that. Well, maybe you can + get ahead of her again. You wait a minute.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What's them things for?” demanded Mr. Kenelm. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you pretty soon. Kenelm, you—you asked me somethin' a + while ago, didn't you?” + </p> + <p> + Kenelm started. “Why—why, Imogene,” he stammered, “I—I don't + know's I know what you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess you know, all right. You did ask me—or, anyhow, you would + if I hadn't said no before you had the chance. You like me pretty well, + don't you, Kenelm?” + </p> + <p> + This pointed question seemed to embarrass Mr. Parker greatly. He turned + red and glanced at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, yes, I like you fust rate, Imogene,” he admitted. “I—I + don't know'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 + desperate along of Hannah and—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you're desperate now, ain't you? Here,” sharply, “you sit still and + 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?” + </p> + <p> + The “big day” of the Ostable County Cattle Show and Fair came to an end as + all days, big or little, have to come. Captain Obed Bangs and his guests + enjoyed every minute of it. They inspected the various exhibits, witnessed + the horse races and the baseball game, saw the balloon ascension, and + thrilled with the rest of the great crowd at the “parachute drop.” It was + six o'clock when they left the Fair grounds and Thankful began to worry + about the condition of affairs at the High Cliff House. + </p> + <p> + “It'll be way past dinner time when you and I get there, Emily,” she said, + “and goodness knows what my boarders have had to eat. Imogene's smart and + capable enough, but whether she can handle everything alone I don't know. + We ought to have started sooner, but it's nobody's fault more'n mine that + we didn't.” + </p> + <p> + However, when the High Cliff House was reached its proprietor found that + her fears were groundless. But a few of the boarders had planned to eat + their evening meal there; most of the city contingent were stopping at + various teahouses and restaurants in Ostable or along the road and would + not be home until late. + </p> + <p> + “Everything's fine, ma'am,” declared Imogene. “There was only three or + four here for supper and I fixed them all right. Mr. Hammond came in late, + but I fed him up and he's gone to bed. Tired out, I guess. I asked him if + he had a good time and he said he had, but it cost him a sight of money.” + </p> + <p> + 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 take warnin', + John.” + </p> + <p> + John Kendrick smiled. “Considering,” he said, “that you and I have almost + come to blows before I was permitted to even buy a package of popcorn with + my own money, I think you need the warning more than I, Cap'n Bangs.” + </p> + <p> + “Imogene,” said Thankful, “you've been a real, nice girl today; you've + helped 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.” + </p> + <p> + Imogene shook her head. “I can't go right now, thank you, ma'am,” she + said. “I've got company.” + </p> + <p> + Emily and Thankful looked at each other. + </p> + <p> + “Company!” repeated the former. “What company?” + </p> + <p> + Before Imogene could answer the dining-room door was flung open and Hannah + 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 general appearance + indicated alarm and apprehension. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Hannah!” exclaimed Thankful. “Why, Miss Parker, what's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Hannah's glance swept the group before her; then it fastened upon Imogene. + </p> + <p> + “Where's my brother?” she demanded. “Have you seen my brother?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Bangs broke in. + </p> + <p> + “Your brother? Kenelm?” he asked. “Why, what about Kenelm? Ain't he to + home?” + </p> + <p> + “No. No, he ain't. And he ain't been home, either. I left a cold supper + for him on the table, and I put the teapot on the rack of the stove ready + for him to bile. But he ain't been there. It ain't been touched. I—I + can't think what—” + </p> + <p> + 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 there + now. He's the company I said I had, Mrs. Thankful.” + </p> + <p> + Hannah stared at her. Imogene returned the gaze coolly, blandly and with a + serene air of confident triumph. + </p> + <p> + “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 from you.” + </p> + <p> + Hannah Parker pushed by her and rushed for the kitchen. Imogene followed + her and the others followed Imogene. As Thankful said, describing her own + feelings, “I couldn't have stayed behind if I wanted to. My feet had + curiosity enough to go by themselves.” + </p> + <p> + Kenelm, who had been sitting by the kitchen table before a well-filled + plate, had heard his sister's approach and had risen. When Mrs. Barnes and + the others reached the kitchen he had backed into a corner. + </p> + <p> + “Kenelm Parker,” demanded Hannah, “what are you doin' here, this time of + night?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I been eatin' supper,” stammered Kenelm, “but I—I'm through + now.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + Imogene interrupted. “I guess you did, ma'am,” she said, “but you see I + asked him to stay here, so he stayed.” + </p> + <p> + “YOU asked him! And he stayed! Well, I must say! Kenelm, have you been + eatin' supper alone with that—with that—” + </p> + <p> + She was too greatly agitated to finish, but as Kenelm did not answer, + Imogene did, without waiting. + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm,” she said, soothingly. “It's all right. Kenelm and me can eat + together, if we want to, I guess. We're engaged.” + </p> + <p> + “ENGAGED!” Almost everyone said it—everyone except Hannah; she could + not say anything. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Imogene. “We're engaged to be married. We are, aren't we, + Kenelm?” + </p> + <p> + Kenelm tried to back away still further, but the wall was behind him and + he could only back against it. He was pale and he swallowed several times. + </p> + <p> + “Kenelm, dear,” said Imogene, “didn't you hear me? Tell your sister about + our bein' engaged.” + </p> + <p> + Kenelm's mouth opened and shut. “Eh—eh—” he stammered. “I—I—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be bashful,” urged Imogene. “We're engaged to be married, ain't + we?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Parker gulped, choked and then nodded. “Yes,” he admitted, faintly. “I—I + cal'late we be.” + </p> + <p> + His sister took a step forward, her arm raised. Captain Obed stepped in + front of her. + </p> + <p> + “Just a minute, Hannah! Heave to! Come up into the wind a jiffy. Let's get + this thing straight. Kenelm, do you mean—” + </p> + <p> + The gentleman addressed seemed to mean very little, just then. But + Imogene's coolness was quite unruffled and again she answered for him. + </p> + <p> + “He means just what he said,” she declared, “and what he said was plain + enough, I should think. I don't know why there should be so much row about + it. Mr. Parker and I have been good friends ever since I come here to + work. He's asked me to marry him some time or other and I said maybe I + would. That makes us engaged, same's I've been tryin' to tell you. And + what all this row is about I can't see. It's our business, ain't it? I + can't see as it's anybody else's.” + </p> + <p> + But Hannah was by this time beyond holding back. She pushed aside the + captain's arm and faced the engaged couple. Her eyes flashed and her + fingers twitched. + </p> + <p> + “You—you designin' critter you!” she shouted, addressing Imogene. + “You plannin', schemin', underhanded—” + </p> + <p> + “Shh! shh!” put in Captain Obed. “Easy, Hannah! easy, there!” + </p> + <p> + “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—this + INMATE? What do you mean by it?” + </p> + <p> + Poor Kenelm only gurgled. His lady love once more came to his rescue. + </p> + <p> + “He's told you times enough what he means,” she asserted, firmly. “And + I'll thank you not to call me names, either. In the first place I won't + stand it; and, in the second, if you and me are goin' to be + sisters-in-law, we'd better learn how to get along peaceable together. I—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you talk to me! Don't you DARE talk to me! I might have expected + it! I did expect it. So this is why you two didn't go to the Fair? You had + this all planned between you. I was to be got out of the way, and—” + </p> + <p> + “That's enough of that, too. There wasn't any plannin' about it—not + until today, anyhow. I didn't know he wasn't goin' to the Fair and he + didn't know I wasn't. He would have gone only—only you deserted him + to go off with your own—your own gentleman friend. Humph! I should + think you would look ashamed!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Parker's “shame”—or her feelings, whatever they might be—seemed + to render her speechless. Her brother saw his chance. + </p> + <p> + “You know that's just what you done, Hannah,” he put in, pleadingly. “You + know you did. I was so lonesome—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Hush, Kenelm!” ordered Imogene. “You left him alone to go with + another man, Miss Parker. For all he knew you might be—be runnin' + off to be married, or somethin'. So he come to where he had a friend, + that's all. 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.” + </p> + <p> + This speech was too much for Emily; she laughed aloud. That laugh was the + final straw. Hannah made a dive for her brother. + </p> + <p> + “You come home with me,” she commanded. “You come right straight home with + 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 my brother'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'll stay. He's + worked in this place as long as he's goin' to, Miss Inmate. I'll take him + out of YOUR clutches.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, you won't! Him and me are goin' to the Fair tomorrow and on Monday + he's comin' back to work here same as ever. You are, ain't you, Kenelm?” + </p> + <p> + Kenelm gulped and fidgeted. “I—I—I—” he stuttered. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Hannah,” continued Imogene—“I suppose I might as well + begin to call you 'Hannah,' seein' as we're goin' to be relations pretty + soon—you see, he's engaged to me now and he'll do what I ask him to, + of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Engaged! He ain't engaged! I'll fix the 'engagement.' That'll be broke + off this very minute.” + </p> + <p> + And now Imogene played her best trump. She took from her waist a slip of + paper and handed it to Captain Obed. + </p> + <p> + “Just read that out loud, won't you, please, Cap'n Bangs?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + The captain stared at the slip of paper. Then, in a choked voice, he read + aloud the following: + </p> + <p> + I, Kenelm Issachar Parker, being in sound mind and knowing what I am + doing, ask Imogene to be my wife and I agree to marry her any time she + wants me to. + </p> + <p> + (Signed) KENELM ISSACHAR PARKER. + </p> + <p> + “There!” exclaimed Imogene. “I guess that settles it, don't it? I've got + witnesses, anyhow, and right here, to our engagement. You all heard us + both say we was engaged. But that paper settles it. Kenelm and I knew + mighty well that you'd try to break off the engagement and say there + wasn't any; but you can't break THAT.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't? I like to know why I can't! What do you suppose I care for such + a—a—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you don't, then the law does. If you make your brother break his + engagement to me, Hannah Parker, I'll take that piece of paper right to a + lawyer and make him sue Kenelm for—for breach of promises. You know + 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. If you + don't believe it you try and see. And there's two lawyers livin' right in + this house,” she added triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + If she expected a sensation her expectations were realized. Hannah was + again stricken dumb. Captain Bangs and Emily and John Kendrick looked at + each other, then the captain doubled up with laughter. Mrs. Barnes and + Kenelm, however, did not laugh. The latter seemed tremendously surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, Imogene,” he protested, “how you talk! I never thought—” + </p> + <p> + “Kenelm, be still.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Imogene,” begged Thankful, “you mustn't say such things. I never—” + </p> + <p> + “Now, ma'am, please don't you butt in. I know what I'm doin'. Please don't + talk to me now. There, Kenelm,” turning to the trembling nominee for + matrimonial offices, “that'll do for tonight. You go along with your + sister and be on hand ready to take me to the Cattle Show tomorrow. Good + night—er—dear.” + </p> + <p> + 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 all + events, she fired a last broadside. + </p> + <p> + “He SHAN'T go with you tomorrow,” she shrieked. “He shan't; I won't let + him.” + </p> + <p> + Imogene nodded. “All right,” she said, firmly. “Then if he don't I'll come + 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 the lawyer + with that paper.” + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later, when the Parkers had gone and the sound of Hannah's + tirade and Kenelm's protestations had died away on the path toward their + home, Thankful, John and Captain Obed sat gazing at each other in the + living room. Imogene and Emily were together in the kitchen. The “engaged” + young lady had expressed a desire to speak with Miss Howes alone. + </p> + <p> + John and the captain were still chuckling, but Thankful refused to see the + joke; she was almost in tears. + </p> + <p> + “It's dreadful!” she declared. “Perfectly awful! And Imogene! To act and + speak so to our next-door neighbor! What WILL come of it? And how COULD + she? How could she get engaged to THAT man, of all men? He's old enough to + be her father and—and she CAN'T care for him.” + </p> + <p> + Emily entered the room. She was apparently much agitated and her eyes were + moist. She collapsed in a rocking-chair and put her handkerchief to her + face. + </p> + <p> + “Land sakes!” cried Captain Obed. “Is it as bad as that? Does it make you + cry?” + </p> + <p> + Emily removed the handkerchief. “I'm not crying,” she gasped. “I—I—Oh + dear! This is the funniest thing that girl has done yet.” + </p> + <p> + “But what is it?” asked John. “What's the answer? We're dying to know.” + </p> + <p> + Emily shook her head. “I can't tell you,” she said. “I promised I + wouldn't. It—it all came of a talk Imogene and I had a while ago. We + were speaking of self-sacrifice and she—she adores you, Auntie, and—” + </p> + <p> + 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—” + </p> + <p> + “She hasn't married anyone yet. Oh, it is all right, Auntie; she knows + what she is doing, or she thinks she does. And, at any rate, I think there + is no danger of Mr. Parker's giving up his situation here until you are + ready to have him do it. There! I mustn't say another word. I have said + too much already.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “it's too thick off the bows for me to see more'n a foot; + I give in to that. But I will say this: If that Imogene girl don't know + what she's up to it's the fust time since I've been acquainted with her. + 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 brother or his + money, one or t'other, and she'd rather lose the fust than the last, I'll + bet you. Ho, ho! Yes, it does look as if Imogene had Hannah in a clove + hitch. . . . Well, I'm goin' over to see what the next doin's in the + circus is liable to be. I wouldn't miss any of THIS show for no money. + Good night.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + The next morning Kenelm, arrayed in his best, was early on hand to escort + the lady of his choice to the Fair. The lady, herself, was ready and the + pair drove away in Winnie S.'s depot-wagon bound for Wellmouth Centre and + the train. Before she left the house Imogene made an earnest request. + </p> + <p> + “If you don't mind, ma'am,” she said, addressing Mrs. Barnes, “I wish 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-house last night + not to say anything, either, please.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Imogene,” said Thankful, “I didn't know you wanted it to be a + secret. Seems to me you said yourself that it wasn't any secret.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm, I know I did. Well, I suppose 'tain't, in one way. But there ain't + any use in advertisin' it, neither. Kenelm, he's promised to keep still.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Imogene, why? Seems to me if I was willin' to be engaged to that—to + Kenelm, I wouldn't be ashamed to have folks know it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I ain't ashamed exactly. I ain't ashamed of what I done, not a bit. + Only what's the use of tellin'?” + </p> + <p> + “But you'll have to tell some time; when you're married, sartin.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm. Well, we ain't married—yet.” + </p> + <p> + “But you're goin' to be, I should presume likely.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe so; but not for a good while, anyhow. If I am it won't make any + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I suppose that's one comfort, anyhow. I won't say anything about + your engagement and I'll ask the others not to. But folks are bound to + talk, Imogene. Miss Parker now—how are you goin' to stop her + tellin'?” + </p> + <p> + 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 as + there's a chance to break it off, she ain't. She'll keep still.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe so, but folks'll suspect, I guess. They'll think somethin's queer + when you and Kenelm go to the Cattle Show together today.” + </p> + <p> + “No, they won't. Why should they? Didn't Hannah Parker herself go + yesterday with Mr. Hammond? And didn't Mr. Kendrick go with Miss Emily? + Yes, and you with Cap'n Bangs? Lordy, ma'am, I—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't say 'Lordy,' Imogene,” cautioned Thankful, and hastened away. + Imogene looked after her and laughed to herself. + </p> + <p> + When Captain Obed made his morning call Mrs. Barnes told him of this + conversation. + </p> + <p> + “And how is Hannah this mornin'?” asked Thankful. “I was surprised enough + to see Kenelm in that depot-wagon. I never thought for a minute she'd let + him go.” + </p> + <p> + The captain chuckled. “Let him!” he repeated. “Why, Hannah helped him get + ready; picked out his necktie for him and loaded him up with clean + handkerchiefs 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.” + </p> + <p> + “She did! Mercy on us! Is the world comin' to an end? Last night she was—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know. Well, we've got to give Hannah credit; she's got a head on + 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 to you. Hannah's + thought it over, I cal'late, and she figgers that while there'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. You just see, Mrs. + Thankful—you see if Hannah ain't sweeter to Kenelm from this on than + a molasses jug stopper to a young one. She'll lay herself out to make his + home the softest spot in creation, so he'll think twice before 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 plank above water. Just watch and + see.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful looked doubtful. “Well, maybe so,” she said. “Maybe she will be + nice to her brother, but how about the rest of us? She wouldn't speak to + me last night, nor to Emily—and as for Imogene!” + </p> + <p> + “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's a 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. Last night + Hannah give me my orders to mind my own business. This mornin' she cooked + 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 play the game, and + she'll play it quiet. As for tellin' anybody her brother's engaged, you + needn't worry about that. She'll be the last one to tell.” + </p> + <p> + This prophecy seemed likely to prove true. The next time Thankful met + Hannah the latter greeted her like a long-lost friend. During a long + conversation she mentioned the subject of her brother's engagement but + once and then at the very end of the interview. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, by the way, Mrs. Thankful,” she said, “I do beg your pardon for + carryin' on the way I did at your house t'other night. The news was + pitched out at me so sudden that I was blowed right off my feet, as you + might say. I acted real unlikely, I know; but, you see, Kenelm does mean + so much to me that I couldn't bear to think of givin' him up to anybody + else. When I come to think it over I realized 'twa'n't no more'n I had + ought 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 + so much. 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' + about the engagin' yet awhile. I shouldn't mind, of course, but Kenelm, + he's set on keepin' it secret for a spell. There! I must run on. I've got + to go 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 pour in + hot water and there's more'n enough for a meal. Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + Imogene, when she returned from the Fair, announced that she had had a + perfectly lovely time. + </p> + <p> + “He ain't such bad company—Kenelm, I mean,” she observed. “He talks + a lot, but you don't have to listen unless you want to; and he enjoys + himself real well, considerin' how little practice he's had.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you meet anyone you knew?” asked Emily. + </p> + <p> + “No'm. We saw quite a lot of folks from East Wellmouth, but we saw 'em + first, so we didn't meet 'em. One kind of funny thing happened: a man who + was outside a snake tent, hollerin' for everybody to come in, saw us and + he says to me: 'Girlie,' he says—he was a fresh guy like all them + kind—'Girlie,' he says, 'ask your pa to take you in and see the + Serpent King eat 'em alive. Only ten cents, Pop,' he says to Kenelm. + 'Don't miss the chance to give your little girl a treat.' Kenelm was all + frothed up at bein' took for my father, but I told him he needn't get mad—if + I could stand it he could, I guessed.” + </p> + <p> + Kenelm reported for work as usual on Monday morning and he worked—actually + worked all day. For an accepted lover he appeared rather subdued and + silent. Captain Obed, who noticed his behavior, commented upon it. + </p> + <p> + “Cal'late Kenelm's beginnin' to realize gettin' engaged don't mean all + joy,” 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's here + Imogene orders him 'round the way a bucko mate used to order a roustabout. + 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 thin ice—worse'n that, + 'cause he can't stop on either side, got to keep runnin' between 'em and + look out and not fall in.” + </p> + <p> + Labor Day, the day upon which the Cape summer season really ends, did not, + to the High Cliff House, mean the general exodus which it means to most of + the Cape hotels. Some of Thankful's lodgers left, of course, but many + stayed, and were planning to stay through September if the weather + continued 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 after the + other the sojourners from the cities passed from grumbling at the weather + to trunk-packing and leaving. A few stayed on into the next week but when, + at the end of that week, a storm set in which was more severe than those + preceding it, even these optimists surrendered. Before that third week was + over the High Cliff House was practically deserted. Except for Heman + Daniels and John Kendrick and Miss Timpson and Caleb Hammond, Thankful and + Emily and Imogene were alone in the big house. + </p> + <p> + This upsetting of her plans and hopes worried Thankful not a little. + Emily, too, was troubled concerning her cousin's business outlook. The + High Cliff House had been a success during its first season, but it needed + the expected September and early October income to make it a success + financially. The expense had been great, much greater than Thankful had + expected or planned. It is true that the boarders, almost without + exception, had re-engaged rooms and board for the following summer, but + summer was a long way off. There was the winter to be lived through and + if, as they had hoped, additions and enlargements to the establishment + were to be made in the spring, more, a good deal more money, would be + needed. + </p> + <p> + “As I see it, Auntie,” said Emily, when they discussed the situation, “you + have splendid prospects here. Your first season has been all or more than + you dared hope for, and if we had had good weather—the sort of + weather everyone says the Cape usually has in the fall months—you + would have come out even or better. But, even then, to make this scheme a + real money-maker, you would be obliged to have more sleeping-rooms made + over, and a larger dining-room. Now why don't you go and see this—what + is he?—cousin of yours, Mr. Cobb, and tell him just how you stand? + Tell him of your prospects and your plans, and get him to advance you + another thousand dollars—more, if you can get it. Why don't you do + that?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful did not answer. She had few secrets from Emily, whom she loved as + dearly as a daughter, but one secret she had kept. Just why she had kept + 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. But she had + neither written nor told all of the circumstances of that visit, + especially of Mr. Cobb's attitude toward her and his reluctance to lend + the money. She said merely that he had lent it and Emily had evidently + taken it for granted that the loan was made because of the relationship + and kindly feeling between the two. Thankful, even now, did not undeceive + her. She felt a certain shame in doing so; a shame in admitting that a + relative of hers could be so mean and disobliging. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you go to Mr. Cobb again, Auntie?” repeated Emily. “He will + lend you more, I'm sure, if you explain all the circumstances. It would be + a perfectly safe investment for him, and you would pay interest, of + course.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Barnes shook her head. “I don't think I'd better, Emily,” she said. + “He's got one mortgage on this place already.” + </p> + <p> + “What of it? That was only for fifteen hundred and you have improved the + house and grounds ever so much since then. I think he'll be glad to let + you have another thousand. The mortgage he has is to run for three years, + you said, didn't you?” + </p> + <p> + Again Thankful did not answer. She had not said the mortgage was for a + term of three years; Emily had presumed that it was and she had not + undeceived her. She hesitated, and Emily noticed her hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “It is for three years, isn't it, Auntie?” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Barnes tried to evade the question. + </p> + <p> + “Why, not exactly, Emily,” she replied. “It ain't. You see, he thought + three years was a little mite too long, and so—and so we fixed up + for a shorter time. It's all right, though.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it? You are sure? Aunt Thankful, tell me truly: how long a term is + that mortgage?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's—it's only for a year, but—” + </p> + <p> + “A year? Why, then it will fall due next spring. You can't pay that + mortgage next spring, can you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know's I can, but—but it'll be all right, anyhow. He'll + renew it, if I ask him to, I presume likely.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course he will. He will have to. Auntie, you must go and see him at + once. If you don't I shall.” + </p> + <p> + If there was one point on which Thankful was determined, it was that Emily + should not meet Solomon Cobb. The money-lender had visited the High Cliff + premises but once during the summer and then Miss Howes was providentially + absent. + </p> + <p> + “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 relation + without draggin' other folks into it. I'll drive over and see him pretty + soon.” + </p> + <p> + “You must go at once. I shan't permit you to wait another week. It is + almost time for me to go back to my schoolwork, and I shan't go until I am + certain that mortgage is to be renewed and that your financial affairs are + all right. Do go, Auntie, please. Arrange to have the mortgage renewed and + try to get another loan. Promise me you will go tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + So Thankful was obliged to promise, and the following morning she drove + George Washington over the long road, now wet and soggy from the rain, to + Trumet. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Solomon Cobb's “henhouse” looked quite as dingy and dirty as when she + visited it before. Solomon himself was just as shabby and he pulled at his + whiskers with his accustomed energy. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” he said, peering over his spectacles. “What do you want? . . . + Oh, it's you, is it? What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful came forward. “Matter?” she repeated. “What in the world—what + made you think anything was the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Solomon stared at her fixedly. + </p> + <p> + “What did you come here for?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “To see you. That's worth comin' for, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + The joke was wasted, as all jokes seemed to be upon Mr. Cobb. He did not + smile. + </p> + <p> + “What made you come to see me?” he asked, still staring. + </p> + <p> + “What made me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. What made you? Have you found—has anybody told you—er—anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Anybody told me! My soul and body! That's what you said when I was here + before. Do you say it to everybody? What on earth do you mean by it? Who + would tell me anything? And what would they tell?” + </p> + <p> + Solomon pulled his whiskers. “Nothin', I guess,” he said, after a moment. + “Only there's so much fool talk runnin' loose I didn't know but you might + have heard I was—was dead, or somethin'. I ain't.” + </p> + <p> + “I can see that, I hope. And if you was I shouldn't be traipsin' ten miles + just to look at your remains. Time enough for that at the funeral. Dead! + The idea!” + </p> + <p> + “Um—well, all right; I ain't dead, yet. Set down, won't ye?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful sat down. Mr. Cobb swung about in his own chair, so that his face + was in the shadow. + </p> + <p> + “Hear you've been doin' pretty well with that boardin'-house of yours,” he + observed. “Hear it's been full up all summer.” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you so?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I heard. I hear about all that's goin' on, one way or another. I was + over there a fortni't ago.” + </p> + <p> + “You were? Why didn't you stop in and see me? You haven't been there but + once since the place started.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have. I've been by a good many times. Didn't stop, though. Too + many of them city dudes around to suit me. Did you fetch your October + interest money.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I didn't. It ain't due till week after next. When it is I'll send it, + same as I have the rest.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, all right, I ain't askin' you for it. What did you come for?” + </p> + <p> + And then Thankful told him. He listened without comment until she had + finished, peering over his spectacles and keeping up the eternal + “weeding.” + </p> + <p> + “There,” concluded Mrs. Barnes, “that's what I came for. Will you do it?” + </p> + <p> + The answer was prompt enough this time. + </p> + <p> + “No, I won't,” said Solomon, with decision. + </p> + <p> + Thankful was staggered. + </p> + <p> + “You won't?” she repeated. “You won't—” + </p> + <p> + “I won't lend you no more money. Why should I?” + </p> + <p> + “You shouldn't, I suppose, if you don't want to. But, the way I look at + it, it would be a perfectly safe loan for you. My prospects are fine; + everybody says so.” + </p> + <p> + “Everybody says a whole lot of things. If I'd put up money on what + everybody said I'd be puttin' up at the poorhouse, myself. But I ain't + puttin' up there and I ain't puttin' up the money neither.” + </p> + <p> + “All right; keep it then—keep it and sleep on it, if you want to. I + can get along without it, I guess; or, if I can't, I can borrow it of + somebody else.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! You're pretty sassy, seems to me, for anybody that's askin' + favors.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not askin' favors. I told you that when I first come to you. What I + asked was just business and nothin' else.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that so? As I understand it you're askin' to have a mortgage renewed. + That may be business, or it may be a favor, 'cordin' to how you look at + it.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful fought down her temper. The renewal of the mortgage was a vital + matter to her. If it was not renewed what should she do? What could she + do? All she had in the world and all her hopes for the future centered + about her property in East Wellmouth. If that were taken from her— + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she admitted, “perhaps it is a favor, then.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps 'tis. Why should I renew that mortgage? I don't cal'late to renew + mortgages, as a general thing. Did I say anything about renewin' it when I + took it? I don't remember that I did.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no—I guess you didn't. But I hope you will. If you don'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 in another year—I—I—Please, + Oh PLEASE don't close me out.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” + </p> + <p> + “Please don't. You told me when I was here before what a lot you thought + of my Uncle Abner. You knew how much he thought of me. When you think of + him and what he said—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cobb interrupted. “Said?” he repeated, sharply. “What do you mean he + said? Eh? What do YOU know he said?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, he told you about me. You said yourself he did. How much + he thought of me, and all.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all you meant?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course. What else is there to mean? Solomon, you profess to be a + Christian. You knew my uncle. He did lots of favors for you; I know he + did. Now—” + </p> + <p> + “Sshh! shh!” Mr. Cobb seemed strangely perturbed. He waved his hand. + “Hush!” he repeated. “What are you draggin' Cap'n Abner and Christianity + and all that in for? They ain't got nothin' to do with that mortgage. Who + said they had?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no one said it. No one said anything; no one but me. I don't know + what you mean—” + </p> + <p> + “Mean! I don't mean nothin'. There! There! Clear out and don't bother me + no more today. I'm—I ain't feelin' well. Got a cold comin' on, I + cal'late. Clear off home and let me alone.” + </p> + <p> + “But I can't go until you tell me about that mortgage.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you can, too. I can't tell you about nothin' just now. I got to + think, ain't I? Maybe I'll renew that mortgage and maybe I won't. I'll + tell 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.” + </p> + <p> + The last portion of the foregoing was addressed to a man who had entered + the office. Mr. Cobb did look as if he was really glad to see him. + </p> + <p> + Thankful rose. “I'll go,” she said, drearily. “I suppose I might as well. + But I shan't sleep much until you make up that mind of yours. And do make + it up the right way, for my sake—and Uncle Abner's.” + </p> + <p> + Her relative waved both hands this time. + </p> + <p> + “Shh!” he ordered, desperately. “Don't say no more now; I don't want the + whole creation to know my business and yours. Go on home. I—I'll + come over and see you by and by.” + </p> + <p> + So, because she saw there was no use remaining, Mrs. Barnes went. The + drive home, through the dismal grayness of the cloudy afternoon, seemed + longer and more trying than the trip over. The dream of raising money for + the spring additions and alterations was over; the High Cliff House must + do its best as it was for another year at least. As to the renewal of the + mortgage, there was a faint hope. Mr. Cobb's final remarks had inspired + that hope. He had been on the point of refusing to renew, Thankful was + sure of that. Then something was said which caused him to hesitate. Mrs. + Barnes looked out between the ears of jogging George Washington and spoke + her thought aloud. + </p> + <p> + “It's somethin' to do with Uncle Abner,” she soliloquized. “He don't like + to have Uncle Abner mentioned. Hum! I wonder what the reason is. I only + wish I knew.” + </p> + <p> + To Emily, who was eagerly waiting to hear the result of her cousin's visit + to Solomon Cobb, Thankful told but a portion of the truth. She did say, + however, that the additional loan appeared to be out of the question and + she guessed they would have to get on without the needed alterations for + another year. Emily thought they should not. + </p> + <p> + “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 lend + you the money; but, if he won't, then I'm sure someone else will, if you + ask. Don't you know anyone here in East Wellmouth whom you might ask for a + loan—on your prospects?” + </p> + <p> + “No. No, I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, you do. There is Captain Bangs, for instance. He is well to do, + and I'm sure he is a good friend. Why don't you ask him?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful's answer was prompt and sharp. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I shan't,” she declared. + </p> + <p> + “Then I will. I'll be glad to.” + </p> + <p> + “Emily Howes, if you say one word to Cap'n Obed about borrowin' money from + him I'll—I'll never speak to you afterwards. Go to Captain Obed. The + idea!” + </p> + <p> + “But why not, Auntie? He IS a friend, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Of course he is; that's the very reason. He is a friend and he'd probably + lend it because he is, whether he knew he'd ever get it back or not. No, + when I borrow money it'll be of somebody that lends it as a business deal, + not from friendship.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Auntie, you went to Mr. Cobb because he was your relative. You said + that was the very reason why you went to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Um, yes. Well, I may have GONE to him for that reason, but there ain't + any relationship in that mortgage of his; don't you get the notion that + there is.” + </p> + <p> + Emily's next question, naturally, concerned the renewal of that mortgage. + Mrs. Barnes said shortly that she guessed the renewal would be all right. + </p> + <p> + “He's comin' over to settle it with me pretty soon,” she added. “Now don'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 days together + frettin' about money. That mortgage is all right. Maybe the extra loan + will be, too. Maybe—why, maybe Mr. Kendrick would lend it, if I + asked him.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Kendrick? Why, Auntie, Mr. Kendrick has no money, or only a very + little. He is doing well—very well, considering how short a time he + has practised his profession here, but I'm sure he has no money to lend. + Why, he tells me—” + </p> + <p> + The expression of Mrs. Barnes' face must have conveyed a meaning; at any + rate Emily's sentence broke off in the middle. She colored and seemed + embarrassed. + </p> + <p> + Thankful smiled. “Yes,” she observed, drily, “I notice he tells you a lot + of things—a whole lot more than he does anybody else. Generally + speakin', he is about the closest-mouthed young man about his personal + affairs 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. Holliday + Kendrick. He's got money enough, I guess. Maybe he might make a loan on + decent security. He's a possibility. I'll think him over.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. E. Holliday and his doings were still East Wellmouth's favorite + conversational topics. The great man was preparing to close his summer + house 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, but he, + too, was to go very soon. There were rumors that he remained because of + other schemes concerning his new estate. Just what those schemes were no + one seemed to know. If John Kendrick knew he told no one, not even Emily + Howes. + </p> + <p> + But E. Holliday himself disclosed his plan and it was to Thankful Barnes + that he did so. He called at the High Cliff House one afternoon and asked + to see its proprietor. Thankful was a trifle flustered. It was the first + call which her wealthy neighbor had made upon her, and she could not + understand why he came at this late date. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Emily was much amused. “I never knew you to be frightened of money before, + Auntie,” she said. “I thought you were considering borrowing some of this + very—ahem—personage.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I was, though I cal'late I should have took it out in + consideration; I never would have gone to him and asked. But now the—what + do you call it?—personage—come to me for somethin', the land + knows what.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps HE wants to borrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Perhaps he does. Well, then, he's fishin' in the wrong puddle. + Emily Howes, stop laughin' and makin' jokes and come into that livin'-room + same as I ask you to.” + </p> + <p> + But this Emily firmly declined to do. “He's not my caller, Auntie,” she + said. “He didn't even ask if I were in.” + </p> + <p> + So Thankful went into the living-room alone to meet the personage. And she + 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.” + </p> + <p> + The call was a long one. It ended in an odd way. Emily, sitting by the + dining-room window, heard the front door slam and, looking out, saw Mr. + Kendrick stalking down the path, a frown on his face and outraged dignity + in his bearing. A moment later Thankful burst into the dining-room. Her + cheeks were flushed and she looked excited and angry. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think that—that walkin' money-bag came here for?” she + demanded. “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 any difference + what I wanted. Well, it will make a difference, I tell you that!” + </p> + <p> + When she had calmed sufficiently she told of the interview with her + neighbor. E. Holliday had lost no time in stating his position. The High + Cliff House, it appeared, was a source of annoyance to him and his. A + boarding-house, no matter how genteel or well-conducted a boarding-house + it may be, could not longer be tolerated in that situation. The boarders + irritated him by trespassing upon his premises, by knocking their tennis + balls into his garden beds, by bathing and skylarking on the beach in + plain sight from his verandas. And the house and barn interfered with his + view. He wished to be perfectly reasonable in the matter; Mrs. Barnes, of + course, understood that. He was willing to pay for the privilege of having + his own way. But, boiled down and shorn of politeness and subterfuge, his + proposition was that Thankful should sell her property to him, after which + he would either tear down the buildings on that property, or move them to + a less objectionable site. + </p> + <p> + “But, Auntie,” cried Emily, “of course you told him you didn't want to + sell.” + </p> + <p> + “Sartin I did. I told him all I had was invested here, that my first + season had been a good one considerin' 'twas the first, and that my + prospects were all I had a right to hope for. I told him I was sorry if my + boarders had plagued him and I'd try to see they didn't do so any more. + But I couldn't think of sellin' out.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did he say to that?” + </p> + <p> + “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 would consider. 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 he kept sayin' yes. Our + talk got more and more sultry long towards the last of it. He told me that + he made it a p'int to get what he wanted and he was 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 to belong to him once. His father + left it to him. He sold it a long while ago, afore my Uncle Abner bought, + I guess. Now he's sorry he sold.” + </p> + <p> + “That was queer, what else did he say?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he said a whole lot about his desire to make East Wellmouth his + permanent residence, about the taxes he paid, and what he meant to do for + the town. I told him that was all right and fine and the town appreciated + it, but that I'd got to think of myself; this boardin'-house idea was a + life-long ambition of mine and I couldn't give it up.” + </p> + <p> + “And how did it end?” + </p> + <p> + “Just where it begun. His last words to me was that if I wouldn't listen + to reason then he'd have to try other ways. And he warned me that he + should try 'em. I said go ahead and try, or words not quite so sassy but + meanin' the same. And out he marched. Oh, Emily, WHAT do you suppose he'll + try? He can't MAKE me sell out, can he? Oh, dear! Oh, dear! here's more + trouble. And I thought there was enough already!” + </p> + <p> + Emily did her best to reassure her relative, telling the latter that of + course she could not be forced into parting with what was her own and that + Mr. Kendrick was talking merely for effect; but it was plain that Miss + Howes herself was troubled. + </p> + <p> + “I think you should consult a lawyer, Auntie,” she said. “I am sure I am + 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 is his + business. Why don't you ask John—Mr. John Kendrick, I mean? He will + advise you.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful nodded. “I will,” she said. + </p> + <p> + But John did not come home for dinner that night. He had business which + called him to Wellmouth Centre that afternoon and it was late in the + evening when he returned. Heman Daniels was late for dinner also, and when + he entered the dining-room there was an air of mystery and importance + about him which everyone noticed. Miss Timpson, who seldom permitted + reticence to interfere with curiosity, asked him what was the matter. + </p> + <p> + “I do declare, Mr. Daniels,” she said, “you look as if you had the cares + of the nation on your shoulders tonight. Has anything gone wrong with one + of those important cases of yours?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Daniels shook his head. “No,” he answered, gravely. “My cases are + progressing satisfactorily. My worries just now are not professional. I + heard some news this afternoon which—er—upset me somewhat, + that is all.” + </p> + <p> + “News? Upsettin' news? Land sakes, do tell us! What is it?” + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Daniels refused to tell. The news concerned other people, he said, + and he was not at liberty to tell. He trusted Miss Timpson would excuse + him under the circumstances. + </p> + <p> + Miss Timpson was therefore obliged to excuse him, though it was plain that + she did so under protest. She made several more or less direct attempts to + learn the secret and, failing, went out to attend prayer-meeting. Caleb + Hammond went out also, though the club, not prayer-meeting, was his + announced destination. Heman finished his dinner alone. When he had + finished he sent word by Imogene that when Miss Howes was at liberty he + should like to speak with her. + </p> + <p> + Emily, who was in the kitchen with Thankful and Captain Obed, the latter + having, as usual, dropped in on his way to the postoffice, seemed in no + hurry 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 and started + for the living-room. Captain Obed and Thankful smiled at each other. + </p> + <p> + “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' by the + weather signs.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I cal'late that's so,” she agreed. “Still, he's been just as fur gone + with others, if all they say's true. Mr. Daniels is a fascinator, so + everybody says.” + </p> + <p> + “Yup. Prides himself on it, always seemed to me. But there generally comes + a time when that kind of a lady-killer gets hit himself. Lots of females + have been willin' to marry Heman, but he's never given 'em the chance. + About so fur he'll go and then shy off.” + </p> + <p> + “How about that widow woman over to Bayport?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I did think he was goin' to cast anchor there, but he ain't, up to + now. That widow's wuth a lot of money—her husband owned any quantity + of cranberry bog property—and all hands cal'lated Heman had his eye + on it. Maybe he and the widow would have signed articles only for Miss + Howes heavin' in sight.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I suppose he's a good man; I never heard a word against him that + way. And he's a risin' lawyer—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—or riz.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But—but I somehow wouldn't want Emily to marry him.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed agreed heartily. “Neither would I,” he declared. Then, after + a moment, he added: “Hasn't it seemed to you that John Kendrick was kind + of—well, kind of headin' up towards—towards—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Ye-es, I have thought so. I joke Emily a little about him + sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “So do I, John. How do you think she”—with a jerk of the head toward + the living-room—“feels—er—that way?” + </p> + <p> + “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 think of + gettin' married, not for a long spell. He hasn't got any money.” + </p> + <p> + “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 in the right + places, too. Why, the last time I was in South Denboro Cap'n Elisha Warren + spoke to me about him, and if Cap'n 'Lisha gets interested in a young + feller it means a lot. 'Lisha's got a lot of influence.” + </p> + <p> + “You say you joke with John about Emily. How's he take the jokes?” + </p> + <p> + “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 me about—er—that + is—” + </p> + <p> + “About what?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—nothin'. Just nonsense, that's all. Well, I cal'late I'd better + be goin' if I want to fetch the postoffice afore it's shut up.” + </p> + <p> + But he was destined not to “fetch” the postoffice that night. He had risen + to go when the dining-room door opened and Emily appeared. Her face was + flushed, and she seemed excited and angry. + </p> + <p> + “Auntie,” she said, sharply, “Auntie, will you come into the living-room a + moment. I want you to hear what that—what Mr. Daniels says. Don't + stop to talk. Come! Captain Bangs, you may come, too. You are—are + his friend and you should hear it.” + </p> + <p> + Surprised and puzzled, Thankful and the captain followed her through the + dining-room to the living-room. There they found Heman Daniels, standing + by the center table, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mr. Daniels,” said Emily, “I want you to tell my cousin and Captain + Bangs just what you have told me. It's not true—I know it's not + true, and I want them to be able to contradict such a story. Tell them.” + </p> + <p> + Heman fidgeted with the paper-cutter on the table. + </p> + <p> + “I merely told Miss Howes,” he said, nervously, “what was told me. It was + told me by one of the parties most interested and so I accepted it as the + truth. I—I have no personal interest in the matter. As—as a + friend and—and a lawyer—I offered my services, that is all. I—” + </p> + <p> + He was interrupted by the opening of the front door. John Kendrick, + wearing his light overcoat, and hat in hand, entered the living-room. + </p> + <p> + “I'm awfully sorry to be so late, Mrs. Barnes,” he began. “I was detained + at the Centre. Hello, Captain! Good evening, Daniels! Good evening, Miss + Howes!” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed and Thankful said, “Good evening.” Neither Emily nor Heman + returned the greeting. John, for the first time, appeared to notice that + something was wrong. He looked from Mrs. Barnes to Captain Bangs, standing + together at one side of the table, and at Daniels and Emily at the other + side. Heman had moved closer to the young lady, and in his manner was a + hint of confidential understanding, almost of protection. + </p> + <p> + Kendrick looked from one pair to the other. When he next spoke it was to + Emily Howes. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what's the matter?” he asked, with a smile. “This looks like a + council of war.” + </p> + <p> + Emily did not smile. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Kendrick,” she said, “I am very glad you came. Now you can deny it + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + John gazed at her in puzzled surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Deny it?” he repeated. “Deny what?” + </p> + <p> + Before Miss Howes could answer Heman Daniels spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Kendrick,” he said, importantly, “Miss Howes has heard something + concerning you which she doesn't like to believe.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed? Did she hear it from you, may I ask?” + </p> + <p> + “She did.” + </p> + <p> + “And that is why she doesn't believe it? Daniels, I'm surprised. Even + lawyers should occasionally—” + </p> + <p> + Emily interrupted. “Oh, stop!” she cried. “Don't joke, please. This is not + a joking matter. If what I have been told IS true I should—But I + know it isn't—I KNOW it!” + </p> + <p> + John bowed. “Thank you,” he said. “What have you heard?” + </p> + <p> + “She has heard—” began Heman. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, Daniels. I asked Miss Howes.” + </p> + <p> + Emily began a reply, but she did not finish it. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + John turned to his fellow practitioner. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” he said. “Now, Daniels, what is it?” + </p> + <p> + Heman did not hesitate. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Howes has heard,” he said, deliberately, “that your client, Mr. + Holliday Kendrick, is determined to force Mrs. Barnes here into selling + him this house and land, to force her to sell whether she wishes it or + not. Is that true?” + </p> + <p> + John nodded, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid it is,” he said. “He seems quite determined. In fact, he said + he had expressed that determination to the lady herself. He did that, + didn't he, Mrs. Barnes?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful, who had been so far a perplexed and troubled listener, answered. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes,” she admitted. “He was here today and he give me to understand + that he wanted this property of mine and was goin' to have it. If I + wouldn't agree to sell it to him now then he'd drive me into sellin' later + on. That's about what he said.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed struck his fists together. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything more, Daniels?” inquired John. + </p> + <p> + “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 this + scheme of his. That is what we wish to know.” + </p> + <p> + “We? What we? Has Mrs. Barnes—or Miss Howes—have they engaged + you as their attorney, Daniels?” + </p> + <p> + Before Daniels could reply Emily asked a question. + </p> + <p> + “Did he—has he asked you to help him?” she demanded. “Has he?” + </p> + <p> + John smiled. “I doubt if it could be called asking,” he observed. “He gave + me orders to that effect shortly after he left here.” + </p> + <p> + Emily gasped. Thankful and Captain Obed said, “Oh!” in concert. Heman + Daniels smiled triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Miss Howes?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “One moment, Daniels,” broke in Kendrick, sharply. “You haven't answered + my question yet. Just where do you come in on this?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I—” began Daniels, but once more Emily interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “Are you—” she cried. “Tell me; are you going to help that man force + my cousin into giving up her home?” + </p> + <p> + Again John smiled. “Well, to be frank,” he said, “since it IS her home and + she doesn't wish to sell it I can't for the life of me see how she can be + forced into selling, with or without my valuable aid. Miss Howes, I—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop! You persist in treating this affair as a joke. It is NOT a joke—to + my cousin, or to me. Did you tell that man you would help him?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew it! I was certain of it! Of course you didn't!” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, Miss Howes,” put in Daniels. “We have not heard all yet. + Kendrick, do I understand that you told your cousin and—er—benefactor + that you would NOT help him in his infamous scheme?” + </p> + <p> + John's patience was nearing its limits. He smiled no more. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what you understand, Daniels,” he said, crisply. “Your + understanding in many matters is beyond me.” + </p> + <p> + “But did you say you would not help him?” persisted Emily. + </p> + <p> + “Why no, not exactly. He did not wait to hear what I had to say. He seemed + to take my assistance for granted.” + </p> + <p> + Daniels laughed scornfully. + </p> + <p> + “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 come + from the interview with his—er—attorney. He told me that he + intended to force you into giving up your property to him and he told me + also that his cousin here had the case in his hands and would work to + carry it through. There seemed to be no doubt in his mind that this + gentleman,” indicating John, “had accepted the responsibility. In fact he + said he had.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed snorted. “That's plaguy nonsense!” he declared. “I know + better. John ain't that kind of feller. You wouldn't help anybody to turn + a woman out of her house and home, would you, John? Course you wouldn't. + The swab! Just 'cause he's got money he cal'lates he can run everything. + Well, he can't.” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness knows I hope he can't!” moaned Thankful. + </p> + <p> + “And in the meantime we are waiting to hear what his lawyer has to say,” + observed Heman. + </p> + <p> + John stepped forward. “Daniels,” he said, “it strikes me that your 'we's' + are a bit frequent. Why are you interfering in this affair?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Daniels drew himself up. “I am not interfering,” he replied. “My + interest is purely that of a friend. AS a friend I told Miss Howes what + your cousin said to me. She seemed to doubt my word. In justice to myself + I propose to prove that I have spoken the truth, that is all. So far I + think I may say that I have proved it. Now I demand to know what you + intend doing. Are you for Mrs. Barnes or against her?” + </p> + <p> + “So you demand that, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “I do. Will you answer?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah ha! I thought not.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll answer no demands from you. Why should I? If Mrs. Barnes or Miss + Howes asks me I will answer, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Kendrick—” began Thankful. Emily interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “Wait, Auntie,” she said. “He must answer me first. Mr. Kendrick, when + that man came to you with his 'orders,' as you call them, you must have + had some opportunity to speak. Why didn't you refuse at once?” + </p> + <p> + For the first time John hesitated. “Well,” he said, slowly, “for one + reason I was taken completely by surprise.” + </p> + <p> + “So was Aunt Thankful, when he came to her. But she refused.” + </p> + <p> + “And, for another, there were certain circumstances which made it hard to + refuse point-blank. In a way, I suppose Mr. Kendrick was justified in + assuming that I would work for his interests. I accepted his retaining + fee. You remember that I hesitated before doing so, but—but I did + accept, and I have acted as his attorney since. I—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop! I did not ask for excuses. I ask you, as Mr. Daniels asked, are you + for my cousin or against her?” + </p> + <p> + “And I ask you what is Mr. Daniels' warrant for asking me anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Answer my question! Will you fight for my cousin's rights, or have you + sold yourself to—to this benefactor of yours?” + </p> + <p> + John flushed at the repetition of the word. + </p> + <p> + “I have tried to give value received for whatever benefactions have come + my way,” he said, coldly. “This matter may be different; in a way it is. + But not as Mr. Holliday Kendrick sees it. When a lawyer accepts a + retaining fee—not for one case but for all cases which his client + may give him—he is, by the ethics of his profession, honor bound to—” + </p> + <p> + “Honor!” scornfully. “Suppose we omit the 'honor'.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not easy to do. I AM my cousin's attorney. But, as Mrs. Barnes' + friend and yours, I—” + </p> + <p> + Emily stamped her foot. “Friend!” she cried. “I don't care for such + friends. I have heard enough. I don't wish to hear any more. You were + right, Mr. Daniels. I apologize for doubting your word. Aunt Thankful, you + must settle this yourself. I—I am through. I—I am going. + Please don't stop me.” + </p> + <p> + She was on her way to the door of the dining-room. Heman Daniels called + her name. + </p> + <p> + “One minute, Miss Howes,” he said. “I trust you will not forget you have + one friend who will be only too glad to work for Mrs. Barnes' interests + and yours. I am at your service.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, thank you, Mr. Daniels. I—I have no doubt we shall need + your services. But please don't—” + </p> + <p> + John Kendrick was at her side. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Howes—Emily—” he pleaded. “Don't misunderstand me.” + </p> + <p> + She burst out at him like, as Captain Obed said afterward, “an August + thunder tempest.” + </p> + <p> + “Misunderstand!” she repeated. “I don't misunderstand. I understand quite + well. Don't speak to me again.” + </p> + <p> + The door closed behind her. Thankful, after an instant's hesitation, + hurried out after her. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, gentlemen,” said Daniels, and followed Mrs. Barnes. + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed turned to his friend. + </p> + <p> + “For the Lord sakes, John!” he shouted. “What in the everlastin' do you + mean? What did you let her go that way for? Why didn't you tell her you + wouldn't do it?” + </p> + <p> + But Kendrick paid not the slightest attention. He was gazing at the door + through which Emily and Thankful had disappeared. His face was white. + </p> + <p> + “John,” repeated the captain. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” ordered John. He strode to the door and opened it. + </p> + <p> + “Emily!” he cried. “Emily!” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. John waited a moment and then turned and walked to + the window, where he raised the shade and stood looking out. + </p> + <p> + “John,” said the captain again. + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Don't say anything to me now.” + </p> + <p> + So Captain Obed did not speak. A few minutes later the dining-room door + opened and Mr. Daniels entered. His expression was one of complete, not to + say malicious, satisfaction. John turned at the opening of the door. + </p> + <p> + “Emily,” he began. Then, seeing Daniels, he remained silent, looking at + him. + </p> + <p> + “Kendrick,” said Heman, with dignity, “in the matter which we have just + been discussing you will hereafter deal with me. That is Mrs. Barnes' wish + and also Miss Howes'.” + </p> + <p> + John did not reply. Once more he walked to the door and opened it. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Howes!” he called. “Emily! If you will let me explain—Emily!” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go fetch her,” declared Captain Obed. John pushed him back. + </p> + <p> + “Don't interfere, Captain,” he said, sharply. “Emily!” + </p> + <p> + No answer. Daniels made the next remark. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you don't get the situation, Kendrick,” he said. “Neither Miss + Howes nor Mrs. Barnes cares to see you or speak with you. After this you + are to deal with me. They have asked me, as a FRIEND,” emphasizing the + word, “to act as their representative in this and all matters.” + </p> + <p> + John turned and looked at the speaker. + </p> + <p> + “In all matters?” he asked, slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes sir, in all.” + </p> + <p> + “And they refuse to see me?” + </p> + <p> + “It would—er—seem so. . . . Is there anything further, + Kendrick? If not then this affair between your—er—client and + mine would appear to be a matter of skill for you and me to contest. We'll + see who wins.” + </p> + <p> + John still looked at him. + </p> + <p> + “So that's it then,” he said, after a moment. “You and I are to determine + which is the better lawyer?” + </p> + <p> + “So it would seem. Though, considering my record and experience, I don't + know that—” + </p> + <p> + “That such a test is necessary? I don't know that it is, either. But we'll + have it.” + </p> + <p> + He walked from the room and they heard him ascending the stairs. Captain + Obed swore aloud. Heman Daniels laughed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + The next morning the captain was an early caller. Breakfast at the High + Cliff House was scarcely over when he knocked at the kitchen door. Imogene + opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Kendrick ain't here,” she said, in answer to the caller's question. + “He's gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Gone? So early? Where's he gone; down to his office?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. He's gone, that's all I do know. He didn't stop for any + breakfast either.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! That's funny. Where's Mrs. Thankful?” + </p> + <p> + “She's up in Miss Emily's room. Miss Emily didn't come down to breakfast + neither. I'll tell Mrs. Barnes you're here.” + </p> + <p> + When Thankful came she looked grave enough. + </p> + <p> + “I'm awful glad to see you, Cap'n,” she said. “I've been wantin' to talk + to 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' away till + I tell you to. You stay in the kitchen here.” + </p> + <p> + When she and Captain Obed were in the dining-room alone, and with both + doors closed, Thankful told of the morning's happenings. + </p> + <p> + “They're bad enough, too,” she declared. “Almost as bad as that silly + business last night—or worse, if such a thing's possible. To begin + with, Mr. John Kendrick's gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Imogene said he'd gone. But what made him go so early?” + </p> + <p> + “You don't understand, Cap'n. I mean he's gone—gone for good. He + isn't goin' to board or room here any more.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed whistled. “Whew!” he exclaimed. “You don't mean it?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I didn't, but I do. I didn't see him this mornin', he went too + early for that, but he took his suitcase and his trunk is all packed and + locked. He left a note for me with a check for his room rent and board in + it. The note said that under the circumstances he presumed I would agree + 'twas best for him to go somewheres else at once. He thanked me for my + kindness, and said some real nice things—but he's gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Tut! tut! Dear, dear! Where's he gone to? Did he say?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I've told you all he said. I suppose likely I ought to have expected + it, and perhaps, if he is goin' to work for that cousin of his and against + me, it's best that he shouldn't stay here; but I'll miss him awful—a + good deal more'n I miss the money he's paid me, and the land knows I need + that. I can't understand why he acted the way he did last night. It don't + seem like him at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! I should say it didn't. And it ain't like him either. There's a + nigger in the woodpile somewheres; I wish I could smoke the critter out. + What's Emily say about his goin'?” + </p> + <p> + “She don't say anything. She won't talk about him at all, and she won't + let me mention his name. The poor girl looks as if she'd had a hard night + of it, but she looks, too, as if her mind was made up so fur's he was + concerned.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed pulled at his beard. + </p> + <p> + “She didn't give him much of a chance last evenin', seemed to me,” he + said. “If she'd only come back when he called after her that time, I + cal'late he was goin' to say somethin'; but she didn't come. Wouldn't + answer him at all.” + </p> + <p> + “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 back stairs to + her bedroom and I chased after her. She was cryin', or next door to it, + and I wanted to comfort her. But she wouldn't let me.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. Probably she didn't hear him call at all. He did, though; and he + called her by her first name. Matters between 'em must have gone further'n + we thought they had.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + Kendrick last night. Well, I'm afraid it's all off now. Emily's awful + proud and she's got a will of her own.” + </p> + <p> + “Um, so I should judge. And John's will ain't all mush and molasses + either. That's the worst of young folks. I wonder how many good matches + have been broke off just by two young idiots lettin' their pride interfere + with their common-sense. I wish you and me had a dime for every one that + had; you wouldn't have to keep boarders, and I wouldn't have to run + sailin' parties with codfish passengers.” + </p> + <p> + “That's so. But, Cap'n Bangs, DO you think Mr. Kendrick is goin' to try + and force me into sellin' out just 'cause his boss says so? It don't seem + as if he could. Why, he—he's seemed so grateful for what I've done + for him. He said once I couldn't be kinder if I was his own mother. It + don't seem as if he could treat me so, just for the money there was in it. + But, Oh dear!” as the thought of Mr. Solomon Cobb crossed her mind, “seems + as if some folks would do anything for money.” + </p> + <p> + “John wouldn't. I've known of his turnin' down more'n one case there was + money in account of its bein' more fishy than honest. No, if he does work + for that—that half Holliday cousin of his on this job, it'll be + because 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 in this + kindlin' pile. I'm goin' right down to see John this minute.” + </p> + <p> + 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 old + occupation, that of looking out of the window. The young man's face was + pale and drawn, but his manner was perfectly calm. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Captain,” he observed, as his caller entered. “I trust you've + taken the necessary precautions, fumigated and all that sort of thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Fumigated?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes. Unless I'm greatly mistaken, this office is destined to become + the den of the moral leper. As soon as my respected fellow-townsmen, the + majority of them, learn that I am to battle with Heman the Great, and in + such a cause, I shall be shunned and, so to speak, spat upon. You're + taking big chances by coming here.” + </p> + <p> + The captain grunted. “Umph!” he sniffed. “They don't know it yet; neither + do I.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah yes, but they will shortly. Daniels will take care that they do.” + </p> + <p> + “John, for thunder sakes—” + </p> + <p> + “Better escape contagion while you can, Captain. Unclean! Unclean!” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, belay, John! I don't feel like jokin'. What you've got to tell me now + is that it ain't so. You ain't goin' to—to try to—to—” + </p> + <p> + His friend interrupted. “Captain Bangs,” he said, sharply, “this is a + practical world we live in. You and I have had that preached to us; at + least I have and you were present during the sermon. I don't know how you + feel, of course; but henceforth I propose to be the most practical man you + ever saw.” + </p> + <p> + “Consarn your practicality! Are you goin' to help that—that + gold-dust twin—that cussed relation of yours, grab Thankful Barnes' + house and land from her?” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Bangs; when the—gold-dust twin isn't bad—when the + twin offered me the position of his attorney and the blanket retainer + along with it, who was it that hesitated concerning my acceptance? You? I + don't remember that you did. Neither did—others. But I did accept + because—well, because. Now the complications are here, and what + then?” + </p> + <p> + “John—John Kendrick, if you dast to set there and tell me you're + cal'latin' to—you can't do it! You can't be goin' to try such a—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I can. I may not succeed, but I can try.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed seldom lost his temper, but he lost it now. + </p> + <p> + “By the everlastin'!” he roared. “And this is the young feller that I've + been holdin' up and backin' up as all that's fair and above board! John + Kendrick, do you realize—” + </p> + <p> + “Easy, Captain, easy. Perhaps I realize what I'm doing better than you + do.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't neither. Emily Howes—” + </p> + <p> + John's interruption was sharper now. + </p> + <p> + “That'll do, Bangs,” he said. “Suppose we omit names.” + </p> + <p> + “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'.” + </p> + <p> + Kendrick smiled. “I should say there was no driving necessary,” he + observed. “Daniels seems to be already the chosen guardian and adviser. I + do realize what I'm doing, Captain, and,” deliberately, “I shall do it.” + </p> + <p> + “John, Emily—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! I like you, Captain Obed. I don't wish to quarrel with you. Take my + advice and omit that young lady's name.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed made one last appeal. + </p> + <p> + “John,” he pleaded, desperately, “don't! I know you're sort of—sort + of tied up to Holliday Kendrick; I know you feel that you are. But this + ain't a question of professional honor and that kind of stuff. It's right + and wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it? I think not. I was quite willing to discuss the rights and wrongs, + 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 of legal + skill—of law—between Daniels and myself. Very well; I am a + lawyer. Good morning, Captain Bangs.” + </p> + <p> + 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 Heman + Daniels must have spoken without authority when he declared himself the + chosen representative of Mrs. Barnes and Emily in all matters between the + pair and John. Heman could not have been given such authority because, + according to Thankful's story, she and Miss Howes had immediately gone + upstairs after leaving the living-room. Daniels could have spoken with + them again that evening. But when Captain Obed remembered this it was too + late. Thankful had asked Mr. Daniels to take her case, provided the + attempt at ousting her from her property ever reached legal proceedings. + And Emily Howes left East Wellmouth two days later. + </p> + <p> + She had not intended to leave for South Middleboro so soon; she had + planned to remain another week before going back to her school duties. But + there came a letter from the committee asking her to return as soon as + possible and she suddenly announced her determination to go at once. + </p> + <p> + 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 her + cousin's mind, that the reason for the sudden departure was the scene with + John Kendrick. Emily refused to discuss the latter's conduct or to permit + the mention of his name. She seemed reluctant even to speak of the + Holliday Kendrick matter, although all of East Wellmouth was now talking + of little else. When Mrs. Barnes, driven to desperation, begged her to say + what should be done, she shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could tell you, Auntie,” she said, “but I can't. Perhaps you + don't need to do anything yet. Mr. Daniels says the idea that that man can + force you into selling is ridiculous.” + </p> + <p> + “I know he does. But I'm a woman, Emily, and what I don't know about law + would fill a bigger library than there is in this town by a consider'ble + sight. It's always the woman, particularly a widow woman, that gets the + worst of it in this kind of thing. I'd feel better if I knew somebody was + lookin' out for me. Oh dear, if only Mr. John Kendrick hadn't—” + </p> + <p> + “Auntie, please.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know. But it don't seem as if he could act so to me. It don't seem—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! It is quite evident he can. Don't say any more.” + </p> + <p> + “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 he is + helpin', I guess. Hannah Parker told me—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. I'll tell him you and I have agreed—” + </p> + <p> + “No. Tell him nothing of the sort. Don't bring my name into the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Emily, you don't think I ought to sell—” + </p> + <p> + “No! No! Of course I don't think so. If I were you I should fight to the + last ditch. I would never give in—never! Oh, Auntie, I feel wicked + and mean to leave you now, with all this new trouble; but I must—I + must. I can't stay here—I—” + </p> + <p> + “There, there, Emily, dear! I understand, I guess. I know how hard it is + for you. And I thought so much of him, too. I thought he was such a fine + young—” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Thankful, are you daring to hint that I—I—care in the + least for that—him? How dare you insinuate such a thing to me? I—I + despise him!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” hastily. “Course you do, course you do. Well, we won't worry + about that, any of it. Mr. Daniels says there's nothin' to worry about + anyhow, and I'll tell him he can do what he thinks ought to be done when + it's necessary. Now let's finish up that packin' of yours, dearie.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful did not trust herself to accompany her cousin to Wellmouth + Centre. She was finding it hard enough to face the coming separation with + outward cheerfulness, and the long ride to the railway station she found + to be too great a strain. So she made the lameness of George Washington's + off fore leg an excuse for keeping that personage in the stable, and it + was in Winnie S.'s depot-wagon that Emily journeyed to the Centre. + </p> + <p> + They said good-by at the front gate. Emily, too, was trying to appear + cheerful, and the parting was hurried. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, Auntie,” she said. “Take care of yourself. Write often and I + will 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 SO + lonely, I'm pretty sure. And don't worry, will you? The mortgage is all + right and as for the other thing—well, that will be all right, too. + You won't worry, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; I'll be too busy to worry. And you'll come down for the Christmas + vacation? You will, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll try . . . I mean I will if I can arrange it. Good-by, dear.” + </p> + <p> + The depot-wagon rattled out of the yard. Winnie S. pulled up at the gate + to shout a bit of news. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Mrs. Barnes,” he yelled, “we got one of your boarders over to our + place now. John Kendrick's come there to live. Lots of folks are down on + 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 his board reg'lar. + Git dap, Old Hundred!” + </p> + <p> + A last wave of Thankful's hand, the answering wave of a handkerchief from + the rear seat of the depot-wagon, and the parting was over. Thankful went + into the house. Lonely! She had never been more lonely in her life, except + when the news of her husband's death was brought to her. The pang of + loneliness which followed her brother Jedediah's departure for the + Klondike was as nothing to this. She had promised not to worry, and she + must keep that promise, but there was certainly plenty to cause worry. The + mortgage which Emily had so comfortably declared “all right” was far from + that. Solomon Cobb had not been near her since their interview. He had not + yet said that he would renew the mortgage when it fell due. Mrs. Barnes + began to fear that he did not intend to renew it. + </p> + <p> + Heman Daniels, when he came in for supper, seemed disturbed to find that + Miss Howes had gone. Somehow or other he had gained the impression that + she was to leave the next morning. + </p> + <p> + “Did she—did Miss Howes leave no message for me?” he inquired, with + a carelessness which, to Thankful, seemed more assumed than real. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered the latter, “no, unless you call it a message about takin' + the responsibility of Holliday Kendrick and his schemes off my hands. That + is,” remembering Emily's desire not to have her name mentioned in the + matter, “she didn't leave that. But I guess you can take charge of that + mess, if you want to.” + </p> + <p> + 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 taken pains + to let the town-folks know that your interests are mine and I think our—er—late—er—friend + is learning what our best citizens think of his attitude.” + </p> + <p> + There was truth in this statement. John Kendrick had foreseen the effect + upon his popularity which his espousal of his wealthy relative's cause + might have and his prophecy concerning “moral leprosy” was in process of + fulfillment. Opinion in the village was divided, of course. There were + some who, like Darius Holt, announced that they did not blame the young + yellow. E. Holliday had money and influence and, as a business man, his + attorney would be a fool not to stick by the cash-box. But there were + others, and these leading citizens and hitherto good friends, who openly + expressed disgust both with the rich man and his lawyer. Several of these + citizens called upon Thankful to tell her of their sympathy and of their + wish to help her in any way. + </p> + <p> + “Not that you're liable to need help,” said one caller. “This property's + yours and even John D. himself couldn't get it from you unless you were + willin'. But it's a dirty trick just the same and young Kendrick, that all + hands thought was so straight and honest, takin' part in it is the + dirtiest thing in it. Well, he's hurt himself more'n he has anybody else.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed Bangs was a gloomy man that fall. He had always liked John + and the liking had grown to an ardent admiration and affection. He made + several attempts to speak with the young man on the subject, but the + latter would not discuss it. He was always glad to see the captain and + quite willing to talk of anything but Mrs. Barnes' property and of Emily + Howes. These topics were taboo and Captain Obed soon ceased to mention + them. 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, the resentment + he felt. John noticed this and there was a growing coldness between the + two. + </p> + <p> + “But,” declared the captain, stoutly, when he and Thankful were together, + “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 day he'll be dug out + and then there's a heap of tattle-tales and character naggers in this town + that'll find they've took the wrong channel. They'll be good and seasick, + that's what they'll be.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. E. Holliday Kendrick, if he knew that his own popularity had suffered + a shock, did not appear to care. He went on with his plans for 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 had left the purchase + of the “boarding-house nuisance” in the hands of his attorney. “I shall + have that property,” he announced, emphatically. “I may not get it for + some time, but I shall get it. I make it a point to get what I go after.” + </p> + <p> + Emily, in her letters, those written soon after her arrival in South + Middleboro, said nothing concerning her plan, the “secret” which was to + cheer Mrs. Barnes' loneliness. Thankful could not help wondering what the + secret might be, but in her own letters she asked no questions. And, one + day in mid-October, that secret was divulged. + </p> + <p> + Thankful, busy in the kitchen with Imogene, preparing dinner, heard the + sound of wheels and horse's hoofs in the yard. Going to the door, she was + surprised to see Captain Obed Bangs climbing from a buggy. The buggy was + her own and the horse to which it was attached was her own George + Washington. Upon the seat of the buggy was a small boy. Thankful merely + glanced at the boy; her interest just then centered upon the fact that the + captain was, or apparently had been, using her horse and buggy without her + knowledge or consent. She certainly had no objection to his so using it, + but it was most unlike him to do so. + </p> + <p> + “Good mornin', ma'am,” he hailed, cheerfully. His eyes were twinkling and + he appeared to be in high good humor. + </p> + <p> + “Why, good mornin', Cap'n,” said Thankful. “I—you—you're goin' + somewhere, I should judge.” + </p> + <p> + The captain shook his head. “No,” he replied, “I've been. Had an errand up + to the Centre. I knew somethin' was comin' on the mornin' train so I drove + up to fetch it. Thought you wouldn't mind my usin' your horse and buggy. + Imogene knew I was usin' it.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful was surprised. “She did?” she repeated. “That's funny. She didn't + say a word to me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I told her not to. You see, the—the somethin' I was expectin' + was for you, so I thought we'd make it a little surprise. Emily—Miss + Howes, she sent it.” + </p> + <p> + “Emily—sent somethin' to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yup.” + </p> + <p> + “For the land sakes! Well,” after a moment, “did it come? Where is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, it came. It's right there in the buggy. Don't you see it?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful looked at the buggy. The only thing in it, so far as she could + see, was the little boy on the seat. The little boy grinned. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Aunt Thankful,” he said. “I've come to stay with you, I have.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful started, stared, and then made a rush for the buggy. + </p> + <p> + “Georgie Hobbs!” she cried. “You blessed little scamp! Come here to me + this minute. Well, well, well!” + </p> + <p> + Georgie came and was received with a bear hug and a shower of kisses. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well!” repeated Thankful. “And to think I didn't know you! I'm + ashamed of myself. And you're the surprise, I suppose. You ARE one, sure + and sartin. How did you get here?” + </p> + <p> + “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 and + then get off. And I did, too; didn't I, Mr.—I mean Captain Bangs.” + </p> + <p> + “You bet you did!” agreed the delighted captain. “That's some relation + you've got there, Mrs. Barnes. He's little but Oh my! He and I have had a + good talk on the way down. We got along fust-rate; hey, commodore? The + commodore's agreed to ship second-mate along with me next v'yage I make, + if I ever make one.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful held her “relation”—he was Emily's half-brother and her own + favorite next to Emily herself in that family—at arm's length. “You + blessed little—little mite!” she exclaimed. “So you come 'way down + here all alone just to see your old auntie. Did you ever in your life! And + I suppose you're the 'secret' Emily said she had, the one that was to keep + me from bein' lonesome.” + </p> + <p> + 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 the hens + and the—and the orphan, and everything.” + </p> + <p> + “So you shall,” declared Thankful. “I'm glad enough to see you to turn the + house inside out if you wanted to look at it. And you knew all about this, + I suppose?” turning to Captain Obed. + </p> + <p> + The captain laughed aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Sartin I did,” he said. “Miss Howes and I have been writin' each other + like 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?” + </p> + <p> + Forgiveness was granted. Thankful would have forgiven almost anything just + then. The “commodore” announced that he was hungry and he was hurried into + the house. The cares of travel had not taken away his appetite. He was + introduced to Imogene, at whom he stared fixedly for a minute or more and + then asked if she was the “orphan.” When told that she was he asked if her + mamma and papa were truly dead. Imogene said she guessed they were. Then + Georgie asked why, and, after then, what made them that way, adding the + information that he had a kitty that went dead one time and wasn't any + good any more. + </p> + <p> + The coming of the “commodore” brought a new touch of life to the High + Cliff House, which had settled down for its winter nap. Thankful, of + course, read Emily's letter at the first opportunity. Emily wrote that she + felt sure Georgie would be company for her cousin and that she had + conceived the idea of the boy's visit before leaving East Wellmouth, but + had said nothing because she was not sure mother would consent. But that + consent had been granted and Georgie might stay until Christmas, perhaps + even after that if he was not too great a care. + </p> + <p> + He was something of a care, there was no doubt of that. Imogene, whom he + liked and who liked him, declared that “that young one had more jump in + him than a sand flea.” The very afternoon of his arrival he frightened the + hens into shrieking hysterics, poked the fat and somnolent Patrick Henry, + the pig, with a sharp stick to see if he was alive and not “gone dead” + like the kitten, and barked his shins and nose by falling out of the + wheelbarrow in the barn. Kenelm, who still retained his position at the + High Cliff House and was meek and lowly under the double domination of his + fiancee and his sister, was inclined to grumble. “A feller can't set down + to rest a minute,” declared Kenelm, “without that young one's jumpin' out + at him from behind somethin' or 'nother and hollerin', 'Boo!' Seems to + like to scare me into a fit. Picks on me wuss than Hannah, he does.” + </p> + <p> + But even Kenelm confessed to a liking for the “pesky little nuisance.” + Captain Obed idolized him and took him on excursions along the beach or to + his own fish-houses, where Georgie sat on a heap of nets and came home + smelling strongly of cod, but filled to the brim with sea yarns. And + Thankful found in the boy the one comfort and solace for her increasing + troubles and cares. Altogether the commodore was in a fair way to become a + thoroughly spoiled officer. + </p> + <p> + With November came the rains again, and, compared with them, those of + early September seemed but showers. Day after day and night after night + the wind blew and the water splashed against the windows and poured from + the overflowing gutters. Patrick Henry, the pig, found his quarters in the + new pen, in the hollow behind the barn, the center of the flood zone, and + being discovered one morning marooned on a swampy islet in the middle of a + muddy lake, was transferred to the old sty, that built by the late Mr. + Laban Eldredge, beneath the woodshed and adjoining the potato cellar. + Thankful's orderly, neat soul rebelled against having a pig under the + house, but, as she expressed it, “'twas either that or havin' the critter + two foot under water.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed, like every citizen of East Wellmouth, was disgusted with the + weather. “I was cal'latin' to put in my spare time down to the shanty + buildin' a new dory,” he said, “but I guess now I'll build an ark instead. + If this downpour keeps on I'll need one bad as Noah ever did.” + </p> + <p> + Heman Daniels, Miss Timpson and Caleb Hammond were now the only boarders + and roomers Mrs. Barnes had left to provide for. There was little or no + profit in providing for them, for the rates paid by the two last named + were not high, and their demands were at times almost unreasonable. Miss + Timpson had a new idea now, that of giving up the room she had occupied + since coming to the Barnes boarding-house and moving her belongings into + the suite at the rear of the second floor, that comprising the large room + and the little back bedroom adjoining, the latter the scene of Thankful's + spooky adventure on the first night of her arrival in East Wellmouth. + These rooms ordinarily rented for much more than Miss Timpson had paid for + her former apartment, but she had no thought of paying more for them. “Of + course I shouldn't expect to get 'em for the same if 'twas summer,” 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 have me, won't you, Mrs. + Barnes, you and me being such good friends by this time.” + </p> + <p> + And Thankful, although conscious of an injustice somewhere, did not like + to refuse her “good friend.” So she consented and Miss Timpson moved into + the back rooms. But she no sooner had her trunks carried there than she + was struck by another brilliant idea. Thankful, hearing unusual sounds + from above that Saturday morning, ascended the back stairs to find the + school mistress tugging at the bureau, which she was apparently trying to + drag from the small room into the larger. + </p> + <p> + “It came to me all of a sudden,” panted Miss Timpson, who was out of + breath but enthusiastic. “That little room's awful small and stuffy to + sleep in, and I do hate to sleep in a stuffy room. But when I was standing + there sniffing and looking it came to me.” + </p> + <p> + “What came to you?” demanded the puzzled Thankful. “What are you talkin' + about—the bureau?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! The idea! The bureau couldn't come to me by itself, could it? No, + the idea came to me. That little room isn't good for much as a bedroom, + but it will make the loveliest study. I can put my table and my books in + there and move the bed and things in here. Then I'll have a beautiful, + nice big bedroom and the cutest little study. And I've always wanted a + study. Now if you and Imogene help me with the bureau and bed it'll be all + fixed.” + </p> + <p> + So Imogene, assisted by Kenelm, who was drafted in Thankful's place, spent + a good part of the afternoon shifting furniture and arranging the bedroom + and the “study.” Miss Timpson superintended, and as she was seldom + satisfied until each separate item of the suite's equipment had been + changed about at least twice, in order to get the “effect,” all three were + nervous and tired when the shifting was over. Miss Timpson should have + been happy over the attainment of the study, but instead she appeared + gloomy and downcast. + </p> + <p> + “I declare,” she said, as she and Thankful sat together in the living-room + that evening, “I don't know's I've done right, after all. I don't know's I + wish I had stayed right where I was.” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy on us! Why?” demanded Thankful, a trifle impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “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 I + could have another cup of tea before I went to bed; it might settle my + nerves, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Considering that the lady had drunk three cups of tea at supper Mrs. + Barnes could not help feeling doubtful concerning the soothing effect of a + fourth. But she prepared it and brought it into the living-room. Miss + Timpson sipped the tea and groaned. + </p> + <p> + “Do you ever have presentiments, Mrs. Barnes?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Have what?” + </p> + <p> + “Presentiments? Warnings, you know? I've had several in my life and they + have always come to something. I feel as if I was going to have one now. + Heavens! Hear that wind and rain! Don't they sound like somebody calling—calling?” + </p> + <p> + “No, they don't. They sound cold and wet, that's all. Dear me, I never saw + such a spell of weather. I thought this mornin' 'twas goin' to clear, but + now it's come on again, hard as ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” with dismal resignation, “we'll all go when our time comes, I + suppose. We're here today and gone tomorrow. I don't suppose there's any + use setting and worrying. Be prepared, that's the main thing. Have you + bought a cemetery lot, Mrs. Barnes? You ought to; everybody had. We can't + tell when we're liable to need a grave.” + </p> + <p> + “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 no + wonder; you've moved no less'n three times since mornin', and they say one + movin's as bad as a fire. Here! Give me that tea-cup. There's nothin' left + in it but grounds, and you don't want to drink THEM.” + </p> + <p> + 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 shutters made + her nervous and depressed, so, after putting the key under the mat of the + side door for Heman Daniels, who was out attending a meeting of the + Masonic Lodge, she, too, retired. + </p> + <p> + 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, when + all East Wellmouth lies abed—that she expected to find no one, not + even Imogene, astir. But, to her great surprise, Miss Timpson was seated + by the living-room stove. + </p> + <p> + “Land sakes!” exclaimed Thankful. “Are you up? What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Timpson, who had started violently when Mrs. Barnes entered, turned + toward the latter a face as white, so Thankful described it afterward, “as + unbleached muslin.” This was not a bad simile, for Miss Timpson's + complexion was, owing to her excessive tea-drinking, a decided yellow. + Just now it was a very pale yellow. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” she gasped. “Oh, it's you, Mrs. Barnes. It IS you, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Me? Of course it's me. Have I changed so much in the night that you don't + know me? What is it, Miss Timpson? Are you sick? Can I get you anything?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. I ain't sick—in body, anyway. And nobody can get me + anything this side of the grave. Mrs. Barnes, I'm going.” + </p> + <p> + “You're GOIN'? What? You don't mean you're dyin'?” + </p> + <p> + Considering her lodger's remarks of the previous evening, those relating + to “going when the time came,” it is no wonder Thankful was alarmed. But + Miss Timpson shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “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'm + going away. I can't live here any longer.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful collapsed upon a chair. + </p> + <p> + “Goin'!” she repeated. “You're goin' to leave here? Why—why you've + just fixed up to stay!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Timpson groaned. “I know,” she wailed; “I thought I had, but I—I've + changed my mind. I'm going to leave—now.” + </p> + <p> + By way of proof she pointed to her traveling-bag, which was beside her on + the floor. Mrs. Barnes had not noticed the bag before, but now she saw + that it was, apparently, packed. + </p> + <p> + “My trunks ain't ready yet,” went on the schoolmistress. “I tried to pack + 'em, but—but I couldn't. I couldn't bear to do it alone. Maybe you + or Imogene will help me by and by. Oh, my soul! What was that?” + </p> + <p> + “What? I didn't hear anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you? Well, perhaps I didn't, either. It's just my nerves, I guess! + Mrs. Barnes, could you help me pack those trunks pretty soon? I'm going + away. I must go. If I stay in this house any longer I shall DIE.” + </p> + <p> + She was trembling and wringing her hands. Thankful tried to comfort her + and did succeed in quieting her somewhat, but, in spite of her + questionings and pleadings Miss Timpson refused to reveal the cause of her + agitation or of her sudden determination to leave the High Cliff House. + </p> + <p> + “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'm going + to my cousin's down in the village first and after that I don't know where + I'll go. Please don't ask me any more.” + </p> + <p> + She ate a few mouthfuls of the breakfast which Thankful hastily prepared + for her and then she departed for her cousin's. Thankful begged her to + stay until Kenelm came, when he might harness the horse and drive her to + her destination, but she would not wait. She would not even remain to pack + her trunks. + </p> + <p> + “I'll come back and pack 'em,” she said. “Or perhaps you and Imogene will + pack 'em for me. Oh, Mrs. Barnes, you've been so kind. I hate to leave you + this way, I do, honest.” + </p> + <p> + “But WHY are you leavin'?” asked Thankful once more. For the first time + Miss Timpson seemed to hesitate. She looked about, as if to make sure that + the two were alone; then she leaned forward and whispered in her + companion's ear. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Barnes,” she whispered, “I—I didn't mean to tell you. I didn't + mean 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 tell + somebody. Mrs. Barnes, I shan't live much longer. I've had a warning.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful stared at her. + </p> + <p> + “Rebecca Timpson!” she exclaimed. “Have you gone crazy? What are you + talkin' about? A warnin'!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a warning. I was warned last night. You—you knew I was a twin, + didn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “A which?” + </p> + <p> + “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 used to—er—well, + she was different from me in one way—she couldn't help it, poor + thing—she used to snore something dreadful. I used to scold her for + it, poor soul. Many's the time I've reproached myself since, but—” + </p> + <p> + “For mercy sakes, what's your sister's snorin' got to do with—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Mrs. Barnes,” with intense solemnity. “As sure as you and I live + and breathe this minute, my sister Medora came to me last night.” + </p> + <p> + “CAME to you! Why—you mean you dreamed about her, don't you? There's + nothin' strange in that. When you took that fourth cup of tea I said to + myself—” + </p> + <p> + “HUSH! Oh, hush! DON'T talk so. I didn't dream. Mrs. Barnes, I woke up at + two o'clock this morning and—and I heard Medora snoring as plain as + I ever heard anything.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful was strongly tempted to laugh, but the expression on Miss + Timpson's face was so deadly serious that she refrained. + </p> + <p> + “Goodness!” she exclaimed. “Is that all? That's nothin'. A night like last + night, with the rain and the blinds and the wind—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! It wasn't the wind. Don't you suppose I know? I thought it was the + wind or my imagination at first. But I laid there and listened and I kept + 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 from the little + back room I'd made into a study.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful's smile faded. She was conscious of a curious prickling at the + roots of her black hair. The back bedroom! The room in which Laban + Eldredge died! The room in which she herself had heard— + </p> + <p> + “I went into that room,” continued Miss Timpson. “I don't know how I ever + 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 noticed + before; that room was exactly the size and shape of the one Medora and I + used to sleep in. Mrs. Barnes, it was Medora's spirit that had come to me. + Do you wonder I can't stay here any longer?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful fought with her feelings. She put a hand on the back of her neck + and rubbed vigorously. “Nonsense!” she declared, bravely. “You imagined + it. Nonsense! Whoever heard of a snorin' ghost?” + </p> + <p> + But Miss Timpson only shook her head. “Good-by, Thankful,” she said. “I + shan't tell anybody; as I said, I didn't mean to tell you. If—if you + hear that anything's happened to me—happened sudden, you know—you'll + understand. You can tell Imogene and Mr. Daniels and Mr. Hammond that I—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.” + </p> + <p> + She hurried away along the path. Thankful reentered the house and stood in + the middle of the kitchen floor, thinking. Then she walked steadily to the + foot of the back stairs, ascended them, and walked straight to the + apartments so recently occupied by the schoolmistress. Miss Timpson'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 and entered the + little back bedroom. + </p> + <p> + The clouds were breaking and the light of the November sun shone in. The + little room was almost cheerful. There were no sounds except those from + without, the neigh of George Washington from his stall, the cackle of the + hens, the hungry grunts of Patrick Henry, the pig, in his sty beside the + kitchen. + </p> + <p> + Thankful looked and listened. Then she made a careful examination of the + room, but found nothing mysterious or out of the ordinary. And yet there + was a mystery there. She had long since decided that her own experience in + that room had been imagination, but now that conviction was shaken. Miss + Timpson must have heard something; she HAD heard something which + frightened her into leaving the boarding-house she professed to like so + well. Ghost or no ghost, Miss Timpson had gone; and one more source of + income upon which Mrs. Barnes had depended went with her. Slowly, and with + the feeling that not only this world but the next was conspiring to bring + about the failure of her enterprise and the ruin of her plans and her + hopes, Thankful descended the stairs to the kitchen and set about + preparing breakfast. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Caleb Hammond rose that Sunday morning with a partially developed + attack of indigestion and a thoroughly developed “grouch.” The indigestion + was due to an injudicious partaking of light refreshment—sandwiches, + ice cream and sarsaparilla “tonic”—at the club the previous evening. + Simeon Baker had paid for the refreshment, ordering the supplies sent in + from Mr. Chris Badger's store. Simeon had received an unexpected high + price for cranberries shipped to New York, and was in consequence “flush” + and reckless. He appeared at the club at nine-thirty, after most of its + married members had departed for their homes and only a few of the younger + set and one or two bachelors, like Mr. Hammond, remained, and announced + that he was going to “blow the crowd.” The crowd was quite willing to be + blown and said so. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hammond ate three sandwiches and two plates of ice cream, also he + smoked two cigars. He did not really feel the need of the second cream or + the second cigar, but, as they were furnished without cost to him, he took + them as a matter of principle. Hence the indigestion. + </p> + <p> + The “grouch” was due partially to the unwonted dissipation and its + consequences and partly to the fact that his winter “flannels” had not + been returned by Mrs. Melinda Pease, to whom they had been consigned for + mending and overhauling. + </p> + <p> + It was the tenth of November and for a period of twenty-four years, ever + since his recovery from a severe attack of rheumatic fever, Caleb had made + it a point to lay aside his summer underwear on the morning of November + tenth and don a heavy suit. Weather, cold or warm, was not supposed to + have any bearing on this change. The ninth might be as frigid as a + Greenland twilight and the tenth as balmy as a Florida noon—no + matter; on the ninth Mr. Hammond wore light underwear and shivered; on the + tenth he wore his “flannels” and perspired. It was another of his + principles, and Caleb had a deserved reputation for adhering to principle + and being “sot” in his ways. + </p> + <p> + So, when, on this particular tenth of November, this Sabbath morning, he + rose, conscious of the sandwiches and “tonic,” and found no suit of + flannels ready for him to don, his grouch began to develop. He opened his + chamber door a crack and shouted through the crack. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Barnes,” he called. “Hi—i, Mrs. Barnes!” + </p> + <p> + Thankful, still busy in the kitchen, where she had been joined by Imogene, + sent the latter to find out what was the matter. Imogene returned, + grinning. + </p> + <p> + “He wants his flannels,” she announced. “Wants to know where them winter + flannels Mrs. Pease sent home yesterday are. Why, ain't they in his room, + he says.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful sniffed. Her experience with Miss Timpson, and the worry caused + by the latter's leaving, had had their effect upon her patience. + </p> + <p> + “Mercy sakes!” she exclaimed. “Is that all? I thought the house was afire. + I don't know where his flannels are. Why should I? Where'd Melindy put 'em + when she brought 'em here?” + </p> + <p> + 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 he + heard she was sick abed with a cold.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful nodded. “So she is,” she said. “Probably the poor thing ain't had + time to finish mendin' 'em. It's a good deal of a job, I guess. She told + me once that that Hammond man wore his inside clothes till they wa'n't + anything BUT mendin', just hung together with patches, as you might 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 they don't show. Imogene, + go tell him Melindy didn't fetch 'em.” + </p> + <p> + Imogene went and returned with her grin broader than ever. + </p> + <p> + “He says she did bring 'em,” she announced. “Says she always brings him + his 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Freeze! Why, it's the warmest day we've had for a fortni't. The sun's + come 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.” + </p> + <p> + She went into the front hall and called up the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Course she's got 'em ready! She always has 'em ready. She knows I want + 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe so, but she ain't always sick, 'tain't likely. They ain't here, + anyway. You won't need 'em today.” + </p> + <p> + “Need 'em? Course I need 'em. It's colder than Christmas.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it isn't. It's almost as warm as September. Put on two suits of your + others, if you're so cold. And come down to breakfast as soon as you can. + We've all had ours.” + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Hammond did come down to breakfast his manner was that of a + martyr. The breakfast itself, baked beans and fishballs, did not appeal to + him, and he ate little. He grumbled as he drank his coffee. + </p> + <p> + “Healthy note, this is!” he muttered. “Got to set around and freeze to + death just 'cause that lazy critter ain't finished her job. I pay her for + it, don't I?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful sniffed. “I suppose you do,” she said, adding under her breath, + “though how much you pay is another thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Is this all the breakfast you've got?” queried Caleb. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes; it's what we always have Sunday mornin's. Isn't it what you + expected?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, why don't you have one? I should think you would. You can afford + it.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hammond did not reply. He folded his napkin, seized his hat and coat + and went out. When he crossed the threshold he shivered, as a matter of + principle. + </p> + <p> + He stalked gloomily along the path by the edge of the bluff. Captain Obed + Bangs came up the path and they met. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Caleb!” hailed the captain. “Fine weather at last, eh? Almost like + August. Injun summer at last, I cal'late. What you got your coat collar + turned up for? Afraid of getting your neck sunburned?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hammond grunted and hurried on. Captain Obed had chosen a poor topic + if he desired a lengthy conversation. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pease lived at the farther end of the village and when Caleb reached + there he was met by the lady's niece, Emma Snow. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Melindy's real poorly,” said Emma. “She's been so for 'most three + days. I'm stayin' here with her till she gets better. No, she ain't had + time to do your mendin' yet. Anyhow it's so nice and warm you don't need + the things, that's a comfort.” + </p> + <p> + It may have been a comfort to her, but it was not to Caleb. He growled a + reply and turned on his heel. The churchgoers along the main road received + scanty acknowledgment of their greetings. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't you comin' to meetin'?” asked Abbie Larkin. + </p> + <p> + “Naw,” snarled Caleb, “I ain't.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? And it's such a lovely day, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Ugh!” + </p> + <p> + “Why ain't you comin' to meetin', Mr. Hammond?” + </p> + <p> + “'Cause I don't feel like it, that's why.” + </p> + <p> + “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 should say + you needed it, if ever anybody did.” + </p> + <p> + Caleb did not deign a reply. He stalked across the road and took the path + to the shore. + </p> + <p> + As he came opposite the Parker cottage he saw Hannah Parker at the window. + He nodded and his nod was returned. Hannah's experience was as gloomy as + his own. She did not look happy and somehow the idea that she was not + happy pleased him; Abbie Larkin had been altogether too happy; it grated + on him. He was miserable and he wanted company of his own kind. He + stopped, hesitated, and then turned in at the Parker gate. + </p> + <p> + Hannah opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “Good mornin', Caleb,” she said. “Come in, won't you? It looks sort of + chilly outdoor.” + </p> + <p> + This WAS a kindred spirit. Mr. Hammond entered the Parker sitting-room. + Hannah motioned toward a chair and he sat down. + </p> + <p> + “Mornin', Hannah,” said Caleb. “'Tis chilly. It'll be a mercy if we don't + catch our deaths, dressed the way some of us be. How's things with you?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Parker shook her head. “Oh, I don't know, Caleb,” she answered. “They + ain't all they might be, I'm afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter? Ain't you feelin' up to the mark?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes—yes; I'm feeling well enough in body. I ain't sick, if + that's what you mean. I'm kind of blue and—and lonesome, that's all. + I try to bear up under my burdens, but I get compressed in spirit + sometimes, I can't help it. Ah, hum a day!” + </p> + <p> + She sighed and Mr. Hammond sighed also. + </p> + <p> + “You ain't the only one,” he said. “I'm bluer'n a whetstone myself, this + mornin'.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the trouble?” + </p> + <p> + “Trouble? Trouble enough! Somethin' happened this mornin' that riled me + all up. It—” he paused, remembering that the cause of the “rilin'” + was somewhat personal, not to say delicate. “Well—well, never mind + what it was,” he added. “'Twas mighty aggravatin', that's all I've got to + say.” + </p> + <p> + Hannah sighed again. “Ah, hum!” she observed. “There's aggravations enough + in this life. And they generally come on account of somebody else, too. + There's times when I wish I didn't have any flesh and blood.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey? Good land! No flesh and blood! What do you want—bones?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't mean that. I wish I didn't have any—any relations of my + own flesh and blood.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! I don't know's you'd be any better off. I ain't got nobody and I + 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.” + </p> + <p> + He had guessed it. Kenelm that morning had suddenly announced that he was + to have a day off. He was cal'latin' to borrow Mrs. Barnes' horse and + buggy and go for a ride. His sister promptly declared that would be + lovely; she was just wishing for a ride. Whereupon Kenelm had hemmed and + hawed and, at last, admitted that his company for the drive was already + provided. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” sneered Hannah. “I see. You're goin' to take that precious inmate of + yours along. And I've got to set here alone at home. Well, I should think + you'd be ASHAMED.” + </p> + <p> + “What for? Ain't nothin' in takin' a lady you're keepin' company with out + drivin', is there? I don't see no shame in that.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I presume likely YOU don't. You're way past shame, both of you. And + when I think of all I've done for you. Slaved and cooked your meals—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you're cookin' 'em yet, ain't you? I ain't asked you to stop.” + </p> + <p> + “I will stop, though. I will.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, then; heave ahead and stop. I cal'late my wife'll be willin' + to cook for me, if it's needful.” + </p> + <p> + “Your wife! She ain't your wife yet. And she shan't be. This ridiculous + engaged business of yours is—is—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you don't like the engagin', why don't you stop it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't YOU stop it, you mean. You would if you had the feelin's of a + man.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! And let some everlastin' lawyer sue me out of my last cent for + damages. All right, I'll stop it if you say so. There's plenty of room in + the poorhouse, they tell me. How'd you like to give us this place and move + to the poorhouse, Hannah?” + </p> + <p> + “But—but, O Kenelm, I can't think of your gettin' married! I can't + think of it!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't think of it. I ain't thinkin' of it no more'n I can help. Why ain't + you satisfied with things as they be? Everything's goin' on all right + enough now, ain't it? You and me are livin' together same as we have for + ever so long. You're here and I—well, I—” + </p> + <p> + He did not finish the sentence, but his sister read his thought. She knew + perfectly well that her brother was finding a measure of enjoyment in the + situation, so far as his dealings with her were concerned. He was more + independent than he had been since she took him in charge. But she + realized, too, her own impotence. She could not drive him too hard or he + might be driven into marrying Imogene. And THAT Hannah was determined + should be deferred as long as possible. + </p> + <p> + So she said no more concerning the “ride” and merely showed her feelings + by moping in the corner and wiping her eyes with her handkerchief whenever + he looked in her direction. After he had gone she spent the half-hour + previous to Mr. Hammond's arrival in alternate fits of rage and despair. + </p> + <p> + “So Kenelm's been actin' unlikely, has he?” queried Caleb. “Well, if he + was my brother he'd soon come to time quick, or be put to bed in a + hospital. That's what would happen to HIM.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Parker looked as if the hospital picture was more appealing than + dreadful. + </p> + <p> + “I wish he was your brother,” she said. “Or I wish I was independent and + had a house of my own.” + </p> + <p> + “Huh! Gosh! So do I wish I had one. I've been wishin' it all the mornin'. + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't they give you good things to eat over at Mrs. Barnes'?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they're good enough maybe, if they're what you want. But boardin's + boardin'; 'tain't like your own home.” + </p> + <p> + “Caleb, it's a wonder to me you don't rent a little house and live in it. + You've got money enough; least so everybody says.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! What everybody says is 'most generally lies. What would be the + sense of my hirin' a house? I'd have to have a housekeeper and a good one + costs like thunder. A feller's wife has to get along on what he gives her, + but a housekeeper—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped short, seemingly struck by a new and amazing idea. Miss Parker + rambled on about the old days when “dear papa” was alive; how happy she + was then, and so on, with occasional recourse to the handkerchief. + Suddenly Caleb slapped his knee. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Hannah stared at him. + </p> + <p> + “Married!” she repeated. “Me get married! Who to, for the land sakes? Are + you out of your head?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a mite. What's the matter with you marryin' me?” + </p> + <p> + “My soul! Is this a funny-paper joke, or are you—” + </p> + <p> + “'Tain't a joke; I mean it. Is there any reason why we shouldn't marry and + settle down together, you and me? I don't see none. You could keep house + for me then, and 'twouldn't cost—that is, you could look out for me, + and I—well, I suppose likely I could look out for you, too. Why + not?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, how you talk, Caleb Hammond!” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't talk neither. I mean it. You was wishin' for a home of your + own; so was I. Let's have one together.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I swan! Get married at our—at our age! I never did hear such + talk! We'd be a nice young bride and groom, wouldn't we? I guess East + Wellmouth folks would have somethin' to laugh at then.” + </p> + <p> + “Let 'em laugh. Laughin' don't cost nothin', and, if it does, we won't + have to pay for it. See here, Hannah, this ain't any foolish front-gate + courtin', this ain't. It's just common-sense business. Let's do it. I will + if you will.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Parker shook her head. The prospect of being Mrs. Caleb Hammond was + not too alluring. Caleb's reputation as a husband was not, while his wife + lived, that of a “liberal provider.” And yet this was Hannah's first + proposal, and it had come years after she had given up hoping for one. So + she prolonged the delicious moment as long as possible. + </p> + <p> + “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, and seen + myself, he's hangin' around that hired help girl at the High Cliff pretty + reg'lar these days. Maybe he'll marry her and you'll be left without + anybody. If he don't marry her he can come to live along of us—maybe. + If he does he'll mind his p's and q's, I tell you that. He'll find out + who's boss.” + </p> + <p> + This speech had an effect. For the first time Hannah's determination + wavered. Kenelm was, although Caleb did not know it, actually engaged to + marry Imogene. His sister was even then writhing under the humiliation. + And here was an opportunity to get even, not only with Kenelm, but with + the “inmate.” If she, Hannah, were to marry and leave the pair instead of + 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 sneer at + Imogene! The things she might say—she, the wife of a rich man! Oh, + wonderful! + </p> + <p> + “Well, come on, Hannah, come on,” urged the impatient Caleb. “What do you + say?” + </p> + <p> + But Miss Parker still shook her head. “It ain't any use, Caleb,” she + declared. “Even if—if I wanted to, how could I tell Kenelm? He'd + raise an awful fuss. He'd tell everybody and they—” + </p> + <p> + “No, he wouldn't. I'd break his neck if he did. . . . And—eh—” + as another idea came to him, “he needn't know till 'twas all over. We + could get married right off now, and not tell a soul—Kenelm or + anybody else—till it was done. Then they could talk or shut up, we + wouldn't care. They couldn't change nothin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Caleb Hammond, do you suppose I'd have the face to go to a minister in + this town and have you tell him we'd come to get married? I'd be so + ashamed—” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on! We don't have to go to a minister in this town. There's other + towns with parsons in them, ain't they? We could drive over somewheres + else.” + </p> + <p> + “Everybody'd see us drivin' together.” + </p> + <p> + “What of it? They see us drivin' to the Cattle Show together, didn't + they?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and they've talked about it ever since, some of 'em. That Abbie + Larkin 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 a reg'lar—er—er—domicile + that had run away from the Idiots' Home. No, no, no! I couldn't.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hammond thought it over. Then he said: + </p> + <p> + “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 twelve + and borrow Thankful's horse and buggy out of her barn. I know where she + keeps 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 and + we'll drive over to Trumet—” + </p> + <p> + “Trumet! Why, Caleb Hammond, I know everybody in Trumet well's I do here. + And gettin' to Trumet at three o'clock in the mornin' would be—” + </p> + <p> + “Then we won't go to Trumet. We'll go to Bayport. It's quite a trip, but + that's all the better 'cause we won't make Bayport till daylight. Then + we'll hunt up a parson to marry us and come back here and tell folks when + 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 the critter, bein' + called away on business.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but what will I tell Kenelm?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't tell him anything, the foolhead. Why, yes, you can leave a note + sayin' you've gone up to the village, to the store or somethin', and that + he must get his own breakfast 'cause you won't be back till after he's + gone to work over to Thankful's. That'll fix it. By crimus! That'll fix it + fine. Look here, Hannah Parker; I've set out to do this and, by crimus, + I'm goin' to do it. Come on now; let's.” + </p> + <p> + Caleb was, as has been said, “sot” in his ways. He was “sot” now, and + although Hannah continued to protest and declare she could not do such a + thing, she yielded at last. Mr. Hammond left the Parker cottage in a + triumphant mood. He had won his point and that had pleased him for a time; + then, as he began to ponder upon that point and its consequences his + triumph changed to misgiving and doubt. He had had no idea, until that + 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 marry Hannah Parker. + But he had pleaded and persuaded her into accepting him that very night. + Even if he wished to back out, how could he—now? He was conscious of + an uneasy feeling that, perhaps, he had made a fool of himself. + </p> + <p> + He went to his room early in the evening and stayed there, looking at his + watch and waiting for the rest of the family to retire. He heard Georgie's + voice in the room at the end of the hall, where Mrs. Barnes was tucking + the youngster in for the night. Later he heard Imogene come up the + backstairs and, after her, Thankful herself. But it was nearly eleven + before Heman Daniels' important and dignified step sounded on the front + stairs and by that time the Hammond nerves were as taut as banjo strings. + </p> + <p> + It was nearly twelve before he dared creep downstairs and out of the back + door, the key of which he left in the lock. Luckily the barn was a good + distance from the house and Mrs. Barnes and Imogene were sound sleepers. + But even with those advantages he did not dare attempt getting the buggy + out of the barn, and decided to use the old discarded carryall, relic of + “Cap'n Abner,” which now stood under the open shed at the rear. + </p> + <p> + George Washington looked at him in sleepy wonder as he tiptoed into the + barn and lit the lantern. To be led out of his stall at “midnight's solemn + hour” and harnessed was more than George's equine reasoning could fathom. + The harnessing was a weird and wonderful operation. Caleb's trembling + fingers were all thumbs. After a while, however, the harnessing was + accomplished somehow and in some way, although whether the breeching was + where the bridle should have been or vice versa was more than the + harnesser would have dared swear. After several centuries, as the + prospective bridegroom was reckoning time, the horse was between the + shafts of the carriage and driven very carefully along the road to the + Parker homestead. + </p> + <p> + He hitched the sleepy animal to a pine tree just off the road and tiptoed + toward the hollow, the appointed rendezvous. To reach this hollow he was + obliged to pass through the Parker yard and, although he went on tiptoe, + each footstep sounded, in his ears, like the crack of doom. He tried to + think of some explanation to be made to Kenelm in case the latter should + hear and hail him, but he could think of nothing more plausible than that + he was taking a walk, and this was far from satisfactory. + </p> + <p> + And then he was hailed. From a window above, at the extreme end of the + kitchen, came a trembling whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Caleb! Caleb Hammond, is that you?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hammond's heart, which had been thumping anything but a wedding march + beneath the summer under-flannels, leaped up and stuck in his throat; but + he choked it down and gasped a faint affirmative. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my soul and body! Where HAVE you been? I've been waitin' and + waitin'.” + </p> + <p> + “What in time did you wait up there for? Why don't you come down?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't. Kenelm's locked the doors, and the keys are right next to his + room door. I can't get down.” + </p> + <p> + Here was an unexpected obstacle. Caleb was nonplused. + </p> + <p> + “Go home!” wailed the voice from above. “Don't stand there. Go HOME! Can't + you SEE it ain't any use? Go HOME!” + </p> + <p> + Five minutes before he received this order Mr. Hammond would have been + only too glad to go home. Now he was startled and angry and, being angry, + his habitual stubbornness developed. + </p> + <p> + “I shan't go home neither,” he whispered, fiercely. “If you can't come + down I'll—I'll come up and get you.” + </p> + <p> + “Shh—shh! He'll hear you. Kenelm'll hear you.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care much if he does. See here, Hannah, can't you get down nohow? + 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'?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there's a ladder there, but—where are you goin'? Mr. Hammond—Caleb—” + </p> + <p> + But Caleb was on his way to the woodshed. He found the ladder and + laboriously dragged it beneath the window. Kenelm Parker had a local + reputation for sleeping like the dead. Otherwise Mr. Hammond would never + have dared risk the noise he was making. + </p> + <p> + Even after the ladder had been placed in position, Miss Parker hesitated. + At first she flatly refused to descend, asserting that no mortal power + could get her down that thing alive. But Caleb begged and commanded in + agonized whispers, and finally she was prevailed upon to try. Mr. Hammond + grasped the lower end of the ladder with a grip that brought the + perspiration out upon his forehead, and the lady, with suppressed screams + and ejaculations of “Oh, good Lord!” and “Heavens and earth! 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 the lane. + </p> + <p> + “Whew!” panted the exhausted swain, mopping his brow. “I'm clean tuckered + out. I ain't done so much work for ten years.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't say a word, Caleb Hammond. If I ain't got my death of—of + ammonia or somethin', I miss my guess. I'm all wheezed up from settin' at + that open winder waitin' for you to come; and I thought you never WOULD + come.” + </p> + <p> + As Caleb was helping the lady of his choice into the carryall he noticed + that she carried a small hand-bag. + </p> + <p> + “What you got that thing for?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “It's my reticule; there's a clean handkerchief and a few other things in + it. Mercy on us! You didn't suppose I'd go off to get married without even + a decent handkerchief, did you? I feel enough like a sneakin' ragamuffin + and housebreaker as 'tis. Why I ever was crazy enough to—where have + you put the horse?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hammond led her to where George Washington was tethered. The father of + his country was tired of standing alone in the damp, and he trotted off + briskly. The first mile of their journey was accomplished safely, although + the night was pitch-dark, and when they turned into the Bayport Road, + which for two-thirds of its length leads through thick soft pine and + 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 and + both sides—should be closely buttoned down, as she was fearful of + the effects of the night air. + </p> + <p> + “Fresh air never hurts nobody,” said Caleb. “There ain't nothin' so good + for a body as fresh air. I sleep with my window open wide winter and + summer.” + </p> + <p> + “You DO? Well, I tell you right now, I don't. I should say not! I shut + every winder tight and I make Kenelm do the same thing. I don't run any + risks from drafts.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hammond grunted, and was silent for some little time, only brightening + up when the lady, now in a measure recovered from her fright and the + anxiety of waiting, began to talk of the blessings that were to come from + their independent wedded life in a home of their own. + </p> + <p> + “We'll keep chickens,” she said, “because I do like fresh eggs for + breakfast. Let's see; this is the way 'twill be; you'll get up about five + o'clock and kindle the fire, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Hey?” + </p> + <p> + “I say you'll get up at five o'clock and kindle the fire.” + </p> + <p> + “ME get up and kindle it?” + </p> + <p> + “Sartin; you don't expect I'm goin' to, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “No-o, I suppose not. It come kind of sudden, that's all. You see, I've + been used to turnin' out about seven. Seldom get up afore that.” + </p> + <p> + “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 the + henyard and get what eggs there is. Then—” + </p> + <p> + “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 and + fried potatoes for me, and pie—” + </p> + <p> + “Pie? For breakfast?” + </p> + <p> + “Sartin. Laviny Marthy, my first wife, always had a piece of pie warmed + for me, and I've missed it since. I don't really care two cents for + breakfast without pie.” + </p> + <p> + “Well now, Caleb, if you think I'm goin' to get up and warm up pie every + mornin', let alone fryin' potatoes, and—” + </p> + <p> + “See here, Hannah! Seems to me if I'm willin' to turn out at that ungodly + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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 and I + have when we're alone. But—what are you stoppin' for?” + </p> + <p> + “There seems to be a kind of crossroads here,” said Caleb, bending forward + and peering out of the carryall. “It's so everlastin' dark a feller 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 we went to the + Cattle Show we went up through the Centre. Do you know which is the right + road, Hannah?” + </p> + <p> + Hannah peered forth from the blackness of the back seat. “Now, let me + think,” she said. “Last time I went to Bayport by this road was four year + ago come next February. Sarah Snow's daughter Becky was married to a + feller named Higgins—Solon Higgins' son 'twas. No, 'twa'n't his son, + because—” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, crimus! Who cares if 'twas his aunt's gran'mother? What I want to + know is which road to take.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, seems to me, nigh as I can recollect, that we took the left-hand + road. No, I ain't sure but 'twas the right-hand. There's a bare chance + that it might have been the middle one, 'cause there was trees along both + sides. I know we was goin' to Becky Snow's weddin'—” + </p> + <p> + “Trees 'long it! There ain't nothin' BUT trees for two square miles around + these diggin's. Git dap, you! I'll take the right-hand road. I think + that's the way.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, so do I; but, as I say, I ain't sure. You needn't be so cross and + unlikely, whether 'tis or 'tain't.” + </p> + <p> + If the main road had been dark, the branch road was darker, and the + branches 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. + </p> + <p> + “Caleb,” she said, “what time had we ought to get to Bayport?” + </p> + <p> + “About four o'clock, I should think. We'll drive 'round till about seven + o'clock, and then we'll go and get married. I used to know the Methodist + minister there, and—” + </p> + <p> + “METHODIST minister! You ain't goin' to a Methodist minister to be + married?” + </p> + <p> + “I sartin shouldn't go to no one else. I've been goin' to the Methodist + church for over thirty year. You know that well's I do.” + </p> + <p> + “I snum I never thought of it, or you wouldn't have got me this far + without settlin' that question. I was confirmed into the Baptist faith + when I was twelve year old. And you must have known that just as well as I + knew you was a Methodist.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you knew I was one you ought to know I'd want a Methodist to + marry me. 'Twas a Methodist married me afore.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! What do you suppose I care who married you before? I'm the one + that's goin' with you to be married now; and if I was married by anybody + but a Baptist minister I wouldn't feel as if I was married at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I shan't be married by no Baptist.” + </p> + <p> + “No Methodist shall marry ME.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, look here, Hannah—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care, Caleb. You ain't done nothin' but contradict me since we + started. I've been settin' up all night, and I'm tired out, and there's a + draft comin' in 'round these plaguy curtains right on the back of my neck. + I'll get cold and die and you'll have a funeral on your hands instead of a + weddin'. And I don't know's I'd care much,” desperately. + </p> + <p> + Caleb choked down his own irritation. + </p> + <p> + “There, there, Hannah,” he said, “don't talk about dyin' when you're just + 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 reason I did + figger on goin' to a Methodist was that, I bein' of that faith, I thought + maybe he'd do the job a little cheaper for us.” + </p> + <p> + “Cheaper? What do you mean? Was you cal'latin' to make a BARGAIN with + him?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, course not. But there ain't any sense in heavin' money away on a + parson more'n on anybody else.” + </p> + <p> + “Caleb Hammond, how much do you intend givin' that minister?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hammond stirred uneasily on the seat of the carryall. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know,” he answered evasively. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you do know, too. How much?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. Two or three dollars, maybe.” + </p> + <p> + “TWO or three dollars! My soul and body! Is two dollars all you're willin' + to give up to get MARRIED? Is THAT all the ceremony's worth to you? Two + dollars! My soul!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, let up! I don't care. I'll—I'll—” after a desperate + wrestle with his 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's the matter with him?” + </p> + <p> + The matter was simply that in his hasty harnessing Mr. Hammond had but + partially buckled one of the girths, and the horse was now half-way out of + the shafts, with the larger part of the harness well up towards his ears. + Caleb groaningly climbed down from the seat, rummaged out and lit the + lantern, which he had been thoughtful enough to put under the seat before + starting, and proceeded to repair damages. This took a long time, and in + getting back to the carryall he tore a triangular rent in the back of his + Sunday coat. He had donned his best clothes to be married in, and, to add + to his troubles, had left his watch in the fob-pocket of his everyday + trousers, so they had no means of knowing the time. + </p> + <p> + “That's a nice mess,” he grumbled, taking off his coat to examine the tear + by the light of the lantern. “Nice-lookin' rag-bag I'll be to get + married.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I can mend it when we get to Bayport,” said Miss Parker. + </p> + <p> + “What'll you mend it with—pins?” + </p> + <p> + “No, there's a needle and thread in my reticule. Wait till we get to + Bayport and then—” + </p> + <p> + “Can't mend it in broad daylight ridin up and down the main street, can + you? And I'd look pretty shuckin' my coat in the minister's parlor for you + to patch up the holes in it. Couldn't you mend it now?” + </p> + <p> + Hannah announced her willingness to try, and the reticule being produced, + the needle was threaded after numerous trials, and the mending began. + Caleb, holding the lantern, watched the operation anxiously, his face + falling at every stitch. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I haven't made a good job of it,” sighed Hannah, gazing + sorrowfully at the puckered and wrinkled star in the back of the garment. + “If you'd only held that lantern steady, instead of jigglin' it round and + round so, I might have done better.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hammond said nothing, but struggled into his coat, and picked up the + reins. He sighed, heavily, and his sigh was echoed from the back seat of + the carryall. + </p> + <p> + 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 grew + more and more nervous. After a particularly severe jolt she could not hold + in any longer. + </p> + <p> + “Land of love, Caleb!” she gasped. “Where ARE you goin'! It doesn't seem + as if this could be the right road!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know whether 'tis or not; but it's too narrow and too dark to + turn 'round, so we've got to go ahead, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, heavens! What a jounce that was! Seems to me you're awful reckless. I + wish Kenelm was drivin'; he's always so careful.” + </p> + <p> + This was too much. Mr. Hammond suppressed his feelings no longer. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to thunder he was!” he roared. “I wish Kenelm or some other dam' + fool was here instead of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Caleb HAMMOND!” + </p> + <p> + “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 this cruise + started. If—if we row like this afore we're married what'll it be + afterwards? Talk about bein' independent! Git dap there!” this a savage + roar at George Washington, who had stopped again. “I do believe the + idiot's struck with a palsy.” + </p> + <p> + 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', + though I never thought I'D live to say a thing like that. But it ain't the + horse deserves to be sworn at. He ain't the idiot; the idiots are you and + me. We was both of us out of sorts this mornin', I guess—I know I + was—and then you come along and we talked and—and, well, we + both went into this foolish, ridiculous, awful piece of silliness without + stoppin' to figger out whether we really wanted to, or whether we was + liable to get along together, or anything else. Caleb, I've been wantin' + to say this for the last hour or more—now I'm goin' to say it: You + turn that horse's head around and start right home again.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hammond shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I say yes. I don't want to marry you and I don't believe you want to + marry me. Now do you—honest?” + </p> + <p> + Caleb was silent for a full minute. Then he drew a deep breath. + </p> + <p> + “It don't make no difference whether I do or not, fur's I can see,” he + said, 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 + or ten year to me—and we ought to be pretty near to Bayport. If we + should turn back now we wouldn't get home till long after daylight, and + everybody would be up and wantin' to know the whys and wherefores. If we + told 'em we'd been ridin' around together all night, and didn't give any + reasons for it, there'd be talk enough to last till Judgment. No, we've + just got to get married now. That's all there is to it.” + </p> + <p> + Hannah groaned as the truth of this statement dawned upon her. Caleb + gathered the reins in his hands preparatory to driving on, when a new + thought came to him. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Hannah,” he observed, “I suppose you left that note for Kenelm, + didn't you?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Parker uttered a faint shriek. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my soul!” she cried. “I didn't! I didn't! I wrote it, but I was so + upset when I found I couldn't get the doorkey and get out that way that I + left the note in my bureau drawer.” + </p> + <p> + “Tut, tut! Huh! Well, he may find it there; let's hope he does.” + </p> + <p> + “But he won't! He WON'T! He never finds anything, even if it's in plain + sight. He won't know what's become of me—” + </p> + <p> + “And he'll most likely have the whole town out lookin' for you. I guess + now you see there's nothin' to do but for us to get married—don't + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Oh! Oh!” wailed Miss Parker, and burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + 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 now proceed.” + </p> + <p> + But the horse refused to proceed, and his driver, peering forward, dimly + saw a black barrier in front of him. He lit the lantern once more and, + getting out of the carryall, discovered that the road apparently ended at + a rail fence that barred further progress. + </p> + <p> + “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'm + goin' to take the lantern and explore. You set still till I come back.” + </p> + <p> + But this Miss Parker refused to do. She declared that she would not wait + alone in those woods for anybody or anything. If her companion was going + to explore so was she. So Mr. Hammond assisted her to alight, and after he + had taken down the bars, the pair went on through a grove to where a large + building loomed against the sky. + </p> + <p> + “A church,” said Caleb. “One of the Bayport churches, I cal'late. Wonder + which 'tis?” + </p> + <p> + “There's always a sign on the front of a church,” said Hannah. “Let's go + around front and see.” + </p> + <p> + There were no trees in front of the church, and when they came out by the + front platform, Miss Parker exclaimed, “Well, I never! I wouldn't believe + I'd remember so clear. This church seems just as familiar as if I was here + yesterday. Why, what's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hammond was standing on the platform, holding his lantern up before a + gilt-lettered placard by the church door. + </p> + <p> + “Hannah,” he gurgled, “this night's been too much for me. My foolishness + has struck out of my brains into my eyes. I can't read straight. Look + here.” + </p> + <p> + Hannah clambered up beside her agitated companion, and read from the + placard these words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FIRST BAPTIST CHURCH + + REV. JONATHAN LANGWORTHY, PASTOR +</pre> + <p> + “Good land!” she exclaimed. “Mr. Langworthy! Why, Mr. Langworthy is the + minister at Wellmouth Centre, ain't he? I thought he was.” + </p> + <p> + “He is, but perhaps there's another one.” + </p> + <p> + “No, there ain't—not another Baptist. And—and this church, + what little I can see of it, LOOKS like the Wellmouth Centre Baptist + Church, too; I declare it does! . . . Where are you goin'?” + </p> + <p> + Caleb did not reply, neither did he turn back. Hannah, who did not propose + 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 the lantern and + peering at an iron gate in a white fence. His face, seen by the lantern + light, was a picture of bewildered amazement. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” she demanded. “What IS it?” + </p> + <p> + He did not answer, but merely pointed to the gate. + </p> + <p> + “Eh? What—why—why, Caleb, that's—ain't that the + Nickerson memorial gate? . . . It can't be! But—but it IS! Why—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hammond was muttering to himself. + </p> + <p> + “We took the wrong road at the crossin',” he said. “Then we must have + switched again, probably when we was arguin' about kindlin' the fire; then + we must have turned again when the harness broke; and that must have + fetched us into Lemuel Ellis' wood-lot road that comes out—” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? Lemuel Ellis' wood-lot? Why, Lemuel's wood-lot is at—” + </p> + <p> + “It's at Wellmouth Centre, that's where 'tis. No wonder that church looked + familiar. Hannah, we ain't been nigh Bayport. We've been ridin' round and + round in circles through them woods all night.” + </p> + <p> + “Caleb HAMMOND!” + </p> + <p> + Before Caleb could add anything to his astonishing statement the silence + of the night was broken by the clang of the bell in the tower of the + church. It clanged four times. + </p> + <p> + “WHAT!” exclaimed Caleb. “Only four o'clock! It can't be!” + </p> + <p> + “My soul!” cried Miss Parker, “only four! Why—why, I thought we'd + been ridin' ten hours at least. . . . Caleb Hammond, you and me don't want + to find a minister; what we need to look up is a pair of guardians to take + care of us.” + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Hammond seized her arm. + </p> + <p> + “Hannah,” he cried, excitedly, “do you understand what that means—that + clock 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 can sneak + up that ladder again; I can get that horse and team back in Thankful's + stable; we can both be in our own beds by gettin'-up time and not one soul + need ever know a word about this foolishness. If we—” + </p> + <p> + But Miss Parker had not waited for him to finish; she was already on her + way to the carryall. + </p> + <p> + At a quarter after seven that morning Thankful knocked at the door of her + boarder's room. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hammond!” she called. “Mr. Hammond!” + </p> + <p> + Caleb awoke with a start. + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Are you up? It's most breakfast time.” + </p> + <p> + Caleb, now more thoroughly awake, looked about his room. It was real; he + was actually in it—and safe—and still single. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—yes; all right,” he said. “I'll get right up. Must have + overslept myself, I guess. What—what made you call me? Nothin'—er—nothin's + happened, has it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, nothin's happened. But you're usually up by seven and, as I hadn't + heard a sound from you, I was afraid you might be sick.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; I ain't sick. I'm feelin' fine. Has—has Kenelm Parker got + here yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he's here.” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't—ain't said nothin', has he?” + </p> + <p> + “Said anything? No. What do you mean? What did you expect him to say?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin', nothin', I—I wondered what sort of a drive he and Imogene + had yesterday, that's all. I thought it would be fine to hear him tell + about it. You run along, Mrs. Barnes; I'll hurry and get dressed.” + </p> + <p> + 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 room + without 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. + </p> + <p> + Thankful knocked at his door again. + </p> + <p> + “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 + things for one more day.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey? My winter—Oh, yes, yes. Well, I don't care. It's warmer today + than 'twas yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, it isn't; it's a good deal colder. I hope you won't catch cold.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, I shan't. I'm feelin' fine.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, thank goodness for that.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank goodness for a good many things,” said Mr. Hammond, devoutly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + If Kenelm noticed that George Washington seemed unusually tired that + morning, or that the old carryall behind the barn had some new scratches + on its sides and wheels, and leaves and pine needles on its cushions and + floor, he did not mention what he saw. For a day or two both Mr. Hammond + and Miss Parker were anxious and fearful, but as nothing was said and no + questions were asked, they began to feel certain that no one save + themselves knew of the elopement which had turned out to be no elopement + at all. For a week Hannah's manner toward her brother was sweetness + itself. She cooked the dishes he liked and permitted him to do as he + pleased without once protesting or “nagging.” She had done comparatively + little of the latter since the announcement of the “engagement,” but now + she was more considerate and self-sacrificing than ever. If Kenelm was + aware of the change he made no comment upon it, perhaps thinking it good + policy to let well enough alone. Gradually the eloping couple began to + feel that their secret was secure and to cease worrying about it. But + Caleb called no more at the Parker cottage and when he and Hannah met they + bowed, but did not stop to converse. + </p> + <p> + Miss Timpson's sudden departure from the High Cliff House caused less talk + than Thankful had feared. It happened that the “cousin Sarah” to whose + home Miss Abigail had fled, was seized with an attack of grippe and 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 questioning concerning the + snoring ghost in the back bedroom. For so much she was grateful, but she + missed the weekly room rent and the weekly board money. The financial + situation was becoming more and more serious for her, and as yet Solomon + Cobb had not made known his decision in the matter of the mortgage. + </p> + <p> + During the week following Miss Timpson's departure Thankful spent several + nights in the rooms the former had vacated, lying awake and listening for + sounds from the back bedroom. She heard none. No ghost snored for her + benefit. Then other happenings, happenings of this world, claimed her + attention and she dropped psychical research for the time. + </p> + <p> + The first of these happenings was the most surprising. One forenoon Kenelm + returned from an errand to the village bringing the morning's mail with + him. There were two letters for Mrs. Barnes. One was from Emily and, as + this happened to be on top, Thankful opened it first. + </p> + <p> + There was good news in the letter, good news for Georgie and also for Mrs. + Barnes herself. Georgie had been enjoying himself hugely during his stay + in East Wellmouth. He spent every moment of pleasant weather out of doors + and his energetic exuberance kept the livestock as well as the humans on + the “Cap'n Abner place” awake and lively. He fed the hens, he collected + the eggs, he pumped and carried water for George Washington; and the + feeding of Patrick Henry was his especial care. That pig, now a plump and + somnolent porker, was Georgie's especial favorite. It was past + “hog-killing time” in East Wellmouth, but Thankful had given up the idea + of turning Patrick Henry into spare ribs and lard, at least until her + lively young relative's visit was at an end. That end was what Georgie + feared. He did not want to go home. Certainly Thankful did not want him to + go, and she and Captain Obed—the latter's fondness for his “second + mate” stronger than ever—wrote to Miss Howes, begging her to use her + influence with the family to the end that Georgie's visit might be + prolonged until after Christmas, at any rate. + </p> + <p> + And in Emily's reply, the letter which Kenelm brought from the postoffice + that morning, the permission was granted. Georgie might stay until New + Year's Day. + </p> + <p> + Then [wrote Emily], he must come back with me. Yes, with me; for, you see, + I am going to keep my word. I am coming to spend my Christmas vacation + 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 one not 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 any developments + in the matter of the loan from Mr. Cobb? I am very glad the renewal of the + mortgage is to be all right, but I think he should do more than that. And + have you been troubled in the other affair, that of your neighbor? You + have not mentioned it—but have you? + </p> + <p> + 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 the project of + forcing her to sell out, and Heman Daniels declared that none would be + made. “It is one thing to boast,” said Mr. Daniels, “and another to make + good. My—ahem—er—professional rival is beginning to + realize, I think, that he has in this case bitten off more than he can—er—so + to speak, chew. That young man has succeeded in ruining himself in this + community and that is all he has succeeded in.” + </p> + <p> + John said nothing. At his new boarding-place, Darius Holt's, he answered + no questions concerning his plans, and was silent and non-communicative. + He kept to himself and made no effort to regain his lost popularity or to + excuse his action. Thankful saw him but seldom and even Captain Obed no + longer mentioned John's name unless it was mentioned to him. Then he + discussed the subject with a scornful sniff and the stubborn declaration + that 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. + </p> + <p> + Thankful read and reread the letter from Emily Howes. The news it + contained was so good that she forgot entirely the fact that there was + another envelope in the mail. Only when, as she sprang to her feet to rush + out into the yard and tell Georgie that his plea for an extension of his + visit was granted, was her attention called to this second letter. It fell + from her lap to the floor and she stooped and picked it up. + </p> + <p> + The first thing she noticed was that the envelope was in a remarkably + crumpled and dirty condition. It looked as if it had been carried in a + pocket—and a not too clean pocket—for many days. Then she + noticed the postmark—“Omaha.” The address was the last item to claim + her attention and, as she stared at the crumpled and crooked hand-writing, + she gasped and turned pale. + </p> + <p> + Slowly she sank back into her chair and tore open the envelope. The + inclosure was a dingy sheet of cheap notepaper covered with a penciled + scrawl. With trembling fingers she unfolded the paper and read what was + written there. Then she leaned back in the chair and put her hand to her + forehead. + </p> + <p> + She was sitting thus when the door of the dining-room opened and a voice + hailed: “Ahoy there! Anybody on deck?” + </p> + <p> + She turned to see Captain Obed Bangs' cheery face peering in at her. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” cried the captain, entering the room and tossing his cap on the + table. “You're here, are you? I was lookin' for you and Imogene said she + cal'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 gang to + take up the last of my fish weirs and I thought maybe the little shaver'd + like to go along. I need help in bossin' the fo'mast hands, you see, 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?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful's face was still pale and she was trembling. + </p> + <p> + “Nothin', nothin', Cap'n Bangs,” she said. “I've had a—a surprise, + that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “A surprise! Yes, you look as if you had.” Then, noticing the letter in + her lap, he added. “You ain't had bad news, have you?” + </p> + <p> + “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 ought to do!” + </p> + <p> + The distress in her tone was so real that the captain was greatly + disturbed. He made a move as if to come to her side and then, hesitating, + remained where he was. + </p> + <p> + “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 there anything I could do to help? Course you understand I + ain't nosin' in on your affairs, but, if you feel like tellin' me, maybe I—Look + here, 'tain't nothin' to do with that cussed Holliday Kendrick or his + meanness, is it?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful shook her head. “No,” she said, “it isn't that. I've been + expectin' that and I'd have been ready for anything he might do—or + try to do. But I wasn't expectin' THIS. How COULD anybody expect it? I + thought he was dead. I thought sure he must be dead. Why, it's six year + since he—and now he's alive, and he wants—What SHALL I do?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed took a step forward. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mrs. Barnes,” he begged, “I wish you would—that is, you know + if you feel like it I—well, here I am. Can't I do SOMETHIN'?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful turned and looked at him. She was torn between an intense desire + to make a confidant of someone and her habitual tendency to keep her + personal affairs to herself. The desire overcame the habit. + </p> + <p> + “Cap'n Bangs,” she said, suddenly, “I will tell you I've just got to tell + 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 poor + thing is poverty-struck and friendless, or he says he is, and he wants + money. And—and I haven't got any money just now.” + </p> + <p> + “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 have it for you + inside of a couple of hours. If money's all you want—why, that's + nothin'.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful heard little, apparently, of this prodigal offer. She took up the + letter. + </p> + <p> + “Cap'n Bangs,” said she, “you remember I told you, one time when we were + talkin' together, that I had a brother—Jedediah, his name was—who + used to live with me after my husband was drowned?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I remember. You said he'd run off to go gold-diggin' in the Klondike + or somewheres. You said he was dead.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought he must be. I gave him up long ago, because I was sartin sure + if 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't dead. + He's alive and he's written me now. Here's his letter. Read it, please.” + </p> + <p> + The captain took the letter and slowly read it through. It was a rambling, + incoherent epistle, full of smudges where words had been scratched out and + rewritten, but a pitiful appeal nevertheless. Jedediah Cahoon had + evidently had a hard time since the day when, after declaring his + intention never to return until “loaded down with money,” he had closed + the door of his sister's house at South Middleboro and gone out into the + snowstorm and the world. His letter contained few particulars. He had + wandered far, even as far as his professed destination, the Klondike, 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 and lost that; had been in + Nome and Vancouver and Portland and Seattle; had driven a street car in + Tacoma. + </p> + <p> + I wrote you from Tacoma, Thankful [the letter said], after I lost that + job, 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 want to + come home. Can't I come? I am sorry I cleared out and left you the way I + done, and if you will let me come back home again I will try to be a good + brother to you. I will; honest. I won't complain no more and I will split + the kindling and everything. Please say I can come. Do PLEASE. + </p> + <p> + Then came the appeal for money, money for the fare east. It was to be sent + to an address in San Francisco, in care of a person named Michael Kelly. + </p> + <p> + I am staying with this Kelly man [concluded Jedediah]. He keeps a kind of + hotel like and I am doing chores for him. If you send the money right off + I will get it I guess before he fires me. Send it QUICK for the Lord + sakes. + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed finished the letter. + </p> + <p> + “Whew!” he whistled. “He's in hard luck, ain't he?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful wrung her hands. “Yes,” she answered, “and I must help him + somehow. But how I'm goin' to do it just now I don't see. But I must, of + course. He's my brother and I MUST.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I can't think. And he says he is in San Francisco, and the + postmark on that envelope is Omaha, Nebraska.” + </p> + <p> + “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? And how did + it get to Omaha?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. All I can think of is that he gave the letter to somebody + else to mail and that somebody forgot it. That's all I can think of. I + can't really think of anything after a shock like this. Oh, dear! Oh, + dear! The poor, helpless, incompetent thing! He's probably starved to + death by this time and it's all my fault. I NEVER should have let him go. + What SHALL I do? Wasn't there enough without this?” + </p> + <p> + For the first time Thankful's troubles overcame her courage and + self-restraint. She put her handkerchief to her eyes. + </p> + <p> + The captain was greatly upset. He jammed his hands into his pockets, took + them out again, reached for his own handkerchief, blew his nose violently, + and began pacing up and down the room. Suddenly he seemed to have made up + his mind. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Barnes,” he said, “I—I—” + </p> + <p> + Thankful's face was still buried in her handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “I—I—” continued Captain Obed. “Now, now, don't do that. Don't + DO it!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Barnes wiped her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I won't,” she said, stoutly. “I won't. I know I'm silly and childish.” + </p> + <p> + “You ain't neither. You're the pluckiest and best woman ever was. You're + the finest—er—er—Oh, consarn it, Thankful, don't cry any + more. Can't you,” desperately, “can't you see I can't stand it to have + you?” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Cap'n Bangs, I won't. Don't you bother about me or my worries. + I guess likely you've got enough of your own; most people have.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't. I ain't got enough. Do me good if I had more. Thankful, see + here; what's the use of your fightin' all these things alone? I've watched + you ever since you made port here in South Wellmouth and it's been 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Give it up?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, give it up. Give up this wearin' yourself out keepin' boarders and + runnin' this big house. Why don't you stop takin' care of other folks and + take care of yourself for a spell?” + </p> + <p> + “But I can't. I can't take care of myself. All I have is invested in this + place and if I give it up I lose everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I know what you mean. But what I mean is—is—” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean—I mean why don't you let somebody take care of you? That's + what I mean.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful turned to stare at him. + </p> + <p> + “Somebody—else—take care of me?” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + “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. Thankful Barnes, why—don't + LOOK at me, I tell you!” + </p> + <p> + But she still looked at him, and, if a look ever conveyed a meaning, hers + did just then. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't crazy,” declared Captain Obed. “I can see you think I am, but I + ain't. Thankful, I—Oh, thunderation! What is the matter with me? + Thankful, let ME take care of you, will you?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful rose to her feet. “Obed Bangs!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “I mean it. I've been meanin' it more and more ever since I first met you, + but I ain't had the spunk to say it. Now I'm goin' to say it if I keel + over on the last word. Thankful, why don't you marry me?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful was speechless. The captain plunged desperately on. + </p> + <p> + “Will you, Thankful?” he begged. “I know I'm an old codger, but I ain't in + my second childhood, not yet. I—I'd try mighty hard to make you + happy. I haven't got anybody of my own in the world. Neither have you—except + this brother of yours, and, judgin' from his letter and what you say, HE + won't take any care; he'll BE a care, that's all. I ain't rich, but I've + got money enough to help you—and him—and me afloat and + comf'table. Thankful, will you?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful was still looking at him. He would have spoken again, but she + raised her hand and motioned him to silence. + </p> + <p> + “Obed,” she asked, after a moment, “what made you say this to me?” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + She raised her hand again. “I see,” she said, slowly. “I see. Thank you, + Obed. You're so kind and self-sacrificin' you'd do anything or say + anything to help a—friend, wouldn't you? But of course you can't do + this.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't? Why can't I? Self-sacrifice be hanged! Thankful, can't you see—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Oh yes. I can see. . . . Now let's talk about Jedediah. Do you think—” + </p> + <p> + “Jedediah be keelhauled! Will you marry me, Thankful Barnes?” + </p> + <p> + “Why no, Obed; of course I won't.” + </p> + <p> + “You won't? Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because—well, because I—I can't. There, there, Obed! Please + don't ask me again. Please don't!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “PLEASE, Obed,” she begged. + </p> + <p> + The captain slowly shook his head. Then he laughed a short, mirthless + laugh. + </p> + <p> + “What an old fool I am!” he muttered. “What an old fool!” + </p> + <p> + “Obed, don't talk so! Don't! Do you want to make this—everything—harder + for me?” + </p> + <p> + He straightened and squared his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “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 any + more, if I can help it. Make it harder for you? I guess not!” + </p> + <p> + “Obed, I'm so sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “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, but I'm awake + now. Yes'm, I'm awake. Now just you forget that I talked in my sleep. + Forget the whole of it and let's get back to—to that brother of + yours. We've got to locate him, that's the first thing to be done. I'll + send a telegram right off to that Kelly man out in 'Frisco askin' if + what's-his-name—Jedediah—is there yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Obed, you won't—you won't feel hard towards me? You won't let—this—interfere + with our friendship?” + </p> + <p> + “Sho! Hush, hush, Thankful! You make me more ashamed of myself than ever, + and that ain't necessary. Now the first thing is to send that telegram. If + we locate your brother then we'll send him a ticket to Boston 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 you can pay me + afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; of course I shan't let—” + </p> + <p> + “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 want me to + believe I ain't your friend, you'll let me run my own course this time. So + long, Thankful; I'm off to Chris Badger's to send that telegram.” + </p> + <p> + He snatched up his cap and was on his way to the door. She followed him. + </p> + <p> + “Obed,” she faltered, “I—I—What CAN I say to you? You are SO + good!” + </p> + <p> + “Tut! tut! Me good? Don't let Heman Daniels hear you say that. He's a + church deacon and knows what goodness is. So long, Thankful. Soon's I hear + from Kelly, I'll report.” + </p> + <p> + 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 she sat + there and then, leaning her head upon her arms on the table, wept tears of + absolute loneliness and despair. + </p> + <p> + The telegram to Michael Kelly of San Francisco brought an answer, but a + most unsatisfactory one. Jedediah Cahoon had not been in the Kelly employ + for more than six weeks. Kelly did not know where he had gone and, + apparently, did not care. Captain Obed then wired and wrote the San + Francisco police officials, urging them to trace the lost one. This they + promised to do, but nothing came of it. The weeks passed and no word from + them or from Jedediah himself was received. His letter had come to prove + that, at the time it was written, he was alive; whether or not he was + still alive, or where he might be if living, was as great a mystery as + ever. Day after day Thankful watched and waited and hoped, but her waiting + was unrewarded, and, though she still hoped, her hope grew steadily + fainter; and the self-reproach and the worry greater in proportion. + </p> + <p> + She and Georgie and Imogene spent Thanksgiving Day alone. Heman Daniels + and Mr. Hammond were invited out and Captain Obed, who had meant to eat + his Thanksgiving dinner at the High Cliff House, was called to Boston on + business connected with his fish selling, and could not return in time. + </p> + <p> + Early in December Thankful once more drove to Trumet to call upon Solomon + Cobb. The question of the renewal of the mortgage she felt must remain a + question no longer. But she obtained little satisfaction from her talk + with the money-lender. Mr. Cobb's first remark concerned the Holliday + Kendrick offer to buy the “Cap'n Abner place.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he mean it, do you think?” he demanded. “Is he really so sot on + buyin' as folks say he is?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid so.” + </p> + <p> + “Huh! And he's hired his lawyer—that young cousin of his—Bailey + Kendrick's son—to make you sell out to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the young feller done about it; anything?” + </p> + <p> + “No; nothin' that I know of.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Sure of that, be ye? I hear he's been spendin' consider'ble time + over to Ostable lately, hangin' round the courthouse, and the probate + clerk's office. Know what he's doin' that for?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I didn't know he had. How did you know it?” + </p> + <p> + “I knew. Ain't much goin' on that I don't know; I make it my business to + know. Why don't you sell out to old Holliday?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to sell. My boardin'-house has just got a good start and why + should I give it up? I won't sell.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you won't! Pretty independent for anybody with a mortgage hangin' + over 'em, ain't ye?” + </p> + <p> + “Solomon, are you goin' to renew that mortgage when it comes due?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cobb pulled his whiskers. “I don't know's I am and I don't know's I + ain't,” he said. “This Kendrick business kind of mixes things up. Might be + a good idea for me to foreclose that mortgage and sell the place to him at + my own price. Eh? What do you think of that?” + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't do it! You couldn't be so—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But he ain't goin' to put me out.” + </p> + <p> + “He says he is. Now—now—clear out and don't bother me. When + that mortgage falls due I'll let you know what I intend doin' with it. If + you pester me now I won't renew anyhow. Go along home and quit your + frettin'. Long's you're there, you BE there. What more do you want?” + </p> + <p> + There was a good deal more of this sort of thing, but it was all quite as + unsatisfactory. Thankful gave it up at last. + </p> + <p> + “I shan't come here again,” she declared desperately. “If you want to see + me you can come to my place.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you will, or not see me. Why haven't you been there? Time and time + again you have promised to come, but you never have. I shall begin to + believe there is some reason why you don't want to go into that house.” + </p> + <p> + She was on her way to the door, but Solomon called after her. + </p> + <p> + “Here!” he shouted. “Hold on! What do you mean by that? Why shouldn't I go + into that house if I want to? Why shouldn't I?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know; all I know is that you don't seem to want to. I can't say + why you don't want to, but—” + </p> + <p> + “But what?” + </p> + <p> + “But, maybe, if someone that's dead and gone was here—he could.” + </p> + <p> + “He—he—who? What? Hi! Where you goin'?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm goin' home.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you ain't—not until you tell me what you mean by—by + somebody that's dead and gone. What kind of talk is that? What do you + mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I don't know what I mean, Solomon; but I think you do. If you don't + then your looks belie you, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + She went out of the “henhouse.” As she drove away she saw Mr. Cobb peering + at her through the window. He was “weeding” with both hands and he looked + agitated and—yes, frightened. Thankful was more than ever certain + that his mysterious behavior was in some way connected with his past + dealings with her Uncle Abner, but, not knowing what those dealings might + have been, the certainty was not likely to help her. And he had not said + that he would renew the mortgage. + </p> + <p> + Georgie was the first to meet her when she drove into the yard. He had + been spending the day with Captain Obed and had coaxed the latter into + telling him stories of Santa Claus. Georgie's mind was now filled with + anticipations of Christmas and Christmas presents, and his faith in Santa, + which had been somewhat shaken during his year at kindergarten in South + Middleboro, was reviving again. The captain and Imogene and Mrs. Barnes + all helped in the revival. “Christmas loses three-quarters of its fun 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 or such matter. This'll + probably be the second mate's last Santa Claus Christmas, so let's keep + this one the real thing for the boy.” + </p> + <p> + So he and Imogene and Thankful—yes, even Kenelm—discussed + Santa for Georgie's benefit and Georgie believed, although his belief was + not as absolute and unquestioning as it had once been. He asked a great + many questions, some of which his elders found hard to answer. His dearest + wish was for an air-gun, but somehow Mrs. Barnes did not seem to think the + wish would be gratified. She had a strong presentiment that the + combination of Georgie and an air-gun and the chickens might not be a + desirable one, especially for the chickens. + </p> + <p> + “But why won't he bring it, Auntie?” demanded Georgie. “You say he brings + good boys what they want. I've been a good boy, ain't I?” + </p> + <p> + “'Deed you have. I wouldn't ask for a better one.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why won't Santa bring me the gun?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he'll think a gun isn't nice for such a little boy to have.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is nice. It's nicer'n anything. If I'm good and I want it I don't + see why I can't have it. I think Santa's mean if he don't bring it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, he isn't mean. Just think how good he is! He comes to every boy + and girl—” + </p> + <p> + “No, he don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Why yes, he does. To every good little boy and girl.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum! Perhaps Patsy wasn't good.” + </p> + <p> + “Gee! Yes, he was. He can play baseball better'n any boy I know. And he + can lick any kid his size; he told me he could.” + </p> + <p> + This crushing proof of young Leary's goodness was a staggerer for + Thankful. Before she could think of a reply Georgie asked another + question. + </p> + <p> + “You say he'll come down the chimney?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “The livin'-room chimney?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, probably.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he won't.” + </p> + <p> + “Georgie!” + </p> + <p> + “How can he? He's so fat; he's ever so fat in the pictures. How can he get + through the stovepipe?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Barnes' answer was evasive and Georgie noticed the evasion. However, + his trust in his Aunt Thankful was absolute and if she said a fat man + could get through a stovepipe he probably could. But the performance + promised to be an interesting one. Georgie wished he might see it. He + thought a great deal about it and, little by little, a plan began forming + in his mind. + </p> + <p> + Three days before Christmas Emily Howes arrived at the High Cliff House. + She was received with rejoicings. The young lady looked thinner than when + she went away and seemed more grave and careworn. But when Thankful + commented upon her appearance Emily only laughed and declared herself + quite well and perfectly happy. She and her cousin discussed all topics of + common interest except one, that one was John Kendrick. Once or twice + Thankful mentioned the young man's name, but invariably Emily changed the + 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 in her + relative's look and manner. + </p> + <p> + Christmas was to be, as Thanksgiving had been, a day free from boarders at + 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 of late, + though no one seemed to know exactly where he had been or why. + </p> + <p> + The day before Christmas was cold and threatening. Late in the afternoon + it began to rain and the wind to blow. By supper time a fairly able storm + had developed and promised to develop still more. Captain Obed, his arms + filled with packages, all carefully wrapped and all mysterious and not to + be opened till the next day, came in just after supper. + </p> + <p> + “Where's that second mate of mine?” whispered the captain, anxiously. When + told that Georgie was in the kitchen with Imogene he sighed in relief. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” he said. “Hide those things as quick as ever you can, afore he + lays eyes on 'em. He's sharper'n a sail needle, that young one is, and if + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Emily hurried upstairs with the packages. Captain Obed turned to Thankful. + </p> + <p> + “How is she these days?” he asked, with a jerk of the head in the + direction taken by Miss Howes. + </p> + <p> + “She's pretty well, or she says she is. I ain't so sure myself. I'm afraid + she thinks about—about HIM more than she makes believe. I'm afraid + matters between them two had gone farther'n we guessed.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed nodded. “Shouldn't wonder,” he said. “John looks pretty + peaked, too. I saw him just now.” + </p> + <p> + “You did? John Kendrick? He's been out of town for a week or two, so I + heard. Where did you see him?” + </p> + <p> + “At the Centre depot. I was up to the Centre—er—buyin' a few + things and he got off the noon train.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you speak to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, or he spoke to me. He and I ain't said much to each other—what + little 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 + the platform. Say,” after a moment's hesitation, “there's another thing I + want to ask you. How's Heman Daniels actin' since Emily come? Seems more'n + extry happy, does he?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, no. He's been away, too, a good deal; on business, he + said.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! He and—er—Emily haven't been extra thick, then?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Come to think of it they've hardly seen each other. Emily has acted + sort of—sort of queer about him, too. She didn't seem to want to + talk about him more'n she has about John.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! That's funny. I can't make it out. You see Heman got on that same + train John got off. He was comin' along the depot platform just as I got + to it. And the depot-master sung out to him.” + </p> + <p> + “The depot-master? Eben Foster, you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Yup. He sung out, 'Congratulations, Heman,' says he.” + </p> + <p> + “'What you congratulatin' him for?' says I. + </p> + <p> + “'Ain't you heard?' says he. 'He's engaged to be married'.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful uttered an exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “Engaged!” she repeated. “Mr. Daniels engaged—to be married?” + </p> + <p> + “So Eben said. I wanted to ask a million questions, of course, but John + Kendrick 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 he + wa'n't any more shook than I was. I thought—Well, you see, I thought—” + </p> + <p> + Thankful knew what he had thought. She also was “shaken up.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe it,” she cried. “If—if—it can't he HER. Why, + she would have told me, I'm sure. Obed, you don't think—” + </p> + <p> + “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. I don't + know, Thankful; one thing's sartin, Heman's kept his engagement mighty + quiet. How Eben learned of it I don't know, but nobody in East Wellmouth + knows, for I've been soundin' ever since I struck here.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful was greatly troubled. “I HOPE it ain't true,” she cried. “I + suppose he's all right, but—but I didn't want Emily to marry him.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither did I. Perhaps she ain't goin' to. Perhaps it's just a + round-the-stove lie, like a shipload of others that's set afloat every + day. But, from somethin' John Kendrick said to me on that platform I knew + he heard what Eben said.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “'Cause he as much as told me so. 'Is it true?' says he. + </p> + <p> + “'I don't know,' says I. 'First I'd heard of it, if 'tis.' + </p> + <p> + “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 settles it. + I can do it now with a clear conscience.' + </p> + <p> + “'Do what?' I asked him. + </p> + <p> + “'Oh, nothin',' he says. 'Cap'n Obed, are you goin' to be busy all day + tomorrow? I know it's Christmas, of course; but are you?' + </p> + <p> + “'Not so busy it'll wreck my nerves keepin' up with my dates,' says I. + 'Why?' + </p> + <p> + “'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'd + like to have you there. Will you come?' + </p> + <p> + “'Sartin,' I told him. + </p> + <p> + “'Of course, if you're afraid of the moral leprosy—' + </p> + <p> + “'I ain't.' + </p> + <p> + “'Then I'll look for you,' says he, and off he went. I ain't seen him + since. He come down along of Winnie S. and I had one of Chris Badger's + teams. Now WHAT do you cal'late it all means?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I don't know. But I can't think Emily—Hush! she's + comin'.” + </p> + <p> + Emily entered the room and Captain Obed began philosophically concerning + the storm, which he declared was “liable to be a hooter.” + </p> + <p> + He went away soon after. At the door, when he and Mrs. Barnes were alone, + he whispered, “Ain't changed your mind, have you, Thankful? About—about + what I said to you that day?” + </p> + <p> + “Obed, please! You said you wouldn't.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, all right. Well, good night. I'll be around tomorrow to wish + you and Emily and the second mate a merry Christmas. Good night, + Thankful.” + </p> + <p> + After he had gone Thankful and Emily assisted Georgie in hanging up his + stocking and preparing for bed. The boy seemed willing to retire, a most + unusual willingness for him. His only worry appeared to be concerning + Santa Claus, whom he feared might be delayed in his rounds by the storm. + </p> + <p> + “He'll be soaked, soppin' wet, won't he?” he asked anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he won't mind. Santa Claus don't mind this kind of weather. He lives + up at the North Pole, so folks say.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Won't the chimney soot all stick to him when he's wet? He'll be a + sight, won't he?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so, but he won't mind that, either. Now, you go to bed, Georgie, + like a good boy.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm a-goin'. Say, Aunt Thankful, will the soot come all off on my + presents?” + </p> + <p> + They got him into bed at last and descended to the living-room. The storm + was worse than ever. The wind howled and the rain beat. Emily shivered. + </p> + <p> + “Mercy! What a night!” she exclaimed. “It reminds me of our first night in + this house, Auntie.” + </p> + <p> + “Does; that's a fact. Well, I hope there's nobody prowlin' around lookin' + for a place to put their head in, the way we were then. I—what's + that?” + </p> + <p> + “What? What, Auntie? I didn't hear anything.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought I did. Sounded as if somebody was—and they are! Listen!” + </p> + <p> + Emily listened. From without, above the noise of the wind and rain and + surf, came a shout. + </p> + <p> + “Hi!” screamed a high-pitched voice. “Hi! Let me in. I—I'm + drownin'.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful rushed to the door and, exerting all her strength, pushed it open + against the raging storm. + </p> + <p> + “There's nobody here,” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “But—but there is, Auntie. I heard someone. I—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, for, out of the drenched darkness staggered a figure, the + figure of a man. He plunged across the threshold, tripped over the mat and + fell in a heap upon the floor. + </p> + <p> + Emily shrieked. Mrs. Barnes pulled the door shut and ran to the prostrate + figure. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” she asked. “Who IS it? Are you hurt?” + </p> + <p> + The figure raised its head. + </p> + <p> + “Hurt!” it panted. “It's a wonder I ain't dead. What's the matter with ye? + Didn't you hear me yellin' for you to open that door?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful drew a long breath. + </p> + <p> + “For mercy sakes!” she cried. “Solomon Cobb! WHAT are you doin' over here + a night like this?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Cobb slowly raised his head. He looked about him in a bewildered way, + and then his gaze fixed itself upon Mrs. Barnes. + </p> + <p> + “What—why—YOU!” he gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” stammered Thankful, whose surprise and bewilderment were almost as + great as his. “Eh? What?” + </p> + <p> + “You?” repeated Solomon. “What—what are you doin' here?” + </p> + <p> + “What am I doin' here? What am I doin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” Then, after another stare about the room, he added: “This ain't + Kenelm Parker's house? Whose house is it?” + </p> + <p> + “It's my house, of course. Emily, go and fetch some—some water or + somethin'. He's out of his head.” + </p> + <p> + Emily hurried to the kitchen, Thankful hastened to help the unexpected + visitor to his feet. But the visitor declined to be helped. + </p> + <p> + “Let me alone,” he roared. “Let me be. I—I want to know whose house + this is?” + </p> + <p> + “It's my house, I tell you. You ought to know whose house it is. Land + sakes! You and I have had talk enough about it lately. Don't you know + where you are? What are you sittin' there on the floor for? Are you hurt?” + </p> + <p> + Slowly Mr. Cobb rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to tell me,” he demanded, “that this is—is Abner's + place? How'd I get here?” + </p> + <p> + “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. Seems as if + you must have hurt yourself. And you're soppin' wet through! What in the + WORLD?” + </p> + <p> + She moved toward him again, but he waved her away. + </p> + <p> + “Let me alone!” he ordered. “I was headin' for Kenelm Parker's. How'd I + get here?” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you I don't know. I suppose you lost your way. No wonder, such a + night's this. Set down. Let me get you somethin' hot to drink. Come out in + the kitchen by the cookstove. Don't—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush up! Let me think. I never see such a woman to talk. I—I don't + see how I done it. I left Chris Badger's and came across the fields and—” + </p> + <p> + “And you took the wrong path, I guess, likely. Did you WALK from Chris + Badger's? Where's your horse and team? You didn't walk from the Centre, + did you?” + </p> + <p> + “'Course I didn't. Think I'm a dum fool? My horse fell down and hurt his + knee and I left him in Badger's barn. I cal'lated to go to Kenelm's and + put up over night. I—” + </p> + <p> + He was interrupted by Emily, who entered with a glass in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Here's the water, Auntie,” she said. “Is he better now?” + </p> + <p> + “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 more water? + 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 from here? How long + will it take me to get there?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful answered, and her answer was decisive. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” she said, “but I do know you ain't goin' to try to get + anywhere 'till mornin'. You and I ain't been any too lovin', Solomon Cobb, + 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 that chill you've + got this very minute.” + </p> + <p> + There was no doubt about the chill. Solomon's face and hands were blue and + he was shaking from head to foot. But his determination was unshaken. He + strode to the door. + </p> + <p> + “How do I get to Parker's?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you you mustn't go to Parker's or anywhere else. You're riskin' + your life.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cobb did not answer. He lifted the latch and pulled the door open. A + howling gust of wind-driven rain beat in upon him, drenching the carpet + and causing the lamp to flicker and smoke. For a moment Solomon gazed out + into the storm; then he relinquished his hold and staggered back. + </p> + <p> + “I—I can't do it!” he groaned. “I've GOT to stay here! I've GOT to!” + </p> + <p> + Thankful, exerting all her strength, closed the door and locked it. + “Indeed you've got to,” she declared. “Now go out into the kitchen and set + by the stove while I heat a kettle and make you some ginger tea or + somethin'.” + </p> + <p> + Solomon hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “He must, Aunt Thankful,” urged Emily; “he really must.” + </p> + <p> + The visitor turned to stare at her. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” he demanded, ungraciously. Then, as another chill racked + him from head to foot, he added: “I don't care. Take me somewheres and + give me somethin'—ginger tea or—or kerosene or anything else, + so it's hot. I—I'm—sho—oo—ook all to—pi—ic—ces.” + </p> + <p> + They led him to the kitchen, where Thankful prepared the ginger tea. + During its preparation she managed to inform Emily concerning the identity + of their unexpected lodger. Solomon, introduced to Miss Howes, merely + grunted and admitted that he had “heard tell” of her. His manner might + have led a disinterested person to infer that what he had heard was not + flattering. He drank his tea, and as he grew warmer inside and out his + behavior became more natural, which does not mean that it was either + gracious or grateful. + </p> + <p> + At length he asked what time it was. Thankful told him. + </p> + <p> + “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're sleepin' + your wet clothes can be dryin' here by the cookstove.” + </p> + <p> + Solomon grunted, but he was, apparently, willing to retire. Then came the + question as to where he should sleep. Emily offered a suggestion. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you put him in the back room, Auntie,” she said. “The one Miss + Timpson used to have. That isn't occupied now and the bed is ready.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful hesitated. “I don't know's he'd better have that room, Emily,” + she said. + </p> + <p> + “Why not? I'm sure it's a very nice room.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know it is, but—” + </p> + <p> + “But what?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cobb had a remark to make. + </p> + <p> + “Well, come on, come on,” he said, testily. “Put me somewheres and do it + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Emily took the lamp and led the way up the back stairs. Solomon followed + her and Thankful brought up the rear. She felt a curious hesitancy in + putting even her disagreeable relative in that room on this night. Around + the gables and upon the roof the storm whined and roared as it had the + night when she first explored that upper floor. And she remembered, now, + that it had stormed, though not as hard, the night when Miss Timpson + received her “warning.” If there were such things as ghosts, and if the + little back bedroom WAS haunted, a night like this was the time for + spectral visitations. She had half a mind to give Mr. Cobb another room. + </p> + <p> + But, before she could decide what to do, before the struggle between her + common-sense and what she knew were silly forebodings was at an end, the + question was decided for her. Solomon had entered the large room and + expressed his approval of it. + </p> + <p> + “This'll do first rate,” he said. “Why didn't you want to put me in here? + Suppose you thought 'twas too good for me, eh? Well, it might be for some + folks, but not for me. What's that, a closet?” + </p> + <p> + He was pointing to the closed door of the little room, the one which Miss + Timpson had intended using as a study. Thankful had, after her last night + of fruitless spook hunting, closed the door and locked it. + </p> + <p> + “What's this door locked for?” asked Mr. Cobb, who had walked over and was + trying the knob. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing; it's just another empty room, that's all. There's nothin' in + it.” + </p> + <p> + “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 evident + disappointment. “'Tis empty, ain't it? Well, good night.” + </p> + <p> + Emily, whose face expressed a decided opinion concerning the visitor, + walked out into the hall. Thankful remained. + </p> + <p> + “Solomon,” she said, in a whisper, “tell me. Have you made up your mind + about that mortgage?” + </p> + <p> + “Um? No, I ain't. Part of what I came over here today for was to find out + a little more about this property and about Holliday Kendrick's offer 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 to dicker + with him. He's got money, and if I can get some of it, so much the better + for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Solomon, you don't mean—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what I mean yet, I tell ye. But I do tell you this: I'm a + business man and I know the value of money. I worked hard for what I got; + 'twa'n't left me by nobody, like some folks's I hear of. Don't ask me no + more questions. I'll see old Kendrick tomorrow, maybe; he's expected + down.” + </p> + <p> + “He is? Mr. Holliday Kendrick? How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I know 'cause I found out, same as I usually find out things. Chris + Badger got a telegram through his office from Holliday to John Kendrick + sayin' he'd come on the noon train.” + </p> + <p> + “But why should he come? And on Christmas day?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. Probably he ain't so silly about Christmas as the average + run 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 nigh beat + out.” + </p> + <p> + “And you won't tell me about that mortgage?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I'll tell you when my mind's made up; that ain't yet.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful turned to go. At the threshold she spoke once more. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what you say in those prayers of yours, Solomon,” she observed. + “I should imagine the Lord might find 'em interestin'.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad I said it, Emily,” she told her cousin, who was awaiting her in + her bedroom. “I presume likely it'll do more harm than good, but it did ME + good while I was sayin' it. The mean, stingy old hypocrite! Now let's go + downstairs and fill Georgie's stockin'.” + </p> + <p> + But that ceremony, it appeared, must be deferred. Georgie was still + wide-awake. He called to Emily to ask if the man who had come was Santa + Claus. + </p> + <p> + “The little rascal,” chuckled Thankful. “Well,” with a sigh, “he'll never + make a worse guess if he lives to be as old as Methuselah's grandmarm. + Emily, you sneak down and fetch the stockin' and the presents up here to + my room. We'll do the fillin' here and hang up the stockin' in the mornin' + afore he gets up.” + </p> + <p> + While they were filling the stocking and tying the packages containing + gifts 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's + financial affairs, already aroused by the lady's reticence, were now + active. She questioned and, after a time, Thankful told her, first a + little and then all the truth. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't mean to tell you, Emily,” she said, tearfully. “I didn't mean to + tell a soul, but I—I just couldn't keep it to myself any longer. If + he doesn't renew that mortgage—and goodness knows what he'll do + after he talks with Mr. Holliday Kendrick—I—I don't see how I + can help losin' everything. It's either that or sell out, and I don't want + to sell—Oh, I don't! I know I can make a go of this place of mine if + I have another year of it. I KNOW I can.” + </p> + <p> + Emily was very much excited and fiercely indignant. + </p> + <p> + “The beast!” she cried, referring to the pious occupant of the back + bedroom; “the mean, wicked, miserable old miser! To think of his being a + relative of yours, Aunt Thankful, and treating you so! And accepting your + hospitality at the very time when he is considering taking your home away + from you!” + </p> + <p> + Thankful smiled ruefully. “As to that, Emily,” she said, “I ain't greatly + 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'd be scared to get + down on his knees for fear he'd never be let up again. Well, if there IS a + ghost in that room I should say this was its chance.” + </p> + <p> + “A ghost? What are you talking about, Auntie?” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? Oh, nothin', nothin'. Did I say 'ghost'? I didn't realize what I + said, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why did you say it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know. . . . There, there, don't let's get any more foolish + than we can help. Let's go to bed. We'll have to turn out awful early in + the mornin' to get Georgie's stockin' hung up and his presents ready. Now + trot off to bed, Emily.” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Thankful, you're hiding something from me. I know you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Emily, you know I wouldn't—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you would. At least, you have. All this time you have been deceiving + me about that mortgage. And now I think there is something else. What did + you mean by a ghost in that room?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't mean anything. There ain't any ghost in that room—the one + Solomon's in.” + </p> + <p> + “In THAT room? Is there one in another room?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Emily—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Emily, it's all such perfect foolishness. You don't believe in + ghosts, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither do I. Whatever it is that snores and groans in that little back + room ain't—” + </p> + <p> + “AUNTIE! What DO you mean?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful was cornered. Her attempts at evasion were useless and, little by + little, Emily drew from her the story of the little back bedroom, of her + own experience there the night of their first visit, of what Winnie S. had + said concerning the haunting of the “Cap'n Abner place,” and of Miss + Timpson's “warning.” She told it in a low tone, so as not to awaken + Georgie, and, as she spoke, the wind shrieked and wailed and groaned, the + blinds creaked, the water dripped and gurgled in the gutters, and the + shadows outside the circle of light from the little hand lamp were black + and threatening. Emily, as she listened, felt the cold shivers running up + and down her spine. It is one thing to scoff at superstition in the bright + sunlight; it is quite another to listen to a tale like this on a night + like this in a house a hundred years old. Miss Howes scoffed, it is true, + but the scoffing was not convincing. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” she said, stoutly. “A ghost that snores? Who ever heard of + such a thing?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody ever did, I guess,” Thankful admitted. “It's all too silly for + anything, of course. I KNOW it's silly; but, Emily, there's SOMETHIN' + queer about that room. I told you what I heard; somethin' or somebody + said, 'Oh, Lord!' as plain as ever I heard it said. And somethin' or + somebody snored when Miss Timpson was there. And, of course, when they + tell 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—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, stop, Auntie! You will have ME believing in—in things, if you + keep on. It's nonsense and you and I will prove it so before I go back to + Middleboro. Now you must go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm goin'. Well, if there is a ghost in that room it'll have its + hands full with Sol Cobb. He's a tough old critter, if ever there was one. + Good night, Emily.” + </p> + <p> + “Good night, Aunt Thankful. Don't worry about the—ha! ha!—ghost, + will you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I've got enough to worry about this side of the grave. . . . Mercy! + what's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing! I—I thought I heard a noise in—in the hall. I didn't + though.” + </p> + <p> + “No, course you didn't. Shall I go to your room with you?” + </p> + <p> + “No indeed! I—I should be ashamed to have you. Where is Imogene?” + </p> + <p> + “She's up in her room. She went to bed early. Goodness! Hear that wind. It + cries like—like somethin' human.” + </p> + <p> + “It's dreadful. It is enough to make anyone think. . . . There! If you and + I talk any longer we shall both be behaving like children. Good night.” + </p> + <p> + “Good night, Emily. Is Georgie asleep at last?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so. I haven't heard a sound from him. Call me early, Auntie.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful lit her own lamp; Emily took the one already lighted and hastened + down the hall. Thankful shut the door and prepared for bed. The din of the + storm was terrific. The old house shook as if it were trembling with + fright and screaming in the agony of approaching dissolution. It was a + long time before Thankful fell asleep, but at last she did. + </p> + <p> + She was awakened by a hand upon her arm and a voice whispering in her ear. + </p> + <p> + “Auntie!” whispered Emily. “Auntie, wake up! Oh, DO wake up!” + </p> + <p> + Thankful was broad awake in a moment. She sat up in bed. The room was in + black darkness, and she felt rather than saw Miss Howes standing beside + her. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Emily?” she cried. “What is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, hush! Don't speak so loud. Get up! Get up and light the lamp.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful sprang out of bed and hunted for the matchbox. She found it after + a time and the lamp was lighted. Emily, wearing a wrapper over her night + clothes, was standing by the door, apparently listening. Her face was + white and she was trembling. + </p> + <p> + “What IS it?” whispered Thankful. + </p> + <p> + “Hush! I don't know what it is. Listen!” + </p> + <p> + Thankful listened. All she heard were the noises of the storm. + </p> + <p> + “I don't hear anything,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “No—no, you can't hear it from here. Come out into the hall.” + </p> + <p> + Cautiously and on tiptoe she led the way to the hall and toward the head + of the front stairs. There she seized her cousin's arm and whispered in + her ear. + </p> + <p> + “Listen—!” she breathed. + </p> + <p> + Thankful listened. + </p> + <p> + “Why—why,” she whispered, “there's somebody down in the livin'-room! + Who is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. There are more than one, for I heard them talking. Who CAN + it be?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful listened again. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Georgie?” she whispered, after a moment. + </p> + <p> + “In his room, I suppose. . . . What? You don't think—” + </p> + <p> + Thankful had tiptoed back to her own room and was returning with the lamp. + Together they entered Georgie's bed chamber. But bed and room were empty. + Georgie was not there. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <p> + Georgie had gone to bed that Christmas Eve with a well-defined plan in his + small head. He knew what he intended doing and how he meant to do it. The + execution of this plan depended, first of all, upon his not falling + asleep, and, as he was much too excited to be in the least sleepy, he + found no great difficulty in carrying out this part of his scheme. + </p> + <p> + He had heard the conversation accompanying Mr. Cobb's unexpected entrance + and had waited anxiously to ask concerning the visitor's identity. When + assured by his sister that Santa had not arrived ahead of time he settled + down again to wait, as patiently as he could, for the “grown-ups” to + retire. + </p> + <p> + So he waited and waited. The clock struck ten and then eleven. Georgie + rose, tiptoed to his door and listened. There were no sounds except those + of the storm. Then, still on tiptoe, the boy crept along the hall to the + front stairs, down these stairs and into the living-room. The fire in the + “airtight” stove showed red behind the isinglass panes, and the room was + warm and comfortable. + </p> + <p> + 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 stood + against the wall on the side of the room opposite the windows. There was a + heavy fringe on the sofa which hung almost to the floor. The youngster lay + 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 said there + was a Santa Claus; the boy in South Middleboro had said there was none; + Georgie meant to settle the question for himself this very night. This was + his plan: to hide in that living-room and wait until Santa came—if + he came at all. + </p> + <p> + It was lonely and dark and stuffy under the sofa and the beat of the rain + and the howling gale outside were scary sounds for a youngster no older + than he. But Georgie was plucky and determined beyond his years. He was + tempted to give up and scamper upstairs again, but he fought down the + temptation. If no Santa Claus came then he should know the Leary boy was + right. If he did come then—well then, his only care must be not to + be caught watching. + </p> + <p> + Twelve o'clock struck; Georgie's eyes were closing. He blinked owl-like + under the fringe at the red glow behind the isinglass. His head, pillowed + upon his outstretched arms, felt heavy and drowsy. He must keep awake, he + MUST. So, in order to achieve this result, he began to count the ticks of + the big clock in the corner. One—two—three—and so on up + to twenty-two. He lost count then; his eyes closed, opened, and closed + again. His thoughts drifted away from the clock, drifted to—to . . . + </p> + <p> + His eyes opened again. There was a sound in the room, a strange, new + sound. No, it was not in the room, it was in the dining-room. He heard it + again. Someone in that dining-room was moving cautiously. The door between + the rooms was open and he could hear the sound of careful footsteps. + </p> + <p> + Georgie was frightened, very much frightened. He was seized with a panic + desire to scream and rush up-stairs. He did not scream, but he thrust one + 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, was coming toward + the door. + </p> + <p> + A moment later there was a scratching sound and the living-room was dimly + illumined by the flare of a match. The small and trembling watcher beneath + the sofa shut his eyes in fright. When he opened them the lamp upon the + center table was lighted and Santa Claus himself was standing by the table + peering anxiously about. + </p> + <p> + It was Santa—Georgie made up his mind to that immediately. There was + the pack, the pack which the pictured Santa Claus always carried, to prove + it, although in this instance the pack was but a small and rather dirty + bundle. There were other points of difference between the real Santa and + the pictures; for instance, instead of being clothed entirely in furs, + this one's apparel seemed to be, for the most part, rags, and soaked and + dripping rags at that. But he did wear a fur cap, a mangy one which looked + like a drowned cat, and his beard, though ragged like his garments, was + all that might be desired. Yes, it was Santa Claus who had come, just as + they said he would, although—and Georgie's doubts were so far + justified—he had NOT come down the living-room chimney. + </p> + <p> + Santa was cold, it seemed, for his first move was to go to the stove and + stand by it, shivering and warming his hands. During this operation he + kept looking fearfully about him and, apparently, listening. Then, to + Georgie's chagrin and disappointment, he took up the lamp and tiptoed into + the dining-room again. However, he had not gone for good, for his pack was + still upon the floor where he had dropped it. And a few minutes later he + reappeared, his pockets bulging and in his free hand the remains of half a + ham, which Georgie himself had seen Aunt Thankful put away in the pantry. + </p> + <p> + He replaced the lamp on the table and from his pockets extracted the end + of 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 doughnuts and + cookies. And as he ate he looked and listened, occasionally starting as if + in alarm. + </p> + <p> + At last, when he had eaten everything but the ham bone, he rose to his + feet and turned his attention to the pack upon the floor. This was what + Georgie had been waiting for, and as Santa fumbled with the pack, his back + to the sofa, the boy parted the fringe and peered at him with eager + expectation. + </p> + <p> + The pack, according to every story Georgie had been told, should have been + bulging with presents; but if the latter were there they were under more + old clothes, even worse than those the Christmas saint was wearing. Santa + Claus hurriedly pawed over the upper layer and then took out a little + package wrapped in tissue paper. Untying the string, he exposed a small + pasteboard box and from this box he lifted some cotton and then—a + ring. + </p> + <p> + It was a magnificent ring, so Georgie thought. It had a big green stone in + the center and the rest was gold, or what looked like gold. Santa seemed + to think well of it, too, for he held it to the lamplight and moved it + back and forth, watching the shine of the green stone. Then he 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 himself over the table, + seemed to be writing. + </p> + <p> + It took him a long time and was plainly hard work, for he groaned + occasionally and kept putting the point of the pencil into his mouth. + Georgie's curiosity grew stronger each second. Unconscious of what he was + doing, he parted the fringe still more and thrust out his head for a + better view. The top of his head struck the edge of the sofa with a dull + thump. + </p> + <p> + 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 white as mud + and dirt would permit. + </p> + <p> + “Who—who be YOU?” he demanded in a frightened whisper. + </p> + <p> + Georgie was white and frightened also, but he manfully crept out from + beneath the sofa. + </p> + <p> + “Who be you?” repeated Santa. + </p> + <p> + “I—I'm Georgie,” stammered the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Georgie! Georgie who?” + </p> + <p> + “Georgie Hobbs. The—the boy that lives here.” + </p> + <p> + “Lives—lives HERE?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” It seemed strange that the person reputed to know all the children + in the world did not recognize him at sight. + </p> + <p> + Apparently he did not, however, for after an instant of silent and shaky + inspection he said: + </p> + <p> + “You mean to say you live here—in this house? Who do you live with?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Barnes, her that owns the house.” + </p> + <p> + Santa gasped audibly. “You—you live with HER?” he demanded. “Good + Lord! She—she ain't married again, is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Married! No—no, sir, she ain't married.” + </p> + <p> + “Then—then—See here, boy; what's your name—your whole + name?” + </p> + <p> + “George Ellis Hobbs. I'm Mr. Hobbs's boy, up to South Middleboro, you + know. I'm down here stayin' with Aunt Thankful. She—” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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 + hide and see if you did. Please—” the tears rushed to Georgie's eyes + at the dreadful thought—“please don't be cross and go away without + leaving me anything. I'll never do so again; honest, I won't.” + </p> + <p> + Santa seemed to have heard only the first part of this plea for + forgiveness. He put a hand to his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “They said I was comin'!” he repeated. “They said—WHO said so?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, everybody. Aunt Thankful and Emily and Imogene and Cap'n Bangs and + Mr. Parker and—all of 'em. They knew you was comin' tonight, but I—” + </p> + <p> + “They knew it! Boy, are you crazy?” + </p> + <p> + Georgie shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” Then, as Santa Claus sat staring blankly with open mouth and + fingers plucking nervously at what seemed to be the only button on his + coat, he added, “Please, sir, did you bring the air-gun?” + </p> + <p> + “Hey?” + </p> + <p> + “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 I won't.” + </p> + <p> + Santa Claus picked at the button. + </p> + <p> + “Say, boy,” he asked, slowly. “Who am I?” + </p> + <p> + Georgie was surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Santa Claus,” he replied. “You are Santa Claus, ain't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? San . . . Oh, yes, yes! I'm Santa Claus, that's who I be.” He seemed + relieved, but still anxious. After fidgeting a moment he added, “Well, I + cal'late I'll have to be goin' now.” + </p> + <p> + Georgie turned pale. + </p> + <p> + “But—but where are the presents?” he wailed. “I—I thought you + wasn't goin' to be cross with me. I'm awfully sorry I stayed up to watch + for you. I won't ever do it again. PLEASE don't go away and not leave me + any presents. Please, Mr. Santa Claus!” + </p> + <p> + Santa started. “Sshh!” he commanded in an agonized whisper. “Hush up! + Somebody'll hear. . . . Eh? What's that?” + </p> + <p> + The front stairs creaked ominously. Georgie did not answer; he made a + headlong dive for his hiding-place beneath the sofa. Santa seemed to be + even more alarmed than the youngster. He glanced wildly about the room + and, as another creak came from the stairs, darted into the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + For a minute or more nothing happened. Then the door leading to the front + hall, the door which had been standing ajar, opened cautiously and Mrs. + 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 advanced to the + center table. + </p> + <p> + “Who's here?” she demanded firmly. “Who lit this lamp? Georgie! Georgie + Hobbs, we know you're here somewhere, for we heard you. Show yourself this + instant.” + </p> + <p> + Silence—then Emily seized her cousin's arm and pointed. A small bare + foot protruded from beneath the sofa fringe. Thankful marched to the sofa + and, stooping, grasped the ankle above the foot. + </p> + <p> + “Georgie Hobbs,” she ordered, “come out from under this sofa.” + </p> + <p> + Georgie came, partly of his own volition, partly because of the persuasive + tug at his ankle. + </p> + <p> + “Now, then,” ordered Thankful; “what are you doin' down here? Answer me.” + </p> + <p> + Georgie did not answer. He marked a circle on the floor with his toe. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doin' down here?” repeated Mrs. Barnes. “Did you light that + lamp?” + </p> + <p> + “No'm,” replied Georgie. + </p> + <p> + “Of course he didn't, Auntie,” whispered Emily. “There was someone here + with him. I heard them talking.” + </p> + <p> + “Who did light it?” + </p> + <p> + Georgie marked another circle. “Santa Claus,” he muttered faintly. + </p> + <p> + Thankful stared, first at the boy and then at her cousin. + </p> + <p> + “Mercy on us!” she exclaimed. “The child's gone crazy. Christmas has + struck to his head!” + </p> + <p> + But Emily's fears were not concerning her small brother's sanity. “Hush, + Auntie,” she whispered. “Hush! He was talking to someone. We both heard + another voice. WHO did you say it was, Georgie?” + </p> + <p> + “Santa Claus. Oh, Emmie, please don't be mad. I—I wanted to see him + so—and—and when he came I—I—” + </p> + <p> + “There, there, Georgie; don't cry, dear. We're not cross. You were talking + to someone you thought was Santa. Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “He WAS Santa Claus. He SAID he was. He went away when you came—into + the dinin'-room.” + </p> + <p> + “The dining-room? . . . Auntie, WHAT are you doing? Don't!” + </p> + <p> + But Thankful had seized the lamp and was already at the threshold of the + dining-room. Holding the light aloft she peered into that apartment. + </p> + <p> + “If there's anybody here,” she ordered, “they'd better come out because. . + . . Here! I see you under that table. I—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, gasped, and staggered back. Emily, running to her side, was + just in time to prevent the lamp falling to the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Auntie,” cried the young lady. “Auntie, what IS it?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful did not answer. Her face was white and she moved her hands + helplessly. And there in the doorway of the dining-room appeared Santa + Claus; and if ever Santa Claus looked scared and apprehensive he did at + that moment. + </p> + <p> + Emily stared at him. Mrs. Barnes uttered a groan. Santa Claus smiled + feebly. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Thankful,” he said. “I—I cal'late you're surprised to see + me, ain't you?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful's lips moved. + </p> + <p> + “Are—are you livin' or—or dead?” she gasped. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Howes put the lamp down upon the table. Then she leaned heavily upon + a chair back. + </p> + <p> + “Cousin Jedediah!” she exclaimed. “It can't be—it—Auntie—” + </p> + <p> + But Thankful interrupted. She turned to Georgie. + </p> + <p> + “Is—is THIS your Santa Claus?” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm,” answered Georgie. + </p> + <p> + “Jedediah Cahoon!” cried Thankful. “Jedediah Cahoon!” + </p> + <p> + For Georgie's “Santa Claus” was her brother, the brother who had run away + from her home so long ago to seek his fortune in the Klondike; whose + letter, written in San Francisco and posted in Omaha, had reached her the + month before; whom the police of several cities were looking for at her + behest. + </p> + <p> + “Auntie!” cried Emily again. + </p> + <p> + Thankful shook her head. “Help me to a chair, Emily,” she begged weakly. + “This—this is—my soul and body! Jedediah come alive again!” + </p> + <p> + The returned gold-hunter swallowed several times. + </p> + <p> + “Thankful,” he faltered, “I know you must feel pretty hard agin me, but—but, + you see—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! hush! Don't speak to me for a minute. Let me get my bearin's, for + mercy sakes, if I can. . . . Jedediah—HERE!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—yes, I'm here. I am, honest. I—” + </p> + <p> + “Sshh! You're here now, but—but where have you been all this time? + For a man that is, I presume likely, loaded down with money—I + presume you must be loaded down with it; you remember you'd said you'd + never come back until you was—for that kind of a man I must say you + look pretty down at the heel.” + </p> + <p> + “Thankful—” + </p> + <p> + “Have you worn out your clothes luggin' the money around?” + </p> + <p> + “Auntie, don't. Look at him. Think!” + </p> + <p> + “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've worried + and laid awake nights thinkin' he was dead. Where have you been all this + time? Why haven't you written?” + </p> + <p> + “I did write.” + </p> + <p> + “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 gone + through on account of him and now he comes sneakin' into my house in the + middle of the night, without a word that he was comin', sneakin' in like a + thief and frightenin' us half to death and—” + </p> + <p> + Jedediah interrupted. “Sneakin' in!” he repeated, with a desperate move of + his hands. “I had to sneak in. I was scairt to come in when you was 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'd pity me, 'stead + of pitchin' into me like this. I've been a reg'lar tramp—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 here from New Bedford, and I've + been hidin' out back of the house waitin' for you to go to bed, so's I'd + dare come in.” + </p> + <p> + “So's you'd dare come in! What did you want to come in for if I wa'n't + here?” + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to leave a note for you, that's why. I wanted to leave a note + and—and that.” + </p> + <p> + 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 upon it. + </p> + <p> + “For Thankful, with a larst merry Christmas from brother Jed. I am going + away and if you want me I will be at New Bedford for two weeks, care the + bark Finback.” + </p> + <p> + “'I am goin' away',” repeated Thankful. “Goin' away? Are you goin' away + AGAIN?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I was cal'latin' to. I'm goin' cook on a whaler.” + </p> + <p> + “Cook! You a cook! And,” she took up the ring and stared at it, “for the + land sakes, what's this?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful held the gaudy ring at arm's length and stared at it helplessly. + There was a curious expression on her face, half-way between laughing and + crying. + </p> + <p> + “You bought this—this thing for me,” she repeated. “And did you + think I'd wear it.” + </p> + <p> + “I hoped you would. Oh, Thankful, if you only knew what I've been through. + 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, I guess. And I'm + soaked, soppin' through and—” + </p> + <p> + “There, there. Hush! hush! Jedediah, you're gold-diggin' ain't changed you + much, I guess. You're just as helpless as ever you was. Well, you're here + and I'm grateful for so much. Now you come with me out into the kitchen + and we'll see what can be done about gettin' you dry. Emily, if you'll + just put that child to bed.” + </p> + <p> + But Georgie had something to say. He had listened to this long dialogue + with astonishment and growing dismay. Now the dismay and conviction of a + great disappointment overcame him. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to go to bed,” he wailed. “Ain't he Santa Claus? He SAID he + was Santa Claus. Where are my presents? Where's my air-gun? I want my + presents. Oh—Oh—Oh!” + </p> + <p> + He went out crying. Emily ran to him. + </p> + <p> + “Hush, hush, Georgie, dear,” she begged. “Come upstairs with sister—come. + If you don't you may be here when the real Santa comes and you will + frighten him away. Come with me; that's a good boy. Auntie, I will be down + by and by.” + </p> + <p> + She led the disappointed and still sobbing boy from the room. Thankful + turned to her brother. + </p> + <p> + “Now you march out into that kitchen,” she commanded. “I'll get you warm + first and then I'll see about a bed for you. You'll have to sleep up on + the third floor tonight. After that I'll see about a better room to put + you in.” + </p> + <p> + Jedediah stared at her. + </p> + <p> + “What—what,” he faltered. “Do you mean—Thankful, do you mean + you're goin' to let me stay here for—for good?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course I do. You don't think I'll let you get out of my sight + again, 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 for + sailors' digestions to let you do that.” + </p> + <p> + “Thankful, I—I'll work my hands off for you. I'll—” + </p> + <p> + “All right, all right. Now trot along and warm those hands or you won't + have 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 run away + and leave me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then—then you're glad I came back?” + </p> + <p> + “Glad!” Thankful shook her head with a tearful smile. “Glad!” she + repeated. “I've been workin' heavens and earth to get you back ever since + I got that pitiful letter of yours. You poor thing! You MUST have had a + hard time of it. Well, you can tell me all about it by and by. Now you + march into that kitchen.” + </p> + <p> + Another hour had passed before Mrs. Barnes reentered the living-room. + There, to her astonishment, she found Emily awaiting her. + </p> + <p> + “Why, for goodness sakes!” cried Thankful. “What are you doin' here? I + thought you'd gone to bed long ago.” + </p> + <p> + Emily's reply was given in an odd tone. She did not look at her cousin + when she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she said, quickly. “I—I haven't gone to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “I see you haven't, but why?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't want to. I—I'm not sleepy.” + </p> + <p> + “Not sleepy! At two o'clock in the mornin'? Well,” with a sigh, “I suppose + 'tain't to be wondered at. What's happened this night is enough to keep + anybody awake. I can't believe it even yet. To think of his comin' back + after I've given him up for dead twice over. It's like a story-book.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Up in bed, in one of the attic rooms. If he hasn't got his death of cold + 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?” + </p> + <p> + Emily did not answer. Mrs. Barnes walked across the room and, stooping, + peered into her face. + </p> + <p> + “You're white as a sheet!” she cried, in alarm. “And you're tremblin' all + over. What in the world IS the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Emily tried to smile, but it was a poor attempt. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, nothing, Auntie,” she said. “That is, I—I'm sure it can't + be anything to be afraid of.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are afraid, just the same. What is it? Tell me this minute.” + </p> + <p> + For the first time Emily looked her cousin in the face. + </p> + <p> + “Auntie,” she whispered, “I am—I have been frightened. Something I + heard upstairs frightened me.” + </p> + <p> + “Somethin' you heard upstairs? Where? Has Georgie—” + </p> + <p> + “No, Georgie is asleep in his room. I locked the door. It wasn't Georgie; + it was something else.” + </p> + <p> + “Somethin'—Emily Howes, do you want to scare me to DEATH? What IS + it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what it is. I heard it first when I came out of Georgie's + room a few minutes ago. Then I went down the hall to his door and + listened. Aunt Thankful, he—he is in there talking—talking to + someone.” + </p> + <p> + “He? Talkin'? Who?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Cobb. It was dreadful. He was talking to—to—I don't know + WHAT he was talking to, but it was awful to hear.” + </p> + <p> + “Talkin'? Solomon Cobb was talkin'? In his sleep, do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he wasn't asleep. He was talking to someone, or some THING, in that + room. And that wasn't all. I heard—I heard—Oh, I DID hear it! + I know I did! And yet it couldn't be! It couldn't!” + </p> + <p> + “Emily Howes, if you keep on I'll—WHAT did you hear?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. . . . Aunt Thankful, where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful did not answer. She was on her way to the front hall and the + stairs. Emily rushed after her and would have detained her if she could, + but Thankful would not be detained. Up the stairs they went together and + along the narrow dark hall. At the end of the hall was the door of the + back bedroom, or the larger room adjoining it. The door was closed, but + from beneath it shone lamplight in sharp, yellow streaks. And from behind + it came faintly the sound of a deep groan, the groan of a soul in agony. + </p> + <p> + “He's sick,” whispered Thankful. “The man's sick. I'm goin' to him.” + </p> + <p> + “He isn't sick. It—it's something else. I tell you I heard—” + </p> + <p> + Thankful did not wait to learn what her cousin had heard. She tiptoed down + the hall and Emily followed. The two women crouched beside the closed door + of Mr. Cobb's room. And within that room they heard Solomon's voice, now + rising almost to a shriek, now sinking to a groan, as its owner raved on + and on, talking, pleading, praying. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't—don't, Abner!” cried Mr. Cobb. “Don't, no more! PLEASE + don't! I know what you mean. I know it all. I'm sorry. I know I ain't done + right. But I'll MAKE it right; I swear to the Almighty I will! I know I've + broke my word to you and acted wicked and mean, but I give you my 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! PLEASE quit!” + </p> + <p> + It was dreadful to hear, but this was not the most dreadful. Between the + agonized sentences and whenever the wind lulled, the listeners at the door + heard another sound, a long-drawn gasp and groan, a series of gasps and + groans, as of something fighting for breath, the unmistakable sound of + snoring. + </p> + <p> + Emily grasped her cousin's arm. “Come, come away!” she whispered. “I—I + believe I'm going to faint.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Barnes did not wait to be urged. She put her arm about the young + lady's waist and together they tiptoed back to Thankful's bedroom. There, + Mrs. Barnes's first move was to light the lamp, the second to close and + lock the door. Then the pair sat down, one upon the bed and the other on a + chair, and gazed into each other's pale faces. + </p> + <p> + Emily was the first to speak. + </p> + <p> + “I—I don't believe it!” she declared, shakily. “I KNOW it isn't + real!” + </p> + <p> + “So—so do I.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but we heard it. We both heard it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—well, I give in I—I heard somethin', somethin' that. . . + . My soul! Am I goin' CRAZY to finish off this night with?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. If you are, then I must be going with you. What can it be, + Auntie?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no other door to that room, is there?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what CAN it be?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. Imogene's in her own room; I looked in and saw her when I + 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 with Solomon, + not a livin' soul.” + </p> + <p> + “But we heard—we both heard—” + </p> + <p> + “I know; I know. And I heard somethin' there before. And so did Miss + Timpson. Emily, did—did you hear him call—call it 'Abner'?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” with a shudder. “I heard. Who could help hearing!” + </p> + <p> + “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! I said + once that all the big things in my life had happened durin' a storm and so + they have. Jedediah went away in a storm and he's come back in a storm. + And now if UNCLE ABNER'S comin' back. . . . There I go again! Emily, do + you feel like goin' to bed?” + </p> + <p> + “To BED! After THAT? Auntie, how can you!” + </p> + <p> + “All right, then we'll set up till mornin'. Turn that lamp as high as you + can and we'll set by it and wait for daylight. By that time we may have + some of our sense back again and not behave like two feeble-minded fools. + Turn that wick up—WAY up, Emily Howes! And talk—talk just as + hard as you can—about somethin' or somebody that's ALIVE.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + Emily obeyed orders as far as turning up the wick was concerned, and she + did her best to talk. It was hard work; both she and her cousin found + themselves breaking off a sentence in the middle to listen and draw closer + together as the wild gusts whistled about the windows and the water poured + from the sashes and gurgled upon the sills. Occasionally Thankful went to + the door to look down the dark hall in the direction of Mr. Cobb's room, + or to unlock Georgie's door and peer in to make sure that the boy was safe + and sleeping. + </p> + <p> + From the third of these excursions Mrs. Barnes returned with a bit of + reassuring news. + </p> + <p> + “I went almost there this time,” she whispered. “My conscience has been + tormenting me to think of—of Solomon's bein' alone in there with—with + THAT, and I almost made up my mind to sing out and ask if he was all + right. But I didn't have to, thank goodness. His light's still lit and I + heard him movin' around, so he ain't been scared clean to death, at any + rate. For the rest of it I don't care so much; a good hard scarin' may do + him good. He needs one. If ever a stingy old reprobate needed to have a + warnin' from the hereafter that man does.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear anything—anything else?” whispered Emily, fearfully. + </p> + <p> + “No, I didn't, and I didn't wait for fear I MIGHT hear it. Did I lock the + door when I came in? Emily, I guess you think I'm the silliest old coward + that ever was. I am—and I know it. Tomorrow we'll both be brave + enough, and we'll both KNOW there ain't any spirits here, or anywhere else + this side of the grave; but tonight—well, tonight's different. . . . + Ouch! what was that? There, there! don't mind my jumpin'. I feel as if I'd + been stuffed with springs, like a sofa. Did you ever know a night as long + as this? Won't mornin' EVER come?” + </p> + <p> + At five o'clock, while it was still pitch dark, Thankful announced her + intention of going downstairs. “Might as well be in the kitchen as up + here,” she said, “and I can keep busy till Imogene comes down. And, + besides, we'd better be puttin' Georgie's stockin' and his presents in the + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Emily started. “Why, it is Christmas, isn't it!” she exclaimed. “Between + returned brothers and,” with a little shiver, “ghosts, I forgot entirely.” + </p> + <p> + She kissed her cousin's cheek. + </p> + <p> + “A merry Christmas, Aunt Thankful,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Thankful returned the kiss. “Same to you, dearie, and many of 'em,” she + replied. “Well, here's another Christmas day come to me. A year ago I + didn't think I'd be here. I wonder where I'll be next Christmas. Will I + have a home of my own or will what I've thought was my home belong to Sol + Cobb or Holliday Kendrick?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Auntie, hush! Your home won't be taken from you. It would be too + mean, too dreadful! God won't permit such a thing.” + </p> + <p> + “I sartin' hope he won't, but it seems sometimes as if he permitted some + mighty mean things, 'cordin' to our way of lookin' at 'em. That light's + still burnin',” she added, peering out into the hall. “Well, I suppose I + ought 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 his + whiskers for him I don't know's I'd care. 'Twould serve him right, I + guess.” + </p> + <p> + They rehung Georgie's stocking—bulging and knobby it was now—and + arranged his more bulky presents beneath it on the floor. Then Thankful + went into the kitchen and Emily accompanied her. The morning broke, pale + and gray. The wind had subsided and it no longer rained. With the + returning daylight Emily's courage began to revive. + </p> + <p> + “I can't understand,” she said, “how you and I could have been so childish + last night. We should have insisted on calling to Mr. Cobb and then we + should have found out what it was that frightened him and us. I mean to go + over every inch of those two rooms before dinner time.” + </p> + <p> + 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 is in the + night when that—that snorin' is goin' on. A ghost that snores ought, + by rights, to be one that's asleep, and a sound-asleep ghost ought to be + easy to locate. Oh, yes! I can make fun NOW. I told you I was as brave as + a lion—in the daytime.” + </p> + <p> + It was easy to talk now, and they drifted into a discussion of many + things. Thankful retold the story of her struggle to keep the High Cliff + House 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, intimate interview + between Captain Obed and herself she said not a word. She it was who first + mentioned John Kendrick's name. Emily was at first disinclined to speak of + the young lawyer, but, little by little, as her cousin hinted and + questioned, she said more and more. Thankful learned what she wished to + learn, and it was what she had suspected. She learned something else, too, + something which concerned another citizen of East Wellmouth. + </p> + <p> + “I knew it!” she cried. “I didn't believe 'twas so, and I as much as told + Cap'n Obed 'twasn't this very day—no, yesterday, I mean. When a body + don't go to bed at all the days kind of run into one another.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you know?” asked Emily. “What were you and Captain Obed talking + of that concerned me?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin', nothin', dear. It didn't concern you one bit, and 'twasn't + important. . . . Hi hum!” rising and looking out of the window. “It's + gettin' brighter fast now. Looks as if we might have a pleasant Christmas, + 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 to smother + him.” + </p> + <p> + Her attempt at changing the subject was successful. Emily's next question + concerned Jedediah. + </p> + <p> + “What are you goin' to do with him, Auntie?” she asked. “He must stay + here, mustn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “Course he must. I'll never trust him out of my sight again. He ain't + competent 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 used to + takin' care of somebody all my days. I wonder how 'twould seem to have + somebody take care of me for a change? Not that there's liable to be + anybody doin' it,” she added hastily. + </p> + <p> + “Jedediah might be useful to work about the place here,” said Emily. “You + will always need a hired man, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I don't need two, and I couldn't discharge Kenelm on Imogene's + account. What that girl ever got engaged to that old image for is more'n I + can make out or ever shall.” + </p> + <p> + Emily smiled. “I shouldn't worry about Imogene,” she said. “I think she + knows perfectly well what she is about.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe so, but if she does, then her kind of knowledge is different from + mine. If I was goin' to marry anybody in that family 'twould be Hannah; + she's the most man of the two.” + </p> + <p> + Imogene herself came down a few minutes later. She was much surprised to + find her mistress and Miss Howes dressed and in the kitchen. Also she was + very curious. + </p> + <p> + “Who's that man,” she asked; “the one in the next room to mine, up attic? + Is he a new boarder? He must have come awful late. I heard you and him + talkin' in the middle of the night. Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + When told the story of Jedediah's return she was greatly excited. + </p> + <p> + “Why, it's just like somethin' in a story!” she cried. “Long-lost folks + are always comin' back in stories. And comin' Christmas Eve makes it all + the better. Lordy—There, I ain't said that for weeks and weeks! + Excuse me, Mrs. Thankful. I WON'T say it again. But—but what are we + goin' to do with him? Is he goin' to stay here for good?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful answered that she supposed he was, he had no other place to stay. + </p> + <p> + “Is he rich? He ought to be. Folks in stories always come home rich after + they've run off.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, this one didn't. He missed connections, somehow. Rich! No,” drily, + “he ain't rich.” + </p> + <p> + “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 on our hands without takin' another free boarder.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful went into the dining-room. Emily, when the question was repeated + to her, suggested that, possibly, Jedediah might work about the place, + take care of the live-stock and of the garden, when there was one. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “That isn't settled, so you mustn't speak of it. I know my cousin will be + very sorry to let Kenelm go, largely on your account, Imogene.” + </p> + <p> + “On my account?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes. You and he are engaged to be married and of course you like to + have him here.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Breakfast was ready at last and they were just sitting down to the table—it + had been decided not to call Jedediah or Mr. Cobb—when Georgie + appeared. The boy had crept downstairs, his small head filled with + forebodings; but the sight of the knobby stocking and the heap of presents + sent his fears flying and he burst into the room with a shriek of joy. One + by one the packages were unwrapped and, with each unwrapping, the + youngster's excitement rose. + </p> + <p> + “Gee!” he cried, as he sat in the middle of the heap of toys and brown + paper and looked about him. “Gee! They're all here; everything I wanted—but + that air-gun. I don't care, though. Maybe I'll get that next Christmas. Or + maybe Cap'n Bangs'll give it to me, anyhow. He gives me most anything, if + I tease for it.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful shook her head. “You see, Georgie,” she said, “it pays to be a + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Georgie did not answer immediately. When he did it was in a rather + doubtful tone. + </p> + <p> + “There ain't any soot on 'em, anyhow,” he observed. “And they ain't wet, + either.” + </p> + <p> + Imogene clapped her hand to her mouth and hurried from the room. “You + can't fool that kid much,” she whispered to Emily afterward. “He's the + smartest kid ever I saw. I'll keep out of his way for a while; I don't + want to have to answer his questions.” + </p> + <p> + There were other presents besides those given to Georgie; presents for + Emily from Thankful, and for Thankful from Emily, and for Imogene from + both. There was nothing costly, of course, but no one cared for that. + </p> + <p> + As they were beginning breakfast Jedediah appeared. His garments, which + had been drying by the kitchen stove all night and which Imogene had + deposited in a heap at his bedroom door, were wrinkled, but his face shone + from the vigorous application of soap and water and, as his sister said + afterward, “You could see his complexion without diggin' for it, and that + was somethin'.” + </p> + <p> + His manner was subdued and he was very, very polite and anxious to please, + but his appetite was in good order. Introduced to Imogene he expressed + himself as pleased to meet her. Georgie he greeted with some hesitation; + evidently the memory of his midnight encounter with the boy embarrassed + him. But Georgie, when he learned that the shabby person whom he was told + to call “Uncle Jed” was, although only an imitation Santa Claus, a genuine + gold-hunter and traveler who had seen real Esquimaux and polar bears, + warmed to his new relative immediately. + </p> + <p> + When the meal was over Jedediah made what was, for him, an amazing + suggestion. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” he said, “I cal'late I'd better be gettin' to work, hadn't I? + What'll I do first, Thankful?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Barnes stared at him. “Work?” she repeated. “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean I want to be doin' somethin'—somethin' to help, you know. I + don't cal'late to stay around here and loaf. No, SIR!” + </p> + <p> + Thankful drew a long breath. “All right, Jed,” she said. “You can go out + 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 a spell 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, and if you see anybody comin', + keep out of sight. I don't want anybody to see a brother of mine in THOSE + clothes. Soon's ever I can I'll go up to the village and buy you somethin' + to wear, if it's only an 'ilskin jacket and a pair of overalls. They'll + cover up the rags, anyhow. As you are now, you look like one of Georgie's + picture-puzzles partly put together.” + </p> + <p> + When the eager applicant for employment had gone, under Imogene's + guidance, Emily spoke her mind. + </p> + <p> + “Auntie,” she said, “are you going to make him work—now; after what + he's been through, and on Christmas day, too?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful was still staring after her brother. + </p> + <p> + “Sshh! sshh!” she commanded. “Don't speak to me for a minute; you may wake + me up. Jedediah Cahoon ASKIN' to go to work! All the miracles in Scriptur' + are nothin' to this.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Auntie, he did ask. And do you think he is strong enough?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Emily, hush! You don't know Jedediah. Strong enough! I'm the one + that needs strength, if I'm goin' to have shocks like this one sprung on + me.” + </p> + <p> + Emily said no more, but she noticed that her cousin was wearing the + two-dollar ring, the wanderer's “farewell” gift, so she judged that + brother Jed would not be worked beyond the bounds of moderation. + </p> + <p> + Left alone in the dining-room—Georgie had returned to the + living-room and his presents—the two women looked at each other. + Neither had eaten a breakfast worth mentioning and the same thought was in + the mind of each. + </p> + <p> + “Auntie,” whispered Emily, voicing that thought, “don't you think we ought + to go up and—and see if he is—all right.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful nodded. “Yes,” she said, “I suppose we had. He's alive, I know + that much, for I had Imogene knock on his door just now and he answered. + But I guess maybe we'd better—” + </p> + <p> + She did not finish the sentence for at that moment the subject of the + conversation entered the room. It was Solomon Cobb who entered, but, + except for his clothes, he was a changed man. His truculent arrogance was + gone, he came in slowly and almost as if he were walking in his sleep. His + collar was unbuttoned, his hair had not been combed, and the face between + the thin bunches of whiskers was white and drawn. He did not speak to + either Emily or Thankful, but, dragging one foot after the other, crossed + the room and sat down in a chair by the window. + </p> + <p> + Thankful spoke to him. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sick, Solomon?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cobb shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” he grunted. “No, no, I ain't sick. I guess I ain't; I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “Breakfast is all ready, Mr. Cobb,” suggested Emily. + </p> + <p> + Solomon turned a weary eye in her direction. He looked old, very old. + </p> + <p> + “Breakfast!” he repeated feebly. “Don't talk about breakfast to me! I'll + never eat again in this world.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful pitied him; she could not help it. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, you will,” she said, heartily. “Just try one of those clam + fritters of Imogene's and you'll eat a whole lot. If you don't you'll be + the first one.” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. “Thankful,” he said, slowly, “I—I want to talk to + you. I've got to talk to you—alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Alone! Why, Emily's just the same as one of the family. There's no + secrets between us, Solomon.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care. I wan't to talk to you. It's you I've got to talk to.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful would have protested once more, but Emily put a hand on her arm. + </p> + <p> + “I'll go into the living-room with Georgie, Auntie,” she whispered. “Yes, + I shall.” + </p> + <p> + 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, after a + moment, he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Thankful Cahoon,” he said, calling her by her maiden name. “I—I've + been a bad man. I'm goin' to hell.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful jumped. “Mercy on us!” she cried. “What kind of talk—” + </p> + <p> + “I'm goin' to hell,” repeated Solomon. “When a man does the way I've done + that's where he goes. I'm goin there and I'm goin' pretty soon. I've had + my notice.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful stood up. She was convinced that her visitor had been driven + crazy by his experience in the back bedroom. + </p> + <p> + “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. You told me so, + yourself. How can you set there and say—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cobb waved his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Don't make no difference,” he moaned. “Or, if it does, it only makes it + worse. 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 and I will. Thankful Cahoon, I've been a bad man to you. I swore my + solemn oath as a Christian to one that was my best friend, and I broke it. + </p> + <p> + “Years ago I swore by all that was good and great I'd look out for you and + see that you was comf'table and happy long's you lived. And instead of + that, when I come here last night—LED here, I know now that I was—my + mind was about made up to take your home away from you, if I could. Yes, + sir, I was cal'latin' to foreclose on you and sell this place to Kendrick. + I thought I was mighty smart and was doin' a good stroke of business. No + mortal man could have made me think diff'rent; BUT AN IMMORTAL ONE DID!” + </p> + <p> + He groaned and wiped his forehead. Thankful did not speak; her surprise + and curiosity were too great for speech. + </p> + <p> + “'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 treated me + fine, raised my wages right along, and the like of that. 'Twas him that + put me in the way of investin' my money in them sugar stocks and the rest. + He made me rich, or headed me that way. And when he lost all he had except + this place here and was dyin' aboard the old schooner, he calls me to him + and he says: + </p> + <p> + “'Sol,' he says, 'Sol, I've done consider'ble for you, and you've said you + was grateful. Well, I'm goin' to ask a favor of you. I ain't got a cent 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. If ever the + time comes that she needs money or help I want you to do for her what I'd + do if I was here. If you don't,' he says, risin' on one elbow in the bunk, + 'I'll come back and ha'nt you. Promise on your solemn oath.' And I + promised. And you know how I've kept that promise. And last night he come + back. Yes, sir, he come back!” + </p> + <p> + Still Thankful said nothing. He groaned again and went on: + </p> + <p> + “Last night,” he said, “up in that bedroom, I woke up and, as sure as I'm + settin' here this minute, I heard Cap'n Abner Barnes snorin' just as he + snored afore his death aboard the schooner, T. I. Smalley, in the + stateroom next to mine. I knew it in a minute, but I got up and went all + round my room and the empty one alongside. There was nothin' there, of + course. Nothin' but the snorin'. And I got down on my knees and swore to + set things right this very day. Give me a pen and ink and some paper.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? What?” + </p> + <p> + “Give me a pen and some ink and paper. Don't sit there starin'! Hurry up! + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Auntie?” she whispered, eagerly. “Is it anything important?” + </p> + <p> + Her cousin made an excited gesture. + </p> + <p> + “I—I don't know,” she whispered in reply. “Either he's been driven + looney by what happened last night, or else—or else somethin's goin' + to happen that I don't dast to believe. Emily, you stand right here by the + door. I may want you.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's that pen and things?” queried Solomon from the next room. “Ain't + you ever comin'?” + </p> + <p> + When the writing materials were brought and placed upon the dining-room + table he drew his chair to that table and scrawled a few lines. + </p> + <p> + “Somebody ought to witness this,” he cried, nervously. “Some disinterested + 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 a witness.” + </p> + <p> + Emily, who had entered at the mention of her name, took the paper from his + trembling fingers. She read what was written upon it. + </p> + <p> + “Why—why, Auntie!” she cried, excitedly. “Aunt Thankful, have you + seen this? He—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop your talk!” shouted Solomon. “Can't you women do nothin' BUT talk? + Sign your name alongside of mine as a witness.” + </p> + <p> + Emily took the pen and signed as directed. Mr. Cobb snatched the paper + from her, glanced at it and then handed it to Thankful. + </p> + <p> + “There!” he cried. “That's done, anyhow. I've done so much. Now—now + don't say a word to me for a spell. I—I'm all in; that's what I am, + all in.” + </p> + <p> + 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 of + the fifteen-hundred-dollar mortgage and a receipt in full for the loan + itself, signed by Solomon Cobb. + </p> + <p> + Dimly and uncomprehendingly she heard Emily trying to thank their visitor. + But thanks he would not listen to. + </p> + <p> + “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 and + friendless I'll die. Serve me right. I ain't got a livin' soul of my own + blood in the world.” + </p> + <p> + But Thankful was in a measure herself again. + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk so, Solomon,” she cried. “You have got somebody of your own + blood. I'm a relation of yours, even if 'tis a far-off relation. I—I + don't know how to thank you for this. I—” + </p> + <p> + He interrupted again. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he wailed, “you're my relation. I know it. Think that makes it any + better? Look how I've treated you. No, no; I'm goin' to die and go—” + </p> + <p> + “You're goin' to have breakfast, that's what you're goin' to have. And it + shan't be warmed up fried clams either. Emily, you stay with him. I'm + goin' to the kitchen.” + </p> + <p> + She fled to the kitchen, where, between fits of crying and laughing, which + would have alarmed Imogene had she been there, she tried to prepare a + breakfast which might tempt the repentant money-lender. Emily joined her + after a short interval. + </p> + <p> + “He won't listen to anything,” said the young lady. “He has been + frightened almost to death, that's certain. He is praying now. I came away + and left him praying. Oh, Auntie, isn't it wonderful! Isn't it splendid!” + </p> + <p> + Thankful sighed. “It's so wonderful I can scarcely believe it,” she said. + “To think of his givin' up money—givin' it away of his own accord! 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't take it in the + long run; I'll pay it back soon as ever I can. But should I pretend to + take it now? That's what troubles me.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you should. He is rich and he doesn't need it. What have you + done with that receipt? Put it away somewhere and in a safe place. He is + frightened; that—that something, whatever it was, last night—frightened + him so that he will give away anything now. But, by and by, when his + fright is over he may change his mind. Lock up that paper, Aunt Thankful. + If you don't, I will.” + </p> + <p> + “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 we heard?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, but I mean to find out. I'm a sensible person this morning, + not an idiot, and I intend to lay that ghost.” + </p> + <p> + When they went back into the dining-room they were surprised at what they + saw. Solomon was still sitting by the window, but Georgie was sitting in a + chair beside him, exhibiting the pictures in one of his Christmas books + and apparently on the best of terms with his new acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + “I'm showin' him my 'Swiss Family Robinson,'” said the boy. “Here's where + they built a house in a tree, Mr. Cobb. Emmie told me about their doin' + it.” + </p> + <p> + Solomon groaned. + </p> + <p> + “You better take this child away from me,” he said. “He came to me of his + own accord, but he hadn't ought to stay. A man like me ain't fit to have + children around him.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful had an inspiration. + </p> + <p> + “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 eat your + breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + He was eating, or trying to eat, when someone knocked at the door. Winnie + S. Holt was standing on the step. + </p> + <p> + “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Barnes,” he hailed. “Ain't drowned out after the + gale, be you? Judas priest! Our place is afloat. Dad says he cal'lates + we'll have to build a raft to get to the henhouse on. Here; here's + somethin' Mr. Kendrick sent to you. Wanted me to give it to you, yourself, + and nobody else.” + </p> + <p> + The something was a long envelope with “Mrs. Barnes, Personal,” written + upon it. Thankful read the inscription. + </p> + <p> + “From Mr. Kendrick?” she repeated. “Which Mr. Kendrick?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. John, the young one. Mr. Holliday's comin', though. He telephoned + from 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 drive from + 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?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful slowly tore the end from the envelope. Emily stood at her elbow. + </p> + <p> + “What can it be, Auntie?” she asked, fearfully. + </p> + <p> + “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't + have 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, + after all.” + </p> + <p> + The enclosure was a long, legal-looking document. Thankful unfolded it, + read a few lines and then stopped reading. + </p> + <p> + “Why—why—” she stammered. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Auntie?” pleaded Emily. + </p> + <p> + “It—I can't make out. I MUST be crazy, or—or somebody is. It + looks like—Read it, Emily; read it out loud.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + Captain Obed Bangs rose at his usual hour that Christmas morning, and the + hour was an early one. When he looked from his bedroom window the clouds + were breaking and a glance at his barometer, hung on the wall just beside + that window, showed the glass to be rising and confirmed the promise of a + fair day. He dressed and came downstairs. Hannah Parker came down soon + afterward. The captain wished her a merry Christmas. + </p> + <p> + Miss Parker shook her head; she seemed to be in a pessimistic mood. + </p> + <p> + “I'm much obliged to you, Cap'n Bangs,” she said, “and I'm sure I wish you + the same. But I don't know; don't seem as if I was liable to have many + more merry Christmases in this life. No, merry Christmases ain't for me. + I'm a second fiddle nowadays and I cal'late that's what I'm foreordinated + to be from now on.” + </p> + <p> + The captain didn't understand. + </p> + <p> + “Second fiddle,” he repeated. “What have you got to do with fiddlin', for + goodness' sakes?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin', of course. I don't mean a real fiddle. I mean I shan't never be + my own mistress any more. I've been layin' awake thinkin' about it and + shiverin', 'twas so damp and chilly up in my room. There's a loose shingle + right over a knot hole that's abreast a crack in my bedroom wall, and it + lets in the dampness like a sieve. I've asked Kenelm to fix it MORE times; + but no, all he cares to do is look out for himself and that inmate. If SHE + had a loose shingle he'd fix it quick enough. All I could do this mornin' + was lay to bed there and shiver and pull up the quilt and think and think. + It kept comin' over me more and more.” + </p> + <p> + “The quilt, you mean? That's what you wanted it to do, wasn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Not the quilt. The thought of the lonesome old age that's comin' to me + when Kenelm's married. I've had him to look after for so long. I've been + my own boss, as they say.” + </p> + <p> + She might have added, “And Kenelm's, too,” but Captain Obed added it for + her, in his mind. He laughed. + </p> + <p> + “That's all right, Hannah,” he observed, by way of consolation. “Kenelm + ain'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?” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Don't be silly, Obed Bangs.” + </p> + <p> + “That ain't silliness, that's sense. All you need to do is just h'ist the + 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!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Parker had dropped the plate she was just putting down upon the + table. Fortunately it fell only a few inches and did not break. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by that?” she demanded sharply. + </p> + <p> + “I meant the plate. Little more and you'd have sent it to glory.” + </p> + <p> + “Never you mind the plate. I can look out for my own crockery. 'Twas + cracked anyhow. And I guess you're cracked, too,” she added. “Talkin' + about my—my marryin' Caleb Hammond. What put that in your head?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I just—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, don't be silly. When I marry Caleb Hammond,” she added with + emphasis, “'twill be after THIS.” + </p> + <p> + “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 that + time when you went away together.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Parker turned pale. “When we went—away—TOGETHER!” she + faltered. “WHAT are you talkin' about?” + </p> + <p> + “When you went over to the Cattle Show that time.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that what you meant?” + </p> + <p> + “Sartin. What are you glarin' at me that way for? You ain't been away + together any other time, have you? No, Hannah, that was your chance. You + and Caleb might have been married in the balloon, like the couples we read + about in the papers. Ho! ho! Think of the advertisin' you'd have had! 'A + high church weddin'.' 'Bride and groom up in the air.' Can't you see those + headlines?” + </p> + <p> + Hannah appeared more relieved than annoyed. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” she sniffed. “Well, I should say YOU was up in the air, Obed + Bangs. What's the matter with you this mornin'? Has the rain soaked into + your head? It seems to be softenin' up pretty fast. If you're so set on + somebody gettin' married why don't you get married yourself? You've been + what the minister calls 'unattackted' all your life.” + </p> + <p> + The minister had said “unattached,” but Captain Obed did not offer to + correct the quotation. He joked no more and, during breakfast, was silent + and absent-minded. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast he went out for a walk. The storm had gullied the hills + and flooded the hollows. There were pools of water everywhere, shining + cold and steely in the winter sunshine. The captain remembered the low + ground 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 work + among the poultry later on. He went back to the house to suggest that work + to Mr. Parker himself. + </p> + <p> + Kenelm and his sister were evidently in the midst of a dispute. The former + was seated at the breakfast table and Hannah was standing by the kitchen + door looking at him. + </p> + <p> + “Goin' off to work Christmas Day!” she said, as the captain entered. “I + should think you might stay home with me THAT day, if no other. 'Tain't + the work you're so anxious to get to. It's that precious inmate of yours.” + </p> + <p> + Kenelm's answer was as surprising as it was emphatic. + </p> + <p> + “Darn the inmate!” he shouted. “I wish to thunder I'd never seen her!” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed whistled. Miss Parker staggered, but she recovered promptly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” she said, “that's how you feel, is it? Well, if I felt that way + toward anybody I don't think I'd be plannin' to marry 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “Ugh! What's the use of talkin' rubbish? I've GOT to marry her, ain't I? + 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 home enough + sight.” + </p> + <p> + Hannah put her arms about his neck. “There, there, Kenelm, dearie,” she + said soothingly, “you eat your breakfast like a nice brother. I'LL be good + to you, if nobody else ain't. And I didn't have to sign any paper afore + I'd do it either.” + </p> + <p> + Kenelm grunted ungraciously. + </p> + <p> + “'Twas your fault, anyhow,” he muttered. “If you hadn't bossed me and + driven me into workin' for Thankful Barnes 'twouldn't have happened. I + wouldn't have thought of gettin' engaged to be married.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, dearie. You ain't married yet. Perhaps you won't be. And, + anyhow, you know I'LL never boss you any more.” + </p> + <p> + Kenelm looked at her. There was an odd expression in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You bet you won't!” he said, slowly. “I'll see to that.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Kenelm, what do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't mean nothin'—maybe. Give me some more coffee.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed decided that the present was not the time to suggest a trip + to the High Cliff House. He went out again, to walk along the path and + think over what he had just heard. It was interesting, as showing the + attitude of one of the contracting parties toward the “engagement,” the + announcement of which had been such a staggering finish to the “big day” + of the County Fair. + </p> + <p> + Winnie S. came whistling up the path from the village. + </p> + <p> + “Hi, Cap'n Bangs!” he shouted. “I was just goin' to stop at Hannah's to + tell you somethin'.” + </p> + <p> + “You was, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Yup. Then I was goin' on to the High Cliff. I've got somethin' to take to + Mrs. Thankful. What do you suppose 'tis?” + </p> + <p> + He exhibited the long envelope. + </p> + <p> + “John Kendrick sent it to her,” he said. “I don't know what's in it. And + he wants you to come to his office right off, Cap'n Obed. That's what I + was goin' to tell you. He says not to wait till afternoon, same as he + said, but to come now. It's important, he says.” + </p> + <p> + John was seated at the desk in his office when the captain opened the + door. He bowed gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Take off your hat and coat, Captain,” he said. “Sit down. I'm glad you + got my message and came early. I am expecting the other party at any + moment.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed was puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “The other party?” he repeated. “What other party?” + </p> + <p> + “My—er—well, we'll call him my client. He is on his way here + and I may need you—as a witness.” + </p> + <p> + “Witness? What to?” + </p> + <p> + “You will see. Now, Captain, if you'll excuse me, I have some papers to + arrange. Make yourself as comfortable as you can. I'm sure you won't have + to wait long.” + </p> + <p> + Fifteen minutes later the rasping, arrogant “honk” of a motor horn came + from the road outside. Heavy, important steps sounded upon the office + platform. The door opened and in came Mr. E. Holliday Kendnick. + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed had known of the great man's expected arrival, but he had not + expected it so early in the day. E. Holliday wore a luxurious fur-lined + coat and looked as prosperous and important as ever, but also—so it + seemed to the captain—he looked disturbed and puzzled and angry. + </p> + <p> + The captain rose to his feet and said, “Good morning,” but except for a + nod of recognition, his greeting was unanswered. Mr. Kendrick slammed the + door behind him, stalked across the office, took a letter from his pocket + and threw it down upon his attorney's desk. + </p> + <p> + “What's the meaning of that?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + John was perfectly calm. “Sit down, Mr. Kendrick,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No, I won't sit down. What the devil do you mean by sending me that + thing? You expected me, didn't you? You got my wire saying I was coming.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I got it. Sit down. I have a good deal to say and it may take some + time. Throw off your coat.” + </p> + <p> + E. Holliday threw the fur coat open, but he did not remove it. He jerked a + chair forward and seated himself upon it. + </p> + <p> + “Now what does that thing mean?” he demanded, pointing to the envelope he + had tossed on the desk. + </p> + <p> + John picked up the envelope and opened it. A letter and a bank check fell + out. + </p> + <p> + “I will explain,” he said quietly. “Mr. Kendrick, you know Captain Obed + Bangs, 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 hundred dollars, + the amount of your retainer, which I am returning to you. . . . You + understand this so far, Captain?” + </p> + <p> + E. Holliday did not wait to hear whether the captain understood or not. + His big face flamed red. + </p> + <p> + “But what the devil?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + John held up his hand. + </p> + <p> + “One moment, please,” he said. “Captain Bangs, I want to explain a few + things. As you know, I have been acting as Mr. Kendrick's attorney in the + matter of the property occupied by Mrs. Barnes. He wished me to find a + means of forcing her to sell that property to him. Now, when a person + owning property does not wish to sell, that person cannot be forced into + giving up the property unless it is discovered that the property doesn't + belong to that particular person. That's plain, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + He was speaking to Captain Obed, and the captain answered. + </p> + <p> + “But it does belong to her,” he declared. “Her Uncle Abner Barnes willed + it to her. Course it belongs to her!” + </p> + <p> + “I know. But sometimes there are such things as flaws in a title. That is + to say, somewhere and at some time there has been a transfer of that + property that was illegal. In such a case the property belongs to the + previous holder, no matter in how many instances it has changed hands + since. In the present case it was perfectly plain that Mrs. Barnes thought + she owned that land, having inherited it from her uncle. Therefore she + could not be forced to sell unless it was discovered that there was a flaw + in the title—that she did not own it legally at all. I told my + client—Mr. Kendrick, here—that, and he ordered me to have the + title searched or to search it myself. I have spent a good deal of time at + the recorder's office in Ostable doing that very thing. And I discovered + that there was such a flaw; that Mrs. Barnes did not legally own that land + upon which her house stands. And, as the land was not hers, the house was + not hers either.” + </p> + <p> + Holliday Kendrick struck the desk a thump with his fist. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” he cried. “Good enough! I told 'em I generally got what I wanted! + Now I'll get it this time. Kendrick—” + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” said John. “Captain Obed, you understand me so far?” + </p> + <p> + The captain's outraged feelings burst forth. + </p> + <p> + “I understand it's durn mean business!” he shouted. “I'm ashamed of you, + John Kendrick!” + </p> + <p> + “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 living originally + stood, not where it now stands, but upon land two or three hundred yards + to the north, upon a portion of the property which afterward became the + Colfax estate and which now belongs to Mr. Kendrick here. You know that?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed nodded. “Course I know it,” he said. “Cap'n Abner could have + 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 the strip nigher + this way and moved the old house over. But he DID buy it and he paid cash + for it. I know he did, because—” + </p> + <p> + “All right. I know he bought it and all the particulars of the purchase + perhaps better than you do. A good deal of my time of late has been given + to investigating the history of that second strip of land. Captain Abner + Barnes, Mrs. Barnes' uncle, bought the land upon which he contemplated + moving, and later, did move the house, of Isaiah Holt, Darius Holt's + father, then living. Mr. Holt bought of a man named David Snow, who, in + turn, bought of—” + </p> + <p> + Holliday Kendrick interrupted. “Snow bought of me,” he growled. “Worse + luck! I was a fool to sell, or so I think now; but it was years ago; I had + no idea at that time of coming here to live; and shore land was of no + value then, anyhow. The strip came to me as a part of my father's estate. + I thought myself lucky to get anything for it. But what's all this ancient + history got to do with it now? And what do you mean by sending me this + letter and that check?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll explain. I am trying to explain. The peculiar point comes in just + here. You, Mr. Kendrick, never owned that land.” + </p> + <p> + E. Holliday bounced in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't own it!” he roared. “What nonsense are you talking? The land + belonged to my father, Samuel Kendrick, and I inherited it from him.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you didn't.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you I did. He left everything he had to me.” + </p> + <p> + “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 the + time of his death. Your father, Mr. Kendrick, was in financial straits at + various times during his residence here in Orham and he borrowed a good + deal of money. The most of these were loans, pure and simple, but one at + least wasn't. At one time—needing money badly, I presume—he + sold this strip of land. The purchaser thought it was worth nothing, no + doubt, and never mentioned owning it—at least, until just before he + died. He simply had the deed recorded and forgot it. Everyone else forgot + it, too. But the heirs, or the heir, of that purchaser, I discovered, was + the legal owner of that land.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed uttered an exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “Why, John Kendrick!” he shouted. “Do you mean—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Captain! Mr. Kendrick,” addressing the red-faced and furious + gentleman at his left, “have I made myself clear so far? Do you follow + me?” + </p> + <p> + “Follow you? I don't believe it! I—I—don't believe it! Who was + he? Who did my father sell that land to?” + </p> + <p> + “He sold it to his brother, Bailey Kendrick, and Bailey Kendrick was my + father. 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.” + </p> + <p> + Neither of his hearers spoke immediately. Then E. Holliday sprang to his + feet. + </p> + <p> + “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 why + you sent me back your retainer, was it? So you and I could trade man to + man. All right! I don't believe it yet, but I'll listen to you. What's + your proposition?” + </p> + <p> + John shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said. “You're wrong there. I sent you the retainer because I + wished to be absolutely free to do as I pleased with what was mine. I + couldn'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 own + that land—morally, at least. So, having resigned my employment with + you I—well, I gave the land to the person who, by all that is right + and—and HONEST, should own it. I had the deed made out in her name + and I sent it to her an hour ago.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed had guessed it. Now HE sprang from his chair. + </p> + <p> + “John Kendrick,” he shouted, in huge delight, “you gave that land to + Thankful Barnes. The deed was in that big envelope Winnie S. Holt was + takin' to her this very mornin'!” + </p> + <p> + The happenings of the next few minutes were noisy and profane. E. Holliday + Kendrick was responsible for most of the noise and all of the profanity. + He stormed up and down the office, calling his cousin every + uncomplimentary name that occurred to him, vowing the whole story to be a + lie, and that the land should be his anyway; threatening suit and personal + vengeance. His last words, as he strode to the door, were: + </p> + <p> + “And—and you're the fellow, the poor relation, that I gave my + business to just from kindness! All right! I haven't finished with you + yet.” + </p> + <p> + John's answer was calm, but emphatic. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” he said. “But this you must understand: I consider myself + under no obligation whatever to you, Mr. Kendrick. In the very beginning + of our business relationship you and I had a plain talk. I told you when I + consented to act as your attorney that I did so purely as a matter of + business and that philanthropy and kinship were to have no part in it. And + when you first mentioned your intention of forcing Mrs. Barnes to give up + her home I told you what I thought of that, too.” + </p> + <p> + East Wellmouth's wealthiest summer resident expressed an opinion. + </p> + <p> + “You're a fool!” he snarled. “A d—d impractical fool!” + </p> + <p> + The door slammed behind him. John laughed quietly. + </p> + <p> + “As a judge of character, Captain Bangs,” he observed, “my respected + cousin should rank high.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed's first act after E. Holliday's departure was to rush over, + seize the young man's hand with one of his own, and thump him + enthusiastically upon the back with the other. + </p> + <p> + “I said it!” he crowed. “I knew it! I knew you was all right and square as + a brick all the time, John Kendrick! NOW let me meet some of those folks + that have been talkin' against you! You never did a better day's work in + your life. HE'S down on you, but every decent man in Ostable County'll be + for you through thick and thin after this. Hooray for our side! John, + shake hands with me again.” + </p> + <p> + They shook, heartily. The captain was so excited and jubilant that he was + incoherent. At last, however, he managed to recover sufficiently to ask a + question. + </p> + <p> + “But how did you do it,” he demanded. “How did you get on the track of it? + You must have had some suspicions.” + </p> + <p> + John smiled. His friend's joy evidently pleased him, but he, himself, was + rather sober and not in the least triumphant. + </p> + <p> + “I did have a suspicion, Captain,” he said. “In fact, I had been told that + I had a claim to a piece of land somewhere along the shore here in East + Wellmouth. My father told me years ago, when he was in his last sickness. + He said that he owned a strip of land here, but that it was probably worth + little or nothing. When I came here I intended looking into the matter, + but I did not do so. Where the original deed may be, I don't know even + now. It may be among some of my father's papers, which are stored in New + York. But the record of the transfers I found in Ostable; and that is + sufficient. My claim may not be quite as impregnable as I gave my late + client to understand, but it will be hard to upset. I am the only possible + claimant and I have transferred my claim to Mrs. Barnes. The land belongs + to her now; she can't be dispossessed.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but, John, why didn't you say so sooner? What made you let + everyone think—what they did think?” + </p> + <p> + Before John could reply there came an interruption. The door opened and + Thankful Barnes entered. She paid no attention to Captain Obed, but, + walking straight to the desk, laid upon it the long envelope which Winnie + S. had brought to her house that morning. + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell me,” she asked, sharply, “what that means?” + </p> + <p> + John rose. “Yes,” he said, “I will tell you, Mrs. Barnes. It is a rather + long story. Sit down, please.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful sank into the chair he indicated. He took up the envelope. + </p> + <p> + “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 you stay. + Here is the story, Mrs. Barnes.” + </p> + <p> + He told it briefly, without superfluous words, but so clearly that there + could be no possibility of a misunderstanding. When he began Thankful's + attitude was cold and unbelieving. When he finished she was white and + trembling. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Barnes,” he said, in conclusion, “I'm a peculiar fellow, I'm afraid. + I have rather—well, suppose we call them impractical ideas + concerning the ethics of my profession, duty to a client, and that sort of + thing. I have always been particular in taking a case, but when I have + taken it I have tried to carry it through. I—as you know, I + hesitated before accepting my cousin's retaining fee and the implied + obligation. However, I did accept.” + </p> + <p> + He might have given his reasons for accepting but he did not. He went on. + </p> + <p> + “When this matter of your property came up,” he said, “I at first had no + idea 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 tell you. + I meant to tell you a portion of what I have just told the captain here, + but I—well, I didn't. Mr. Daniels' remarks irritated me and I—well, + he put the case as a test of legal skill between himself and me, and—and + I have my share of pride, I suppose. So I determined to beat him if I + could. It was wrong, as I see it now, and I beg your pardon.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful put a hand to her forehead. + </p> + <p> + “But you did—beat him, didn't you?” she stammered. “You found I + didn't own the land.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I found I owned it myself, legally. If I had found it belonged to + anyone 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 + was the owner made it easy.” + </p> + <p> + She did not understand. “It made it easy,” she repeated slowly. “But you + gave it to ME!” + </p> + <p> + 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 moral honesty. + I've found that out even in my limited practice.” + </p> + <p> + 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—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Please don't. I—I don't see. Mr. Kendrick, you—you have + prided yourself on bein' honest with your clients, and Mr. Holliday + Kendrick WAS your client.” + </p> + <p> + John smiled. “I compromised there,” he answered. “I returned his money and + resigned as his attorney before I sent you the deed. It was a compromise, + I admit, but I had to choose between him and—well, my honor, if you + like; although that sounds theatrical. I chose to be honest with myself—that's + all. The land is yours, Mrs. Barnes.” + </p> + <p> + He handed her the envelope containing the deed. She took it and sat there + turning it over and over in her fingers, not looking at it, but thinking, + or trying to think. + </p> + <p> + “You give it to me,” she said. “It was yours and you give it to me. Why + should you? Do—do you think I can TAKE it from you?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, you must take it.” + </p> + <p> + “But I can't! I can't!” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly you can. Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Why NOT? After the things I've thought about you? And after the way I've + treated you? And—and after Emily—” + </p> + <p> + “She didn't know either,” broke in Captain Obed. “She didn't understand. + She—” + </p> + <p> + “That's enough, Captain,” interrupted John. “Mrs. Barnes, you mustn't + misunderstand me again. Neither you nor—nor Miss Howes must + misunderstand my motives. I give this to you because I honestly believe it + belongs to you, not because I expect anything in return. I—I confess + I did hesitate a little. I feared—I feared she—” + </p> + <p> + “He means Emily,” broke in the irrepressible captain. “You mean Emily, + don't you, John?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” with some embarrassment. “Yes, I do mean Miss Howes. She and I had + been—friends, and I feared she might misinterpret my reasons. It was + not until yesterday afternoon, when I learned of the—of the + engagement, that I felt certain neither you nor she could misunderstand. + Then I felt perfectly free to send you the deed.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed, who had grasped his meaning, would have spoken, but Thankful + spoke first. She, evidently, was quite at sea. + </p> + <p> + “The engagement?” she repeated. “What engagement?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Howes' engagement to Mr. Daniels. They were congratulating him on + his engagement yesterday at the station. I overheard the congratulations. + I had not known of it before.” + </p> + <p> + At last Thankful understood. She looked at the speaker, then at Captain + Obed, and the color rushed to her face. + </p> + <p> + “And even though Emily—Hush, Obed Bangs! you keep still—and + even though you knew Emily was engaged to Heman Daniels, you could still + give me and her—this?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mrs. Barnes, do you think—” + </p> + <p> + “Think! John Kendrick, I think I ought to get down on my knees and beg + your pardon for what I've thought these last two months. But I'm thinkin' + right now and you ain't. Heman Daniels ain't engaged to Emily Howes at + all; he's engaged to that Bayport woman, the one he's been so attentive to + for a year or more. Oh, it's true! Winnie S. told me so just now. The news + had just come to town and he was full of it. Heman's over to Bayport + spendin' Christmas with her this very minute.” + </p> + <p> + Even Captain Obed had not a word to say. He was looking at John Kendrick + and John's face was white. + </p> + <p> + “And I'll tell you somethin' else,” went on Thankful, “somethin' that + Emily herself told me last night. She might have been engaged to Heman + Daniels; he asked her to be. But she wouldn't have him; she told him no.” + </p> + <p> + John stepped from behind the desk. “She—she told him no,” he + repeated. “She . . . Why?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful laughed aloud. “That,” she cried, “I SHAN'T tell you. If you + don't know yourself then I ain't the one to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + Obed was at her side. “That's enough,” he ordered, taking her by the arm. + “That's enough, Thankful Barnes. You come right along with me and fetch + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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 office + was open for a few hours, even though the day was Christmas. + </p> + <p> + “Here!” he whispered, eagerly. “Stand here by the window where we can see + whether he comes out or not.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Obed, what are you doin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Doin'! I'm waitin' to see whether that boy is a permanent fool or just a + temporary one. Wait now; wait and watch.” + </p> + <p> + The wait was but momentary. The door of John Kendrick's office opened and + John himself came out. He shut the door, but he did not wait to lock it. + They saw him cross the road and stride off down the lane toward the shore. + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed laughed aloud. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he cried, exultantly, “'twas only temporary. He's got his senses + now. Thankful, let's you and me go for a walk. We shan't be needed at the + High Cliff House for a spell—and we won't be WANTED there, either.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + The walk was a long one. It took them a good way from the more populous + section of East Wellmouth, over the hills and, at last, along the beach at + the foot of the bluff. It was an odd season of the year for a stroll by + the seaside, but neither Thankful nor the captain cared for that. In fact + it is doubtful if either could have told afterward just where they had + been. There were so many and such wonderful things to tell, to speculate + upon, and to discuss. + </p> + <p> + Thankful told of her brother's return, of Mr. Cobb's miraculous + generosity, and, for the first time, of the ghostly haunting of the little + back bedroom. In the latter story Captain Obed seemed to find much + amusement. He was skeptical. + </p> + <p> + “I've heard of a good many ghosts in my time,” he said, “but I never heard + of one that could stand daylight or common-sense. The idea of your bein' + 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 that bedroom + afore this, I bet you.” + </p> + <p> + “It seemed so silly,” confessed Thankful, “that I was ashamed to tell + anybody. 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 Solomon + heard it all together.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Well, then, let's see WHEN you heard it. Every time 'twas when there + was a storm; rain and wind and the like of that, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I've slept in that room myself a good many times, but never when + there was a gale of wind or rain. That's so; 'twas always in a storm that + it came.” + </p> + <p> + “Um-hum. And it always snored. Ho! ho! that IS funny! A ghost with a + snore. Must have a cold in its head, I cal'late.” + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't laugh if you'd heard it last night. And it didn't snore the + first time. It said 'Oh, Lord,' then.” + </p> + <p> + “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 got there.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And there wasn't another person in that house except Emily and me; I + know that.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if you do know it. . . . Well, I'll have a whack at that room + myself and if a spook starts snorin when I'm there I'll—I'll put a + clothespin on its nose, after I've thanked it for scarin' old Sol into + repentance and decency. It took a spirit to do that. No livin' human could + have worked THAT miracle.” + </p> + <p> + “I agree with you. Well, now I know why he acted the way he did whenever + Uncle Abner's name was mentioned. I have a feelin'—at least I + imagine there may have been somethin' else, somethin' we don't know and + never will know, between Solomon and my uncle. There may be some paper, + some agreement, hid around somewheres that is legally bindin' on the old + sinner. I can't hardly believe just breakin' a promise would make him give + anybody fifteen hundred dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe, but I don't know; he's always been superstitious and a great + feller for Spiritu'list camp-meetin's and so on. And he was always regular + at prayer-meetin'. Sometimes that sort of a swab, knowin' how mean he + actually is, tries to square his meanness with the Almighty by bein' + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm grateful to him, anyhow. And, as for John's kindness, I—I + don't know what to say. Last night I thought this might be the blackest + Christmas ever I had; but now it looks as if it might be one of the + brightest. And it's all so strange, so strange it should have come on + Christmas. It seems as if the Lord had planned it so.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe He did. But it ain't so strange when you come to think of it. Your + brother came home on Christmas Eve because he thought—or I shouldn't + wonder if he did—that you'd be more likely to forgive him and take + him in then. Solomon came over when he did on account of his hearin' that + Holliday Kendrick was comin'. All days, Christmas or any other, are alike + to Sol when there's a dollar to be sighted with a spyglass. And as for + John's givin' you the deed today, I presume likely that was a sort of + Christmas present; probably he meant to give it to you for that. So the + Christmas part ain't so wonderful, after all.” + </p> + <p> + “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 me + that land. I'll make some arrangement to pay him for it, a little at a + time, if no other way.” + </p> + <p> + The captain opened his mouth to protest, but there was an air of finality + in Thankful's tone which caused him to defer the protest until another + time. + </p> + <p> + “Well—well, all right,” he said. “That can be talked about later on. + But how about yourself? I suppose you'll keep right on with the + boardin'-house now?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course.” + </p> + <p> + “It'll be pretty hard work for you alone, won't it? Especially if Emily + and John should take a notion to get married.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well! I'm used to bein' alone. I shan't mind—much. Why! here we + are right at the foot of our path. I've been talkin' so fast I didn't + realize we'd got here already. Do you suppose it's safe to go up to the + house now, Obed?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess so. We can go in the kitchen way and I'll make noise enough to + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Kenelm and Imogene were standing at the kitchen door. When the captain and + Mrs. Barnes drew near they saw that they were in danger of interrupting + what seemed to be a serious conversation. Neither of the parties to that + conversation noticed them until they were close at hand. Imogene had a + slip of paper in her hand. + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed, whose mind was occupied with but one thought just then, + asked a question. + </p> + <p> + “Imogene,” he asked in a loud whisper, “where's Miss Emily?” + </p> + <p> + Imogene started and turned. Kenelm also started. He looked embarrassed. + </p> + <p> + “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 all right, + Mrs. Thankful.” + </p> + <p> + “What's all right?” asked Thankful. + </p> + <p> + “About your brother workin' here in Kenelm's place. He don't mind. You + don't, do you, Kenelm?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Parker, who had been standing upon one foot and pawing like a restless + horse with the other, shifted his position. + </p> + <p> + “No-o,” he drawled. “I—I don't know's I do.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful was disturbed. “I'm sorry you said anything yet awhile, Imogene,” + she said. “My plans about Jedediah are hardly made yet. I do hate to make + you lose your place, Kenelm. If I could see my way clear to keepin' two + men I'd do it, but I declare I can't see it.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all right, ma'am,” said Kenelm. “I ain't partic'lar.” + </p> + <p> + “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's got money, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I know; at least I've heard he had some money. But 'tain't because he + needs 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 other and—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's all right, too,” interrupted Imogene eagerly. “You needn't + worry about our engagement. She needn't worry about that, need she, + Kenelm?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Kenelm shortly. + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed thought it time to repeat his first question. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Miss Emily?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “She's in the livin'-room.” + </p> + <p> + “Is—is anybody with her?” + </p> + <p> + Imogene nodded. “Um-hum,” she said gleefully, “he's there, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” The captain and Thankful spoke in concert. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. John Kendrick. I let him in and I didn't tell her who it was at all. + She didn't know till she went in herself and found him. Then I came right + out and shut the door. Oh,” with another nod, “I've got some sense, even + if I did come from the Orphans' Home.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed and Thankful looked at each other. + </p> + <p> + “Then he did come here,” exclaimed Thankful. + </p> + <p> + “Course he did. I told you he wa'n't quite a fool. Been there some time, + has he?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Shall I tell 'em you've come? I'll knock first.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no.” Thankful's reply was emphatic. “Where's the rest of the folks?” + she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Georgie and Mr. Cahoon—your brother, I mean—have gone up to + the village with the other one, the Cobb man.” + </p> + <p> + “What have they gone to the village for?” + </p> + <p> + “To help Mr. Cobb get his horse and team at Chris Badger's. He's gone, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + “Who's gone?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the Cobb one. He's gone home again. I tried to get him to stay for + dinner; so did Miss Emily. We knew you'd want him to. But he wouldn't + stay. Said he was goin' home. Seemed to me he wanted to get out of the + house quick as ever he could. He gave Georgie a dollar for Christmas.” + </p> + <p> + “WHAT!” Captain Obed leaned against the corner of the house. “A dollar!” + he groaned. “Sol Cobb gave somebody a dollar for Christmas! Don't pinch + me, anybody; I don't want to wake up. Let me enjoy my dream long as I can. + Thankful, did you say Sol looked sick?” + </p> + <p> + “I said he looked pretty nearly sick when he came down this mornin'.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe it. It must have been a mighty serious attack. Did Georgie take + the dollar with him?” + </p> + <p> + “No. He left it with Miss Emily.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a mercy. The outdoor air may make Sol feel more rational and + soon'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.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful looked troubled and annoyed. + </p> + <p> + “I'm awful sorry he went,” she said. “The poor old thing! He was so + miserable 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's + cruisin' up to the village dressed in the rags he was wearin'. He looked + like—like somethin' the cat brought in. And everybody'll want to + know who he is; and when they find he's my brother! And on Christmas Day, + too!” + </p> + <p> + “Imogene!” it was Emily's voice. “Imogene, where are you?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed roared a greeting. + </p> + <p> + “Merry Christmas, all hands,” he shouted. “Hey, you, John Kendrick; are + you there?” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. Thankful did not wait for one; she rushed into the + house. John Kendrick was alone in the living-room when she reached it. + Emily had fled. Thankful looked at Mr. Kendrick and the look gave her the + information she wanted. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Kendrick—John,” she cried. “I shall call you John now; I + can, can't I—where is she?” + </p> + <p> + John smiled. He looked ready to smile at all creation. “I think she is + upstairs,” he said. “At least she ran in that direction when she heard the + captain call.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful started for the hall and the stairs. At the door she turned. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you go away, John,” she ordered. “Don't you dare go away from this + house. You're goin' to have dinner here THIS day, if you never do again.” + </p> + <p> + John, apparently, had no intention of going away. He smiled once more and + walked toward the dining-room. Captain Obed met him at the threshold. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” shouted the captain. “Well? What have you got to say for yourself + now, eh?” + </p> + <p> + John laughed. “Not much, Captain,” he answered, “not much, except that + I've been an idiot.” + </p> + <p> + “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 do + want to know, either,” he added. “I cal'late I know it already. When a + young feller stands around looking as sheepish as if he'd been caught + stealin' hens' eggs and grinnin' at the same time as if he was proud of + it, then—then there's just one thing happened to him. I cal'late + you've found 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 hands + again.” + </p> + <p> + They were still shaking and the captain was crowing like a triumphant + rooster over his friend's good fortune and the humiliation in store for + the “tattle-tales and character-naggers” among his fellow-townsmen when + Imogene appeared. + </p> + <p> + “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 a minute? + I'd like to have you witness somethin'.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed's forehead wrinkled in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Witness somethin'?” he repeated. Then, with a glance at John, who was as + puzzled as he, “Humph! I witnessed somethin' this mornin' and now I'm to + witness somethin' else. I'll begin to be an expert pretty soon, won't I? + Humph! What—well, heave ahead, Imogene. I'll come.” + </p> + <p> + Imogene conducted them to the kitchen door where Mr. Parker still stood, + looking remarkably foolish. Imogene's manner, however, was very + business-like. + </p> + <p> + “Now then,” she said, addressing the two “witnesses,” “you see this piece + of paper. Perhaps you'd better read it first.” + </p> + <p> + She handed the paper to Captain Obed, who looked at it and passed it over + to John. It was the statement, signed by Kenelm, in which he agreed to + marry Imogene whenever she asked him to do so. + </p> + <p> + “You see what 'tis, don't you?” asked Imogene. “Yes. Well, now you watch + and see what I do with it.” + </p> + <p> + She tore the agreement into small pieces. Stepping into the kitchen she + put the pieces in the stove. + </p> + <p> + “There!” she exclaimed, returning to the door. “That ends that. He and I,” + pointing to Kenelm, “ain't engaged any longer, and he don't have to work + here any longer. Is it all plain to both of you?” + </p> + <p> + It was not altogether plain even yet. The expression on the faces of the + witnesses proved that. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Kenelm,” said Imogene cheerfully, “you can leave if you want to. + And,” with a mischievous chuckle, “when you get there you can give your + sister my love, the inmate's love, you know. Lordy! Won't she enjoy + gettin' it!” + </p> + <p> + When Kenelm had gone, which he did immediately and without a word, Imogene + vouchsafed an explanation. + </p> + <p> + “I never did want to marry him,” she said. “When I get ready to marry + anybody it'll be somebody with more get-up-and-git than he's got, I hope. + 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 had to + keep him here somehow, I just HAD to. He was kind of—of mushy and + soft about me first along—I guess guys of his kind are likely to be + about any woman that'll listen to 'em—and when his sister got + jealous and put him up to leavin' I thought up my plan. I got him to ask + me—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 ask me about it or I shan't eat any dinner. But he did sign it and I + knew I had him under my thumb. He's scared of that sister of his, but he's + more scared 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!” + </p> + <p> + She stopped to laugh in gleeful triumph. John laughed too. Captain Obed + scratched his head. + </p> + <p> + “But, hold on there; heave to, Imogene!” he ordered. “I don't seem to get + the whole of this yet. You did agree to marry him. Suppose he'd said you'd + got to marry him, what then?” + </p> + <p> + “He wouldn't. He didn't want to marry me—not after I'd took my time + at bossin' him around a while. And if he had—well, if he had, and + I'd had to 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 about + self-sacrifice and I see my duty plain. I told Miss Emily why I did it + that night when you all came home from the Fair. She understood the whole + thing.” + </p> + <p> + The captain burst into a roar of laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Ho! ho!” he shouted. “Well, Imogene, I said you beat all my goin' to sea, + and you do—you sartin do. Now, I'd like to be on hand and see how + Hannah 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 up + with. Ho! ho! Poor old Kenelm's in for a warm Christmas.” + </p> + <p> + And yet Kenelm's Christmas was not so “warm” after all. He told Hannah of + his broken engagement, wasting no words—which, for him, was very + remarkable—and expressing no regret whatever. Hannah listened, at + first with joy, and then, when Imogene's “love” was conveyed to her, with + growing anger. + </p> + <p> + “The idea!” she cried. “And you bring me over a message like that. From + her—from an Orphans' Home inmate to your own sister! And you let her + walk over you, chuck you out as if you was a wornout doormat she'd wiped + her boots on, and never said a word. Well, I'll say it for you. I'll tell + her what I think of her. And she was cal'latin' to sue YOU for breaches of + promise, was she? Humph! Two can play at that game. I don't know's I + shan't have you sue her.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to. I told you this mornin' I didn't care nothin' about + marryin' her. And you didn't want me to yourself. Now that it's all over + you ought to be happy, I should think. I don't see what you're growlin' + about.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I suppose you don't. You—you,” with withering contempt, “you + haven't got the self-respect of—of a woodtick. I'm—I declare + I'm perfectly prospected with shame at havin' such a brother in my family. + And after cruisin' around with her and takin' her to the Cattle Show—” + </p> + <p> + “You went to the Cattle Show yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care if I did. Now you march yourself upstairs and change your + clothes.” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, now, Hannah. These clothes are good enough.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + Kenelm interrupted, a most unusual thing for him. + </p> + <p> + “S'posin' they knew what I know about you,” he observed. + </p> + <p> + “What? What do you mean by that? What have I done to be ashamed of?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I don't know what you did. I don't even know where you + went. But when a person crawls down a ladder in the middle of the night + and 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 if they knew, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + Hannah's face was a picture, a picture to be studied. For the first time + in her life she was at a loss for words. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't askin' no questions,” went on Kenelm calmly. “I ain't told nobody + and I shan't unless—unless somebody keeps naggin' and makes me mad. + But I shan't change my clothes this day; and I shan't do nothin' else + unless I feel like it, either.” + </p> + <p> + His sister stared at him blankly for a moment. Then she fled from the + room. Kenelm took his pipe from his pocket, filled and lighted it, and + smoked, smiling between puffs at the ceiling. The future looked serene and + rosy—to Kenelm. + </p> + <p> + Christmas dinner at the High Cliff House was a joyful affair, + notwithstanding that the promise of fair weather had come to naught and it + was raining once more. John stayed for that dinner, so did Captain Obed. + The former and Miss Emily said very little and their appetites were not + robust, but they appeared to be very happy indeed. Georgie certainly was + happy and Jedediah's appetite was all that might have been expected of an + appetite fed upon the cheapest of cheap food for days and compelled to go + without any food for others. Thankful was happy, too, or pretended to be, + and Captain Obed laughed and joked with everyone. Yet he seemed to have + something on his mind, and his happiness was not as complete as it might + have been. + </p> + <p> + Everyone helped Imogene wash the dishes; then John and Emily left the + kitchen bound upon some mysterious errand. Captain Obed and Georgie donned + what the captain called “dirty weather rigs” and went out to give George + Washington and Patrick Henry and the poultry their Christmas dinner. + </p> + <p> + The storm had flooded the low land behind the barn. The hen yard was in + the center of a miniature island. The walls of the pigsty which Thankful + had had built rose from a lake. + </p> + <p> + “It's a mercy Pat moved to drier quarters, eh, second mate!” chuckled the + captain. “He'd have had to sleep with a life-preserver on if he stayed + here.” + </p> + <p> + They fed the hens and gave George Washington a liberal measure of oats and + a big forkful of hay. + </p> + <p> + “Don't want him to go hungry Christmas Day,” said Captain Obed. “Now let's + cruise around and see if Patrick Henry is singin' out for liberty or + death.” + </p> + <p> + The pig was not, apparently, “singing out” for anything. When they reached + 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. + </p> + <p> + Georgie laughed. “Hear him,” he said. “He's so fat he always makes that + noise when he's asleep. And he's awful smart. When it's warm and nice + weather he sleeps out here in the sun. When it rains and is cold, same as + now, he always goes way back in there. Hear him! Don't he make a funny + noise.” + </p> + <p> + Emily came hurrying around the corner of the house. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Bangs,” she whispered. “Captain Bangs!” + </p> + <p> + The captain looked at her. He was about to ask why she whispered instead + of speaking aloud, but the expression on her face caused him to change his + question to “What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Emily looked at Georgie before replying. + </p> + <p> + “I—I want to see you,” she answered. “I want you to come with me. + Come quick. Georgie, you must stay in the kitchen with Imogene.” + </p> + <p> + Georgie did not want to stay in the kitchen, but when he found Jedediah + there he was more complacent. The ex-gold seeker and his tales of + adventure had a tremendous fascination for Georgie. + </p> + <p> + Emily led the way toward the front stairs and Captain Obed followed. + </p> + <p> + “What's up?” he whispered. “What's all the mystery about?” + </p> + <p> + “We don't know—yet. But we want you to help us find out. John and I + have been up to look at the haunted room and—and IT'S THERE.” + </p> + <p> + “There! What?” + </p> + <p> + “The—the ghost, or whatever it is. We heard it. Come!” + </p> + <p> + At the door of the rooms which were the scene of Mr. Cobb's recent + supernatural experience and of Miss Timpson's “warning” they found + Thankful and John standing, listening. Thankful looked rather frightened. + John was eager and interested. + </p> + <p> + “You found him, Emily,” he whispered. “Good. Captain, you and I are + commissioned to lay the ghost. And the ghost is in. Listen!” + </p> + <p> + They listened. Above the patter and rattle of the rain on the roof they + heard a sound, the sound which two or three members had heard the previous + night, the sound of snoring. + </p> + <p> + “I should have gone in before,” whispered John, “but they wanted me to + wait for you. Come on, Captain.” + </p> + <p> + They opened the door of the larger room and entered on tiptoe. The snoring + was plainly heard now and it seemed, as they expected, to come from the + little room adjoining. Into that room the party proceeded, the men in the + lead. There was no one there save themselves and nothing out of the + ordinary to be seen. But the snoring kept on, plainer than ever. + </p> + <p> + John looked behind the furniture and under the bed. + </p> + <p> + “It's no use doin' that,” whispered Thankful. “I've done that myself fifty + times.” + </p> + <p> + 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 back of + the house, he stopped and listened more intently than ever. + </p> + <p> + “John,” he whispered eagerly, “come here.” + </p> + <p> + John came. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” whispered the captain. “It's plainer here than anywhere else, + ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Yes, I think it is. But where does it come from?” + </p> + <p> + “Somewhere overhead, seems to me. Give me that chair.” + </p> + <p> + Cautiously and silently he placed the chair close to the wall, stood upon + it, and, with his ear against the wallpaper, moved his head backward and + forward and up and down. Then he stopped moving and reaching up felt along + the wall with his hands. + </p> + <p> + “I've got it,” he whispered. “Here's the place.” + </p> + <p> + His fingers described a circle on the wall. He tapped gently in the middle + of the circle. + </p> + <p> + “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 here + one time or 'nother and the pipe hole was papered over.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but what of it?” whispered Thankful. “I don't care about + stovepipe holes. It's that dreadful noise I want to locate. I hear it now, + just as plain as ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Where could a stovepipe go to from here?” mused the captain. “Not into + the kitchen; the kitchen chimney's way over t'other side. Maybe there was + a chimney here afore the house was moved.” + </p> + <p> + “But the snoring?” faltered Emily. “Don't you hear it?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed put his ear against the covered stovepipe hole. He listened + and as he listened his face took on a new expression, an expression of + sudden suspicion, then of growing certainty, and, a moment later, of huge + amusement. + </p> + <p> + He stepped down from the chair. + </p> + <p> + “Stay right where you are,” he ordered. “Don't move and don't make any + noise. I'll be right back.” + </p> + <p> + He hurried out. They waited. The snoring kept on and on. Suddenly it + ceased. Then, in that very room, or so it seemed, sounded a grunt and a + frightened squeal. And then a voice, a hollow voice which cried: + </p> + <p> + “Ahoy, all hands! I'm the ghost of Nebuchadnezzar's first wife and I want + to know what you folks mean by wakin' me up.” + </p> + <p> + The three in the back bedroom looked at each other. + </p> + <p> + “It's Captain Bangs!” cried Emily. + </p> + <p> + “It's Obed!” exclaimed Thankful. + </p> + <p> + “He's found it,” shouted Kendrick. “Come on.” + </p> + <p> + The captain was not in the kitchen when they got there. He had gone out of + doors, so Imogene said. Unmindful of the rain they rushed out and around + the corner, behind and below the washshed. Patrick Henry was running about + his pen, apparently much disturbed, but Captain Obed was not in sight. + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” demanded Thankful. “Where's he gone to?” + </p> + <p> + “Hello there, John!” cried a voice from the darkness at the rear of the + pigsty under the kitchen. “Come in here. Never mind your clothes. Come + in.” + </p> + <p> + John vaulted over the rail of the pen and disappeared. A few moments later + he came out again in company with the captain. Both were laughing + heartily. + </p> + <p> + “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 first explored + this place that old Laban Eldredge had this pigpen built. Afore that 'twas + all potato cellar, and at one time afore the house was made over there + must have been a stove in that back bedroom. There's no chimney, but + there's cracks between the boards at the back of that pigpen and any noise + down here goes straight up between the walls and out of that stovepipe + hole like a speakin' tube. You heard me when I spoke to you just now, + didn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—yes,” answered Emily. “We heard you, but—but what was it + that snored? What was the ghost?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed burst into a shout of laughter. “There he is,” he said, + pointing. + </p> + <p> + Thankful and Emily looked. + </p> + <p> + “What?” cried the latter. + </p> + <p> + “The PIG?” exclaimed Thankful. + </p> + <p> + “That's what. Georgie gave me a hint when he and I was out here just now. + Old Pat was asleep way in back there and snorin' like a steam engine. And + Georgie said he never slept there unless 'twas a storm, rainin' same as + 'tis now. And every time you heard the—ho! ho!—the ghost, + 'twas on a stormy night. It stormed the night you got here, and when Becky + Timpson had her warnin', and last night when Sol Cobb got his. Ho! ho! ho! + Patrick Henry's the ghost. Well, he's a healthy old spirit.” + </p> + <p> + Emily laughed until the tears came into her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “The pig!” she cried. “Oh, Aunt Thankful! You and I were frightened almost + to death last night—and of that creature there. Oh, dear me!” + </p> + <p> + Thankful laughed, too, but she was not fully convinced. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe 'twas the pig that snored,” she admitted. “And of course whatever + we heard came up that pipe hole. But there was no pig there on that first + night; I didn't buy the pig until long afterwards. And, besides, what I + heard THAT night talked; it said, 'Oh, Lord!' Patrick Henry may be a smart + pig, but he can't talk.” + </p> + <p> + This was something of a staggerer, but the captain was still certain he + was on the right track. + </p> + <p> + “Then somethin' else was there,” he declared. “Somebody was down under the + house here, that's sartin. Who could it have been? Never mind; I'll find + out. We'll clear up the whole of this ghost business, now we've got + started. Maybe we can find some hint in there now. John, go up and fetch a + lantern, there's a good fellow, and we'll have a look.” + </p> + <p> + John brought the lantern and by its light the two men explored the + recesses of Patrick Henry's bed chamber. When they emerged, covered with + dust and cobwebs, the captain held something in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “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 a + mitten, ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + It was a mitten, a much worn one, and on the inside of the wrist-hand were + worked three letters. + </p> + <p> + “K. I. P.” read Captain Obed. “What's 'K. I. P.' stand for?” + </p> + <p> + Imogene, who had joined the group, clapped her hands. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” she cried. “Kenelm Issachar Parker.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful nodded. “That's it,” she agreed. “And—and—why, now I + come to think of it, I remember hearin' Hannah pitchin' into Kenelm that + first mornin' after our night at her house, for losin' his umbrella and a + mitten.” + </p> + <p> + “Right you are!” Captain Obed slapped his knee. “And Kenelm was out + somewheres that night afore he and I came over here. He found his umbrella + and he brought it home whole a week or so later. But it wa'n't whole all + that time, because Seth Ellis told me Kenelm brought an umbrella 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 that night, because + 'twas him that saw your light in the window. I'll bet you he smashed his + new umbrella on the way down from the club and crawled in here out of the + wet to fix it. He couldn't fix it, so he left it here and came back after + it the next day. And 'twas then he dropped this mitten.” + </p> + <p> + Emily offered a suggestion. + </p> + <p> + “You said you saw someone hiding behind the henhouse that next morning, + Captain,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “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 that said, 'Oh, + Lord' that night; I'll bet high on it. When he thought of what Hannah'd + say to his smashin' the umbrella she gave him it's a wonder he didn't say + more than that. That's the answer—the whole answer—and I'll + prove it next time I see Kenelm.” + </p> + <p> + Which, by the way, he did. + </p> + <p> + Later in the afternoon John and Emily walked up to the village together. + They asked Thankful and Captain Obed to accompany them, but the invitation + was declined. However, as John had suddenly remembered that he had left + his office door unlocked, he felt that he should go and Emily went with + him. + </p> + <p> + “I presume likely,” observed the captain, as he looked after them, “that I + ought to feel conscience-struck for not sayin' yes when they asked me to + come along, but somehow I don't. I have a sneakin' feelin' that they'll + get on first-rate without our company, Thankful.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful was silent. She was sitting by the window. The pair were alone + together in the living-room now. Imogene and Jedediah and Georgie were in + the kitchen making molasses candy. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” observed Captain Obed, “that's so, ain't it? Don't you agree with + me?” + </p> + <p> + Still there was no answer and, turning, the captain was surprised to see + his companion wiping her eyes with her handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “For thunder sakes!” he exclaimed, in dismay. “What's happened now? Are + you cryin'?” + </p> + <p> + Thankful tried to smile. “No,” she said. “I'm not cryin'. At least, I + hadn't ought to cry. I ought to be awful happy and I am. Seein' those two + go off together that way made me think that pretty soon they'd be goin' + away for good. And I—I was a little lonesome, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + “Sho! sho! You mustn't be lonesome. They won't get married yet awhile, I + cal'late.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I suppose not. But Emily will have to go next week back to her + school, and she'll take Georgie with her. I'll miss 'em both terribly.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, so you will. But you've got your brother now. He'll be some + company.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But, unless he's changed more than I'm afraid he has, he'll be more + responsibility than comfort. He means well enough, poor Jed, but he ain't + what you'd call a capable person.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Imogene's capable enough, and she'll be here.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Silence for a time. Then Captain Obed spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Thankful,” he said, earnestly, “I know what's worryin' you. It's just + what you said, the responsibility of it all. It's too much for you, the + responsibility of handlin' this big house and a houseful of boarders when + they come. You hadn't ought to do it alone. You ought to have somebody to + help.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I had, but I don't know who 'twill be. I can't afford to hire the + kind of help I need.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you take a partner?” + </p> + <p> + “A partner? Who, for goodness sakes?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—me. I've got some money of my own. I'll go in partners with + you here. . . . Oh, now, now!” he added hastily. “Don't think there's any + charity in this. There ain't at all. As I see it, this boardin' house is + mighty good business and a safe investment. Suppose you and I go in + partners on it, Thankful.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “You're awfully good,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “No, I ain't.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you are. But I couldn't do it, Obed.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “You know why not. For the same reason I couldn't say yes to what you + asked me a while ago. I can't let you help me out of pity.” + </p> + <p> + “Pity!” He turned and stared at her. “Pity!” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, pity. I know you're sorry for me. You said you were. And I know + you'd do anything to help me, even—even—” + </p> + <p> + He interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “Thankful Barnes,” he said, “did you think I asked you what I asked that + time out of PITY?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Obed—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop! Answer me. Did you think such a fool thing as THAT? You stay right + where you are! I want you to look me in the face.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't, Obed! Don't! Let me be. Don't!” + </p> + <p> + He paid not the slightest attention. He was bending over her, his hand + beneath her chin, forcing her to look at him. + </p> + <p> + “Don't, Obed!” she begged. + </p> + <p> + “Thankful, you tell me. Did you think I asked you to marry me just because + I pitied you. Just because I was sorry for you? Did you?” + </p> + <p> + “Obed, please!” + </p> + <p> + “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 I + couldn't have you—just you. I want you, Thankful Barnes, and if + you'll marry me I'll be the happiest critter that walks.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Obed, don't make it so hard for me. You said you wouldn't. And—and + you can't care—really.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't! Do you care for me? That's what I want to know.” + </p> + <p> + “Obed, you and I ain't young folks. We're gettin' on towards old age. What + would folks say if—” + </p> + <p> + He threw his arms about her and literally lifted her from the chair. + </p> + <p> + “I don't care a durn WHAT they say,” he shouted, exultantly. “You've said + what I was waitin' for. Or you've looked it, anyhow. Now then, WHEN shall + we be married? That's the next thing for you to say, my girl.” + </p> + <p> + They sat there in the gathering dusk and talked. The captain was + uproariously gay. He could scarcely keep still, but whistled and drummed + tunes upon the chair arm with his fingers. Thankful was more subdued and + quiet, but she was happy, completely happy at last. + </p> + <p> + “This'll be some boardin'-house, this one of ours,” declared the captain. + “We'll build the addition you wanted and we'll make the city folks sit up + and take notice. And,” with a gleeful chuckle, “we won't have any ghost + snorin' warnin's, either.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful laughed. “No, we won't,” she said. “And yet I'm awfully grateful + to that—that—that pig ghost. If it hadn't been for him that + mortgage would still be hangin' over us. And Solomon would never have been + scared into doin' what he promised Uncle Abner he would do. Perhaps he'll + be a better man, a more generous man to some of his other poor victims + after this. I hope he will.” + </p> + <p> + “So do I, but I have my doubts.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we'll never kill old Patrick Henry, will we? That would be TOO + ungrateful.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Obed slapped his knee. + </p> + <p> + “Kill him!” he repeated: “I should say not! Why, he's your Uncle Abner and + Rebecca Timpson's sister Medora and old Laban Eldredge and I don't know + 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 at him + now. I'd like to shake his hand, if he had one.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Obed, it's rainin'.” + </p> + <p> + “What of it? We don't care for rain. It's goin' to be all sunshine for you + after this, my lady. I'm the weather prophet and I tell you so. God bless + you, Thankful Barnes.” + </p> + <p> + Thankful smiled. + </p> + <p> + “He has blessed me already, Obed,” she said. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Thankful's Inheritance, by Joseph C. 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