“Give it up?”

“Yes, give it up.  Give up this wearin’ yourself out keepin’ boarders and runnin’ this big house.  Why don’t you stop takin’ care of other folks and take care of yourself for a spell?”

“But I can’t.  I can’t take care of myself.  All I have is invested in this place and if I give it up I lose everything.”

“Yes, yes, I know what you mean.  But what I mean is—­is—­”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean—­I mean why don’t you let somebody take care of you?  That’s what I mean.”

Thankful turned to stare at him.

“Somebody—­else—­take care of me?” she repeated.

“Yes—­yes.  Don’t look at me like that.  If you do I can’t say it.  I’m—­I’m havin’ a—­a hard enough time sayin’ it as ’tis.  Thankful Barnes, why—­don’t look at me, I tell you!”

But she still looked at him, and, if a look ever conveyed a meaning, hers did just then.

“I ain’t crazy,” declared Captain Obed.  “I can see you think I am, but I ain’t.  Thankful, I—­Oh, thunderation!  What is the matter with me?  Thankful, let me take care of you, will you?”

Thankful rose to her feet.  “Obed Bangs!” she exclaimed.

“I mean it.  I’ve been meanin’ it more and more ever since I first met you, but I ain’t had the spunk to say it.  Now I’m goin’ to say it if I keel over on the last word.  Thankful, why don’t you marry me?”

Thankful was speechless.  The captain plunged desperately on.

“Will you, Thankful?” he begged.  “I know I’m an old codger, but I ain’t in my second childhood, not yet.  I—­I’d try mighty hard to make you happy.  I haven’t got anybody of my own in the world.  Neither have you—­except this brother of yours, and, judgin’ from his letter and what you say, he won’t take any care; he’ll be a care, that’s all.  I ain’t rich, but I’ve got money enough to help you—­and him—­and me afloat and comf’table.  Thankful, will you?”

Thankful was still looking at him.  He would have spoken again, but she raised her hand and motioned him to silence.

“Obed,” she asked, after a moment, “what made you say this to me?”

“What made me say it?  What kept me still so long, you ought to ask.  Haven’t I come to think more and more of you ever since I knew you?  Haven’t I been more and more sorry for you?  And pitied you?  I—­”

She raised her hand again.  “I see,” she said, slowly.  “I see.  Thank you, Obed.  You’re so kind and self-sacrificin’ you’d do anything or say anything to help a—­friend, wouldn’t you?  But of course you can’t do this.”

“Can’t?  Why can’t I?  Self-sacrifice be hanged!  Thankful, can’t you see—­”

“Yes.  Oh yes.  I can see. . . .  Now let’s talk about Jedediah.  Do you think—­”

“Jedediah be keelhauled!  Will you marry me, Thankful Barnes?”

“Why no, Obed; of course I won’t.”

“You won’t?  Why not?”