“Yes, I know.  But it don’t seem as if he could act so to me.  It don’t seem—­”

“Hush!  It is quite evident he can.  Don’t say any more.”

“Well, I won’t.  But what shall I do?  Shall I put it all in Mr. Daniels’ hands?  He says he’ll be glad to help; in fact about everybody thinks he is helpin’, I guess.  Hannah Parker told me—­”

“Don’t, Auntie, don’t.  Put it in Mr. Daniels’ hands, if you think best.  I suppose it is all you can do.  Yes, let Mr. Daniels handle it for you.”

“All right.  I’ll tell him you and I have agreed—­”

“No.  Tell him nothing of the sort.  Don’t bring my name into the matter.”

“But, Emily, you don’t think I ought to sell—­”

“No!  No!  Of course I don’t think so.  If I were you I should fight to the last ditch.  I would never give in—­never!  Oh, Auntie, I feel wicked and mean to leave you now, with all this new trouble; but I must—­I must.  I can’t stay here—­I—­”

“There, there, Emily, dear!  I understand, I guess.  I know how hard it is for you.  And I thought so much of him, too.  I thought he was such a fine young—­”

“Aunt Thankful, are you daring to hint that I—­I—­care in the least for that—­him?  How dare you insinuate such a thing to me?  I—­I despise him!”

“Yes, yes,” hastily.  “Course you do, course you do.  Well, we won’t worry about that, any of it.  Mr. Daniels says there’s nothin’ to worry about anyhow, and I’ll tell him he can do what he thinks ought to be done when it’s necessary.  Now let’s finish up that packin’ of yours, dearie.”

Thankful did not trust herself to accompany her cousin to Wellmouth Centre.  She was finding it hard enough to face the coming separation with outward cheerfulness, and the long ride to the railway station she found to be too great a strain.  So she made the lameness of George Washington’s off fore leg an excuse for keeping that personage in the stable, and it was in Winnie S.’s depot-wagon that Emily journeyed to the Centre.

They said good-by at the front gate.  Emily, too, was trying to appear cheerful, and the parting was hurried.

“Good-by, Auntie,” she said.  “Take care of yourself.  Write often and I will answer, I promise you.  I know you’ll be lonely after I’ve gone, but I have a plan—­a secret.  If I can carry it through you won’t be so lonely, I’m pretty sure.  And don’t worry, will you?  The mortgage is all right and as for the other thing—­well, that will be all right, too.  You won’t worry, will you?”

“No, no; I’ll be too busy to worry.  And you’ll come down for the Christmas vacation?  You will, won’t you?”

“I’ll try . . .  I mean I will if I can arrange it.  Good-by, dear.”

The depot-wagon rattled out of the yard.  Winnie S. pulled up at the gate to shout a bit of news.

“Say, Mrs. Barnes,” he yelled, “we got one of your boarders over to our place now.  John Kendrick’s come there to live.  Lots of folks are down on him ‘count of his heavin’ you over and takin’ up along with Mr. Holliday; but Dad says he don’t care about that so long’s he pays his board reg’lar.  Git dap, Old Hundred!”