He groaned and wiped his forehead.  Thankful did not speak; her surprise and curiosity were too great for speech.

“‘Twas your Uncle Abner Barnes,” went on Solomon, “that was the makin’ of me.  I sailed fust mate for him fourteen year.  And he always treated me fine, raised my wages right along, and the like of that.  ’Twas him that put me in the way of investin’ my money in them sugar stocks and the rest.  He made me rich, or headed me that way.  And when he lost all he had except this place here and was dyin’ aboard the old schooner, he calls me to him and he says: 

“‘Sol,’ he says, ’Sol, I’ve done consider’ble for you, and you’ve said you was grateful.  Well, I’m goin’ to ask a favor of you.  I ain’t got a cent of my own left, and my niece by marriage, Thankful Cahoon that was, that I love same as if she was my own child, may, sometime or other, be pretty hard put to it to get along.  I want you to look after her.  If ever the time comes that she needs money or help I want you to do for her what I’d do if I was here.  If you don’t,’ he says, risin’ on one elbow in the bunk, ’I’ll come back and ha’nt you.  Promise on your solemn oath.’  And I promised.  And you know how I’ve kept that promise.  And last night he come back.  Yes, sir, he come back!”

Still Thankful said nothing.  He groaned again and went on: 

“Last night,” he said, “up in that bedroom, I woke up and, as sure as I’m settin’ here this minute, I heard Cap’n Abner Barnes snorin’ just as he snored afore his death aboard the schooner, T. I. Smalley, in the stateroom next to mine.  I knew it in a minute, but I got up and went all round my room and the empty one alongside.  There was nothin’ there, of course.  Nothin’ but the snorin’.  And I got down on my knees and swore to set things right this very day.  Give me a pen and ink and some paper.”

“Eh?  What?”

“Give me a pen and some ink and paper.  Don’t sit there starin’!  Hurry up!  Can’t you see I want to get this thing off my chest afore I die!  And—­and I—­I wouldn’t be surprised if I died any minute.  Hurry up!”

Thankful went into the living-room in search of the writing materials.  Emily, who was sitting on the floor with Georgie and the presents, turned to ask a question.

“What is it, Auntie?” she whispered, eagerly.  “Is it anything important?”

Her cousin made an excited gesture.

“I—­I don’t know,” she whispered in reply.  “Either he’s been driven looney by what happened last night, or else—­or else somethin’s goin’ to happen that I don’t dast to believe.  Emily, you stand right here by the door.  I may want you.”

“Where’s that pen and things?” queried Solomon from the next room.  “Ain’t you ever comin’?”

When the writing materials were brought and placed upon the dining-room table he drew his chair to that table and scrawled a few lines.

“Somebody ought to witness this,” he cried, nervously.  “Some disinterested person ought to witness this.  Then ’twill hold in law.  Where’s that—­that Howes girl?  Oh, here you be!  Here! you sign that as a witness.”