ask a question.

"What is it, Auntie?" she whispered, eagerly. "Is it anything
important?"

Her cousin made an excited gesture.

"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."

"Where's that pen and things?" queried Solomon from the next room.
"Ain't you ever comin'?"

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.

"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."

Emily, who had entered at the mention of her name, took the paper from
his trembling fingers. She read what was written upon it.

"Why--why, Auntie!" she cried, excitedly. "Aunt Thankful, have you seen
this? He--"

"Stop your talk!" shouted Solomon. "Can't you women do nothin' BUT talk?
Sign your name alongside of mine as a witness."

Emily took the pen and signed as directed. Mr. Cobb snatched the paper
from her, glanced at it and then handed it to Thankful.

"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."

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.

Dimly and uncomprehendingly she heard Emily trying to thank their
visitor. But thanks he would not listen to.

"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."

But Thankful was in a measure herself again.

"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--"

He interrupted again.

"Yes," he wailed, "you're my relation. I know it. Think that makes it
any better? Look how I've tr