the matron--not Miss Coffin, but the other one--called me 'Maggie.' I didn't like that, so when Miss Coffin showed up I told her I was Marguerite. But I'd rather be Imogene now, if you ain't particular, ma'am."

"Why--um--well, I don't know's I am; only seems to me I'd settle on one or t'other and stay put. What's your last name?"

"I ain't decided. Montgomery's a kind of nice name and so's St. John, or Wolcott--there used to be a Governor Wolcott, you know. I s'pose, now I'm out workin' for myself, I ought to have a last name. Maybe you can pick one out for me, ma'am."

"Humph! Maybe I can. I've helped pick out first names for babies in my time, but pickin' out a last name for anybody would be somethin' new, I will give in. But I'll try, if you want me to. And you must try to do what I want and to please me. Will you promise me that?"

"Lordy, yes'm!"

"Um! Well, you might begin by tryin' not to say 'Lordy' quite so many times. That would please me, for a start."

"All right'm. I got in the habit of sayin' it, I guess. When I first come to the Home I used to say, 'God sakes,' but the matron didn't like that."

"Mercy on us! I don't wonder. Well--er--Imogene, now I'll show you the house and your room and all. I hope you like 'em."

There was no doubt of the liking. Imogene was delighted with everything. When she was shown the sunny attic bedroom which was to be hers she clapped her hands.

"It's elegant, ma'am," she cried. "Just grand! OH! it's too splendid to believe and yet there ain't any make-believe in it. Lordy! Excuse me, ma'am, I forgot. I won't say it again. I'll wait and see what you say and then I'll say that. And now," briskly, "I guess you think it's time I was gettin' to work. All right, I can work if I ain't got no other accomplishments. I'm all ready to begin."

As a worker she was a distinct success. There was not a lazy bone in her energetic body. She was up and stirring each morning at five o'clock and she evinced an eager willingness to learn that pleased Mrs. Barnes greatly. Her knowledge of cookery was limited, and deadly, but as Thankful had planned to do most of the cooking herself, for the first season at least, this made little difference. Altogether the proprietress of the High Cliff House was growing more and more sure that her female "hired help" was destined to prove a treasure.

"I am real glad you like it here so well, Imogene," she said, at the end of a fortnight. "I was afraid you might be lonesome, down here so far from the city."

Imogene laughed. "Who? Me?" she exclaimed. "I guess not, ma'am. Don't catch me bein' lonesome while there's folks around I care about. I was lonesome enough when I first came to the Home and the kids used to make fun of me. But I ain't lonesome now, with you so kind and nice. No indeedy! I ain't lonesome and I ain't goin' to be. You watch!"

Captain Obed heartily approved of Imogene. Of Kenelm Parker as man-of-all-work his approval was much less enthusiastic. He had been away attending to his fish weirs, when Kenelm was hired, and the bargain was made before he returned. It was Hannah Parker who had recommended her brother for the position. She had coaxed and pleaded and, at last, Thankful had consented to Kenelm's taking the place on trial.

"You'll need a nice, trustworthy man to do chores," said Hannah. "Now Kenelm's honest; there ain't a more honest, conscientious man in East Wellmouth than my brother, if I do say it. Take him in the matter of that umbrella he lost the night you first came, Mrs. Barnes. Take that, for instance. He'd left it or lost it somewheres, he knew that, and the ordinary person would have been satisfied; but not Kenelm. No sir-ee! He hunted and hunted till he found that umbrella and come fetchin' of it home. 'Twas a week afore he did that, but when he did I says, 'Well,' I says, 'you have got more stick-to-it than I thought you had. You--'"

"Where did he find it?" interrupted Thankful.

"Land knows! He didn't seem to know himself--just found it, he said. He acts so sort of upsot and shameful about that umbrella that he and I don't talk about it any more. But it did show that he had a sense of responsibleness, and a good one. Anybody that'll stick to and persecute a hunt for a lost thing the way he done will stick to a job the same way. Don't you think so yourself, Mrs. Barnes?"

Thankful was not convinced, but she yielded. When she told Captain Bangs he laughed and observed: "Yup, well, maybe so. Judgin' by other jobs Kenelm's had he'll stick to this one same as he does to his bed of a Sunday mornin'--lay down on it and go to sleep. However, I presume likely he ought to have the chance. Of course Hannah's idea is plain enough. Long's he's at work over here, she can keep an eye on him. And it's a nice, satisfactory distance from the widow Larkin, too."

So Kenelm came daily to work and did work--some. When he did not he always had a plausible excuse. As a self-excuser he was a shining light.

Thankful had, during the repairs on the house, waited more or less anxiously for developments concerning the mystery of the little back bedroom. Painters and paperhangers had worked in that room as in others, but no reports of strange sounds, or groans, or voices, had come from there. During the week preceding the day of formal opening Thankful herself had spent her nights in that room, but had not heard nor seen anything unusual. She was now pretty thoroughly convinced that the storm had been responsible for the groans and that the rest had been due to her imagination. However, she determined to let that room and the larger one adjoining last of all; she would take no chances with the lodgers, she couldn't afford it.

Among the equipment of the High Cliff House or its outbuildings were a horse, a pig, and a dozen hens and two roosters. Captain Obed bought the horse at Mrs. Barnes' request, a docile animal of a sedate age. A second-hand buggy and a second-hand "open wagon" he also bought. The pig and hens Thankful bought herself in Trumet. She positively would not consent to the pig's occupying the sty beneath the woodshed and adjoining the potato cellar, so a new pen was built in the hollow at the rear of the house. Imogene was tremendously interested in the live-stock. She begged the privilege of naming each animal and fowl. Mrs. Barnes had been encouraging the girl to read literature more substantial than the "Fireside Companion" tales in which she had hitherto delighted, and had, as a beginning, lent her a volume of United States history, one of several discarded schoolbooks which Emily Howes sent at her cousin's request. Imogene was immensely interested in the history. She had just finished the Revolution and the effect of her reading was evident when she announced the names she had selected.

The horse, being the most important of all the livestock, she christened George Washington. The pig was named Patrick Henry. The largest hen was Martha Washington. "As to them two roosters," she explained, "I did think I'd name the big handsome one John Hancock and the littlest one George Three. They didn't like each other, ma'am, that was plain at the start, so I thought they'd ought to be on different sides. But the very first fight they had George pretty near licked the stuffin' out of John, so I've decided to change the names around. That ought to fix it; don't you think so, ma'am?"

On the seventeenth the High Cliff House was formally opened. It was much too early to expect "summer" boarders, but there were three of the permanent variety who had already engaged rooms. Of these the first was Caleb Hammond, an elderly widower, and retired cranberry grower, whose wife had died fifteen years before and who had been "boarding around" in Wellmouth Centre and Trumet ever since. Caleb was fairly well-to-do and although he had the reputation of being somewhat "close" in many matters and "sot" in his ways, he was a respected member of society. He selected a room on the second floor--not a front room, but one on the side looking toward the Colfax estate. The room on the other side, across the hall, was taken by Miss Rebecca Timpson, who had taught the "upstairs" classes in the Wellmouth school ever since she was nineteen, a considerable period of time.

The large front rooms, those overlooking the bluff and the sea, Thankful had intended reserving for guests from the city, but when Mr. Heman Daniels expressed a wish to engage and occupy one of them, that on the left of the hall, she reconsidered and Mr. Daniels obtained his desire. It was hard to refuse a personage like Mr. Daniels anything. He was not an elderly man; neither was he, strictly speaking, a young one. His age was, perhaps, somewhere in the late thirties or early forties and he was East Wellmouth's leading lawyer, in fact its only one.

Heman was a bachelor and rather good-looking. That his bachelorhood was a matter of choice and not necessity was a point upon which all of East Wellmouth agreed. He was a favorite with the ladies, most of them, and, according to common report, there was a rich widow in Bayport who would marry him at a minute's notice if he gave the notice. So far, apparently, he had not given it. He was a "smart" lawyer, everyone said that, and it is probable that he himself would have been the last to deny the accusation. He was dignified and suave and gracious, also persuasive when he chose to be.

He had been boarding with the Holts, but, like the majority of the hotel lodgers and "mealers," was very willing to change. The location of the High Cliff House was, so he informed Thankful, the sole drawback to its availability as a home for him.

"If a bachelor may be said to have a home, Mrs. Barnes," he added, graciously. "However, I am sure even an unfortunate single person like myself may find a real home under your roof. You see, your reputation had preceded you, ma'am. Ha, ha! yes. As I say, the location is the only point which has caused me to hesitate. My-- er--offices are on the Main Road near the postoffice and that is nearly a mile from here. But, we'll waive that point, ma'am. Six dollars a week for the room and seven for meals, you say. Thirteen dollars--an unlucky number: Ha, ha! Suppose we call it twelve and dodge the bad luck, eh? That would seem reasonable, don't you think?"