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:

"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."

That first dinner was a bountiful meal. Miss Parker expressed the
general opinion, although it was expressed in her own way, when she
said:

"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."

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.

"There!" said Thankful to Imogene that night. "We've started anyhow. And
'twas a good start if I do say it."

"Good!" exclaimed Imogene. "I should say 'twas good! But if 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?"

"I mean to, of course," declared Mrs. Barnes. "Nobody shall starve at my
table. And please, Imogene, don't call people ginks and guy