Imogene and Hannah Parker, as Captain Obed said, “rubbed each other the wrong way.”  Hannah was continually calling to see her brother, probably to make sure that he was there and not in the dangerous Larkin neighborhood.  Imogene resented these visits—­“usin’ up Mrs. Thankful’s time,” she said they were—­and she and Hannah had some amusing clashes.  Miss Parker was inclined to patronize the girl from the Orphan’s Home, and Imogene objected.

“Well,” observed Hannah, on one occasion, “I presume likely you find it nice to be down here, where folks are folks and not just ‘inmates.’  It must be dreadful to be an ‘inmate.’”

Imogene sniffed.  “There’s all kinds of inmates,” she said, “same as there’s all kinds of folks.  Far’s that goes, there’s some folks couldn’t be an inmate, if they wanted to.  They wouldn’t be let in.”

“Oh, is that so?  Judgin’ by what I’ve seen I shouldn’t have thought them that run such places was very particular.  Where’s Kenelm?”

“I don’t know.  He’s to work, I suppose.  That’s what he’s hired for, they tell me.”

“Oh, indeed!  Well,” with emphasis, “he doesn’t have to work, unless he wants to.  My brother has money of his own, enough to subside on comf’tably, if he wanted to do it.  His comin’ here is just to accommodate Mrs. Barnes, that’s all.  Where is he?”

“Last I saw of him he was accommodatin’ the horse stall.  He may be uptown by this time, for all I know.”

“Uptown?” in alarm.  “What would he be uptown for?  He ain’t got any business there, has he?”

“Search me.  Good many guys—­folks, I mean—­seem to be always hangin’ ’round where they haven’t business.  Well, I’ve got some of my own and I guess I’d better attend to it.  Good mornin’, ma’am.”

Miss Howes cautioned Imogene against arousing the Parkers’ enmity.

“Lordy!  I mean mercy sakes, ma’am,” exclaimed Imogene, “you needn’t be afraid so far as Kenelm’s concerned.  I do boss him around some, when I think it’s needful, but it ain’t my bossin’ that worries him, it’s that Hannah woman’s.  He says she’s at him all the time.  Don’t give him the peace of his life, he says.  He’s a misunderstood man, he tells me.  Maybe he is; there are such, you know.  I’ve read about ’em in stories.”

Emily smiled.  “Well,” she said, “I wouldn’t drive him too hard, if I were you, Imogene.  He isn’t the hardest worker in the world, but he does do some work, and men who can be hired to work about a place in summer are scarce here in East Wellmouth.  You must be patient with him.”

“Lor—­land sakes!  I am.  But he does make me cross.  He’d be settin’ in my kitchen every evenin’ if I’d let him.  Don’t seem to want to go home.  I don’t know’s I blame him for that.  You think I ought to let him set, I suppose, Miss Howes?”

“Why, yes, if he doesn’t annoy you too much.  We must keep him contented.  You must sacrifice your own feelings to help Aunt Thankful.  You would be willing to make some sacrifice for her, wouldn’t you?”