Thankful regarded her maidservant with disapproval.

“What makes you say that, Imogene?” she demanded.  “Of course she likes him.  Why shouldn’t she?”

“She should, ma’am.  And she does, too.  And he likes her; that’s plain enough.”

“Imogene, what are you hintin’ at?  Do you mean that my cousin is in—­in love with Mr. John Kendrick?”

“No’m.  I don’t say that, not yet.  But there’s signs that—­”

“Signs!  If you don’t get those ridiculous story-book notions out of your head I don’t know what I’ll do to you.  What do you know about folks bein’ in love?  You ain’t in love, I hope; are you?”

Imogene hesitated.  “No, ma’am,” she replied.  “I ain’t.  But—­but maybe I might be, if I wanted to.”

“For mercy sakes!  The girl’s crazy.  You might be—­if you wanted to!  Who with?  If you’re thinkin’ of marryin’ anybody seems to me I ought to know it.  Why, you ain’t met more’n a dozen young fellers in this town, and I’ve taken good care to know who they were.  If you’re thinkin’ of fallin’ in love—­or marryin’—­”

Imogene interrupted.  “I ain’t,” she declared.  “And, anyhow, ma’am, gettin’ married don’t necessarily mean you’re in love.”

“It don’t!  Well, this beats all I ever—­”

“No, ma’am, it don’t.  Sometimes it’s a person’s duty to get married.”

Thankful gasped.  “Duty!” she repeated.  “You have been readin’ more of those books, in spite of your promisin’ me you wouldn’t.”

“No, ma’am, I ain’t.  Honest, I ain’t.”

“Then what do you mean?  Imogene, what man do you care enough for to make you feel it’s your—­your duty to marry him?”

“No man at all,” declared Imogene, promptly and decisively.  And that is all she would say on the subject.

Thankful repeated this astonishing conversation, or part of it, to Emily.  The latter considered it a good joke.  “That girl is a strange creature,” she said, “and great fun.  You never can tell what she will say or think.  She is very romantic and that nonsense about duty and the rest of it undoubtedly is taken from some story she has read.  You needn’t worry, Auntie.  Imogene worships you, and she will never leave you—­to be married, or for any other reason.”

So Thankful did not worry about Imogene.  She had other worries, those connected with a houseful of boarders, and these were quite sufficient.  And now came another.  Kenelm Parker was threatening to leave her employ.

The statement is not strictly true.  Kenelm, himself, never threatened to do anything.  But another person did the threatening for him and that person was his sister.  Hannah Parker, for some unaccountable reason, seemed to be developing a marked prejudice against the High Cliff House.  Her visits to the premises were not less frequent than formerly, but they were confined to the yard and stable; she no longer called at the house.  Her manner toward Emily and Thankful was cordial enough perhaps, but there was constraint in it and she asked a good many questions concerning her brother’s hours of labor, what he did during the day, and the like.