ut 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.

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.

CHAPTER VI

"Takin' other folks' advice about your own affairs," began Cap'n Obed,
"is like a feller readin' patent medicine circulars to find somethin'
to cure a cold. Afore he gets through his symptoms have developed into
bronchitis and pneumony, with gallopin' consumption dead ahead. You
never can tell what'll happen.

"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 Ken