"Mr. Hammond!" she called. "Mr. Hammond!"

Caleb awoke with a start.

"Eh?" he said.

"Are you up? It's most breakfast time."

Caleb, now more thoroughly awake, looked about his room. It was real; he was actually in it--and safe--and still single.

"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?"

"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."

"No, no; I ain't sick. I'm feelin' fine. Has--has Kenelm Parker got here yet?"

"Yes, he's here."

"Ain't--ain't said nothin', has he?"

"Said anything? No. What do you mean? What did you expect him to say?"

"Nothin', nothin', I--I wondered what sort of a drive he and Imogene 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."

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.

Thankful knocked at his door again.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but Melindy Pease hasn't sent home your mendin'

yet. I'm afraid you'll have to do without your--er--your winter things for one more day."

"Hey? My winter--Oh, yes, yes. Well, I don't care. It's warmer today than 'twas yesterday."

"Oh no, it isn't; it's a good deal colder. I hope you won't catch cold."

"No, no, I shan't. I'm feelin' fine."

"Well, thank goodness for that."

"Thank goodness for a good many things," said Mr. Hammond, devoutly.

CHAPTER XIII

If Kenelm noticed that George Washington seemed unusually tired 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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."

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 a.s.sumed.

He and Mrs. Barnes avoided discussion of John Kendrick and his affairs.

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.

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.

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.

She was sitting thus when the door of the dining-room opened and a voice hailed: "Ahoy there! Anybody on deck?"

She turned to see Captain Obed Bangs' cheery face peering in at her.

"h.e.l.lo!" 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?"

Thankful's face was still pale and she was trembling.

"Nothin', nothin', Cap'n Bangs," she said. "I've had a--a surprise, that's all."

"A surprise! Yes, you look as if you had." Then, noticing the letter in her lap, he added. "You ain't had bad news, have you?"

"No. No, not exactly. It's good news. Yes, in a way it's good news, but--but I didn't expect it and--and it has shook me up a good deal.

. . . And--and I don't know what to do. Oh, I don't know WHAT I'd ought to do!"

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.