“I am real glad you like it here so well, Imogene,” she said, at the end of a fortnight.  “I was afraid you might be lonesome, down here so far from the city.”

Imogene laughed.  “Who?  Me?” she exclaimed.  “I guess not, ma’am.  Don’t catch me bein’ lonesome while there’s folks around I care about.  I was lonesome enough when I first came to the Home and the kids used to make fun of me.  But I ain’t lonesome now, with you so kind and nice.  No indeedy!  I ain’t lonesome and I ain’t goin’ to be.  You watch!”

Captain Obed heartily approved of Imogene.  Of Kenelm Parker as man-of-all-work his approval was much less enthusiastic.  He had been away attending to his fish weirs, when Kenelm was hired, and the bargain was made before he returned.  It was Hannah Parker who had recommended her brother for the position.  She had coaxed and pleaded and, at last, Thankful had consented to Kenelm’s taking the place on trial.

“You’ll need a nice, trustworthy man to do chores,” said Hannah.  “Now Kenelm’s honest; there ain’t a more honest, conscientious man in East Wellmouth than my brother, if I do say it.  Take him in the matter of that umbrella he lost the night you first came, Mrs. Barnes.  Take that, for instance.  He’d left it or lost it somewheres, he knew that, and the ordinary person would have been satisfied; but not Kenelm.  No sir-ee!  He hunted and hunted till he found that umbrella and come fetchin’ of it home.  ’Twas a week afore he did that, but when he did I says, ‘Well,’ I says, ‘you have got more stick-to-it than I thought you had.  You—­’”

“Where did he find it?” interrupted Thankful.

“Land knows!  He didn’t seem to know himself—­just found it, he said.  He acts so sort of upsot and shameful about that umbrella that he and I don’t talk about it any more.  But it did show that he had a sense of responsibleness, and a good one.  Anybody that’ll stick to and persecute a hunt for a lost thing the way he done will stick to a job the same way.  Don’t you think so yourself, Mrs. Barnes?”

Thankful was not convinced, but she yielded.  When she told Captain Bangs he laughed and observed:  “Yup, well, maybe so.  Judgin’ by other jobs Kenelm’s had he’ll stick to this one same as he does to his bed of a Sunday mornin’—­lay down on it and go to sleep.  However, I presume likely he ought to have the chance.  Of course Hannah’s idea is plain enough.  Long’s he’s at work over here, she can keep an eye on him.  And it’s a nice, satisfactory distance from the widow Larkin, too.”

So Kenelm came daily to work and did work—­some.  When he did not he always had a plausible excuse.  As a self-excuser he was a shining light.