The first thing she noticed was that the envelope was in a remarkably crumpled and dirty condition.  It looked as if it had been carried in a pocket—­and a not too clean pocket—­for many days.  Then she noticed the postmark—­“Omaha.”  The address was the last item to claim her attention and, as she stared at the crumpled and crooked hand-writing, she gasped and turned pale.

Slowly she sank back into her chair and tore open the envelope.  The inclosure was a dingy sheet of cheap notepaper covered with a penciled scrawl.  With trembling fingers she unfolded the paper and read what was written there.  Then she leaned back in the chair and put her hand to her forehead.

She was sitting thus when the door of the dining-room opened and a voice hailed:  “Ahoy there!  Anybody on deck?”

She turned to see Captain Obed Bangs’ cheery face peering in at her.

“Hello!” cried the captain, entering the room and tossing his cap on the table.  “You’re here, are you?  I was lookin’ for you and Imogene said she cal’lated you was aboard ship somewheres, but she wa’n’t sartin where.  I’ve come to get that second mate of mine.  I’m goin’ off with a gang to take up the last of my fish weirs and I thought maybe the little shaver’d like to go along.  I need help in bossin’ the fo’mast hands, you see, and he’s some consider’ble of a driver, that second mate is.  Yes sir-ee!  You ought to hear him order ’em to get up anchor.  Ho! ho!  I—­Hey?  Why—­why, what’s the matter?”

Thankful’s face was still pale and she was trembling.

“Nothin’, nothin’, Cap’n Bangs,” she said.  “I’ve had a—­a surprise, that’s all.”

“A surprise!  Yes, you look as if you had.”  Then, noticing the letter in her lap, he added.  “You ain’t had bad news, have you?”

“No.  No, not exactly.  It’s good news.  Yes, in a way it’s good news, but—­but I didn’t expect it and—­and it has shook me up a good deal. . . .  And—­and I don’t know what to do.  Oh, I don’t know what I’d ought to do!”

The distress in her tone was so real that the captain was greatly disturbed.  He made a move as if to come to her side and then, hesitating, remained where he was.

“I—­I’d like to help you, Thank—­er—­Mrs. Barnes,” he faltered, earnestly.  “I like to fust-rate, if—­if I could.  Ain’t there—­is there anything I could do to help?  Course you understand I ain’t nosin’ in on your affairs, but, if you feel like tellin’ me, maybe I—­Look here, ‘tain’t nothin’ to do with that cussed Holliday Kendrick or his meanness, is it?”

Thankful shook her head.  “No,” she said, “it isn’t that.  I’ve been expectin’ that and I’d have been ready for anything he might do—­or try to do.  But I wasn’t expectin’ this.  How could anybody expect it?  I thought he was dead.  I thought sure he must be dead.  Why, it’s six year since he—­and now he’s alive, and he wants—­What shall I do?”

Captain Obed took a step forward.