"Solomon, are you goin' to renew that mortgage when it comes due?"

Mr. Cobb pulled his whiskers. "I don't know's I am and I don't know's 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?"

"You wouldn't do it! You couldn't be so--"

"So what? Business is business and if he's goin' to put you out anyhow, I don't see why I shouldn't get my share of the pickin's."

"But he ain't goin' to put me out."

"He says he is. Now--now--clear out and don't bother me. When 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?"

There was a good deal more of this sort of thing, but it was all quite as unsatisfactory. Thankful gave it up at last.

"I shan't come here again," she declared desperately. "If you want to see me you can come to my place."

"Humph!"

"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."

She was on her way to the door, but Solomon called after her.

"Here!" he shouted. "Hold on! What do you mean by that? Why shouldn't I go into that house if I want to? Why shouldn't I?"

"I don't know; all I know is that you don't seem to want to. I can't say why you don't want to, but--"

"But what?"

"But, maybe, if someone that's dead and gone was here--he could."

"He--he--who? What? Hi! Where you goin'?"

"I'm goin' home."

"No, you ain't--not until you tell me what you mean by--by somebody that's dead and gone. What kind of talk is that? What do you mean?"

"Maybe I don't know what I mean, Solomon; but I think you do. If you don't then your looks belie you, that's all."

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.

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 antic.i.p.ations 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."

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.

"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?"

"'Deed you have. I wouldn't ask for a better one."

"Then why won't Santa bring me the gun?"

"Perhaps he'll think a gun isn't nice for such a little boy to have."

"But it is nice. It's nicer'n anything. If I'm good and I want it I don't see why I can't have it. I think Santa's mean if he don't bring it."

"Oh no, he isn't mean. Just think how good he is! He comes to every boy and girl--"

"No, he don't."

"Why yes, he does. To every good little boy and girl."

"He never came to Patsy Leary that lived up on the lots in Middleboro.

Patsy said he didn't; he said there wasn't any Santa Claus, Patsy did."

"Hum! Perhaps Patsy wasn't good."

"Gee! Yes, he was. He can play baseball better'n any boy I know. And he can lick any kid his size; he told me he could."

This crushing proof of young Leary's goodness was a staggerer for Thankful. Before she could think of a reply Georgie asked another question.

"You say he'll come down the chimney?" he queried.

"Yes."

"The livin'-room chimney?"

"Yes, probably."

"No, he won't."

"Georgie!"

"How can he? He's so fat; he's ever so fat in the pictures. How can he get through the stovepipe?"

Mrs. Barnes' answer was evasive and Georgie noticed the evasion.

However, his trust in his Aunt Thankful was absolute and if she 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.

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.

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.

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.

"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.

"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.