The large front rooms, those overlooking the bluff and the sea, Thankful had intended reserving for guests from the city, but when Mr. Heman Daniels expressed a wish to engage and occupy one of them, that on the left of the hall, she reconsidered and Mr. Daniels obtained his desire.  It was hard to refuse a personage like Mr. Daniels anything.  He was not an elderly man; neither was he, strictly speaking, a young one.  His age was, perhaps, somewhere in the late thirties or early forties and he was East Wellmouth’s leading lawyer, in fact its only one.

Heman was a bachelor and rather good-looking.  That his bachelorhood was a matter of choice and not necessity was a point upon which all of East Wellmouth agreed.  He was a favorite with the ladies, most of them, and, according to common report, there was a rich widow in Bayport who would marry him at a minute’s notice if he gave the notice.  So far, apparently, he had not given it.  He was a “smart” lawyer, everyone said that, and it is probable that he himself would have been the last to deny the accusation.  He was dignified and suave and gracious, also persuasive when he chose to be.

He had been boarding with the Holts, but, like the majority of the hotel lodgers and “mealers,” was very willing to change.  The location of the High Cliff House was, so he informed Thankful, the sole drawback to its availability as a home for him.

“If a bachelor may be said to have a home, Mrs. Barnes,” he added, graciously.  “However, I am sure even an unfortunate single person like myself may find a real home under your roof.  You see, your reputation had preceded you, ma’am.  Ha, ha! yes.  As I say, the location is the only point which has caused me to hesitate.  My—­er—­offices are on the Main Road near the postoffice and that is nearly a mile from here.  But, we’ll waive that point, ma’am.  Six dollars a week for the room and seven for meals, you say.  Thirteen dollars—­an unlucky number:  Ha, ha!  Suppose we call it twelve and dodge the bad luck, eh?  That would seem reasonable, don’t you think?”

Thankful shook her head.  “Altogether too reasonable, Mr. Daniels, I’m afraid,” she replied.  “I’ve cut my rates so close now that I’m afraid they’ll catch cold in bad weather.  Thirteen dollars a week may be unlucky, but twelve would be a sight more unlucky—­for me.  I can let you have a side room, of course, and that would be cheaper.”

But Mr. Daniels did not wish a side room; he desired a front room and, at last, consented to pay the regular rate for it.  But when the arrangement was concluded Thankful could not help feeling that she had taken advantage of an unworldly innocence.

Captain Obed Bangs, when she told him, reassured her.

“Don’t worry, ma’am,” he said.  “I wouldn’t lay awake nights fearin’ I’d got ahead of Heman Daniels much.  If you have got ahead of him you’re the only person I ever see that did, and you ought to be proud instead of ashamed.  And I’d get him to make his offer in writin’ and you lock up the writin’.”