just see, Mrs. Thankful—­you see if Hannah ain’t sweeter to Kenelm from this on than a molasses jug stopper to a young one.  She’ll lay herself out to make his home the softest spot in creation, so he’ll think twice before leavin’ it.  That’s her game, as I see it, and she’ll play it.  Give Hannah credit; she won’t abandon the ship while there’s a plank above water.  Just watch and see.”

Thankful looked doubtful.  “Well, maybe so,” she said.  “Maybe she will be nice to her brother, but how about the rest of us?  She wouldn’t speak to me last night, nor to Emily—­and as for Imogene!”

“Yes, I know.  But wait until she sees you, or Imogene either, next time.  She’ll be smooth as a smelt.  I’ll bet you anything she’ll say that, after all, she guesses the engagement’s a good thing and that Imogene’s a nice girl.  There’s a whole lot in keepin’ the feller you’re fightin’ off his guard until you’ve got him in a corner with his hands down.  Last night Hannah give me my orders to mind my own business.  This mornin’ she cooked me the best breakfast I’ve had since I shipped aboard her vessel.  And kept askin’ me to have more.  No, Imogene’s right; Hannah’ll play the game, and she’ll play it quiet.  As for tellin’ anybody her brother’s engaged, you needn’t worry about that.  She’ll be the last one to tell.”

This prophecy seemed likely to prove true.  The next time Thankful met Hannah the latter greeted her like a long-lost friend.  During a long conversation she mentioned the subject of her brother’s engagement but once and then at the very end of the interview.

“Oh, by the way, Mrs. Thankful,” she said, “I do beg your pardon for carryin’ on the way I did at your house t’other night.  The news was pitched out at me so sudden that I was blowed right off my feet, as you might say.  I acted real unlikely, I know; but, you see, Kenelm does mean so much to me that I couldn’t bear to think of givin’ him up to anybody else.  When I come to think it over I realized ’twa’n’t no more’n I had ought to have expected.  I mustn’t be selfish and I ain’t goin’ to be.  S’long’s ’tain’t that—­that Jezebel of an Abbie Larkin I don’t mind so much.  I couldn’t stand havin’ her in the family—­that I couldn’t stand.  Oh, and if you don’t mind, Mrs. Thankful, just don’t say nothin’ about the engagin’ yet awhile.  I shouldn’t mind, of course, but Kenelm, he’s set on keepin’ it secret for a spell.  There!  I must run on.  I’ve got to go up to the store and get a can of that consecrated soup for supper.  Have you tried them soups?  They’re awful cheap and handy.  You just pour in hot water and there’s more’n enough for a meal.  Good-by.”

Imogene, when she returned from the Fair, announced that she had had a perfectly lovely time.

“He ain’t such bad company—­Kenelm, I mean,” she observed.  “He talks a lot, but you don’t have to listen unless you want to; and he enjoys himself real well, considerin’ how little practice he’s had.”