Imogene nodded emphatically."She needs two of them," she declared."One to manage the place and another to keep that Parker man workin'.He can eat more and talk more and work less than any guy ever I see.Why, he'd spend half his time in this kitchen gassin' with me, if I'd let him.But you bet I don't let him."The captain thought more and more during the days that followed.
At length he wrote a letter to Emily Howes at South Middleboro.In it he expressed his fear that Mrs.Barnes, although in all other respects perfect, was a too generous "provider" to be a success as a boarding-house keeper in East Wellmouth.
She'll have boarders enough, you needn't worry about that, [he wrote] but she'll lose money on every one.I've tried to hint, but she don't take the hint, and it ain't any of my affair, rightly speaking, so I can't speak out plain.Can't you write her a sort of warning afore it's too late? Or better still, can't you come down here and talk to her? I wish you would.Excuse my nosing in and writing you this way, please.I'm doing it just because I want to see her win out in the race, that's all.I wish you'd answer this pretty prompt, if you don't mind.
But the reply he hoped for did not come and he began to fear that he had made a bad matter worse by writing.Doubtless Miss Howes resented his "nosing in."Thankful now began advertising in the Boston papers.And the answers to the ads began to arrive.Sometimes men and women from the city came down to inspect the High Cliff House, preparatory to opening negotiations for summer quarters.They inspected the house itself, interviewed Thankful, strolled along the bluff admiring the view, and sampled a meal.Then, almost without exception, they agreed upon terms and selected rooms.That the house would be full from top to bottom by the first of July was now certain.But, as Imogene said to Captain Bangs, "If we lose five dollars a week on everyone of 'em that ain't nothin' to hurrah about, seems to me."The captain had not piloted any new boarders to the High Cliff.
Perhaps he thought, under the circumstances, this would be a doubtful kindness.But the time came when he did bring one there.
And the happenings leading to that result were these:
It was a day in the first week in June and Captain Obed, having business in Wellmouth Centre, had hired George Washington, Mrs.
Barnes' horse, and the buggy and driven there.The business done he left the placid George moored to a hitching-post by the postoffice and strolled over to the railway station to watch the noon train come in.
The train was, of course, late, but not very late in this instance, and the few passengers alighted on the station platform.The captain, seated on the baggage-truck, noticed one of these passengers in particular.He was a young fellow, smooth-faced and tall, and as, suitcase in hand, he swung from the last car and strode up the platform it seemed to Captain Obed as if there was something oddly familiar in that stride and the set of his square shoulders.His face, too, seemed familiar.The captain felt as if he should recognize him--but he did not.
He came swinging on until he was opposite the baggage-truck.Then he stopped and looked searchingly at the bulky form of the man seated upon it.He stepped closer and looked again.Then, with a twinkle in his quiet gray eye, he did a most amazing thing--he began to sing.To sing--not loudly, of course, but rather under his breath.And this is what he sang:
"Said all the little fishes that swim there below:
'It's the Liverpool packet! Good Lord, let her go!'"To the average person this would have sounded like the wildest insanity.But not to Captain Obed Bangs of East Wellmouth.The captain sprang from the truck and held out his hand.
"Johnnie Kendrick!" he shouted."It's Johnnie Kendrick, I do believe! Well, I swan to man!"The young man laughed, and, seizing the captain's hand, shook it heartily.
"I am glad you do," he said."If you hadn't swanned to man Ishould have been afraid there was more change in Captain Obed Bangs than I cared to see.Captain Obed, how are you?"Captain Obed shook his head."I--I--" he stammered."Well, Ical'late my timbers are fairly strong if they can stand a shock like this.Johnnie Kendrick, of all folks in the world!""The very same, Captain."
"And you knew me right off! Well done for you, John! Why, it's all of twenty odd year since you used to set on a nail keg in my boathouse and tease me into singing the Dreadnought chanty.Iremember that.Good land! I ought to remember the only critter on earth that ever ASKED me to sing.Ho! ho! but you was a little towheaded shaver then; and now look at you! What are you doin'
away down here?"
John Kendrick shook his head."I don't know that I'm quite sure myself, Captain," he said."I have some suspicions, of course, but they may not be confirmed.First of all I'm going over to East Wellmouth; so just excuse me a minute while I speak to the driver of the bus."He was hurrying away, but his companion caught his arm.
"Heave to, John!" he ordered."I've got a horse and a buggy here myself, such as they are, and unless you're dead sot on bookin'
passage in Winnie S.'s--what did you call it?--bust--I'd be mighty glad to have you make the trip along with me.No, no.'Twon't be any trouble.Come on!"Five minutes later they were seated in the buggy and George Washington was jogging with dignified deliberation along the road toward East Wellmouth.
"And why," demanded Captain Obed, "have you come to Wellmouth again, after all these years?"Mr.Kendrick smiled.
"Well, Captain Bangs," he said, "it is barely possible that I've come here to stay.""To stay! You don't mean to stay for good?""Well, that, too, is possible.Being more or less optimistic, we'll hope that if I do stay it will be for good.I'm thinking of living here."His companion turned around on the seat to stare at him.
"Livin' here!" he repeated."You? What on earth--? What are you goin' to do?"The passenger's eyes twinkled, but his tone was solemn enough.
