“Women?  What women?”

“Oh, I don’t know.  How should I know?”

“Well—­well, I suppose likely they are.  Imogene said she was goin’ and—­”

“Imogene!  You mean that hired inmate over to Thankful Barnes’?  Humph!  So she told you she was goin’, hey?  Well, most likely she told a fib.  I wouldn’t trust her not to; sassy, impudent thing!  I don’t believe she’s goin’ at all.  Is she, Cap’n Bangs?”

The captain, who had remained silent during this family jar, could not resist the temptation.

“Oh yes, Imogene’s goin’,” he answered, cheerfully.  “She’s countin’ on havin’ the time of her life over there.  But she isn’t the only one.  Why, about all the females in East Wellmouth’ll be there.  I heard Abbie Larkin arrangin’ for her passage with Winnie S. yesterday afternoon.  Win said, ‘Judas priest!’ He didn’t know where he was goin’ to put her, but he cal’lated he’d have to find stowage room somewhere.  Oh, Kenelm won’t be lonesome, Hannah.  I shouldn’t worry about that.”

Kenelm looked as if he wished the speaker might choke.  Hannah straightened in her chair.

“Hum!” she mused.  “Hum!” and was silent for a moment.  Then she asked: 

“Is Mrs. Thankful goin’, too?  I suppose likely she is.”

The captain’s cheerfulness vanished.

“No,” he said, shortly, “she isn’t.  She wanted to, but she doesn’t feel she can leave the boardin’-house with nobody to look after it.”

Miss Parker seemed pleased, for some reason or other.

“I don’t wonder,” she said, heartily.  “She shouldn’t be left all alone herself, either.  If that ungrateful, selfish Orphan’s Home minx is selfish enough to go and leave her, all the more reason my brother shouldn’t.  Whatever else us Parkers may be, we ain’t selfish.  We think about others.  Kenelm, dear, you must stay at work and help Mrs. Barnes around the house tomorrow.  You and I’ll go to the Fair on Saturday.  I don’t mind; I’d just as soon go twice as not.”

Kenelm sprang to his feet.  He was so angry that he stuttered.

“You—­you—­you don’t care!” he shouted. “‘Cause you’re goin’ twice!  That’s a divil of a don’t care, that is!”

“Kenelm!  My own brother!  Cursin’ and swearin’!”

“I ain’t, and—­and I don’t care if I be!  What’s the matter with you, Hannah Parker?  One minute you’re sailin’ into me tellin’ me to heave up my job and not demean myself doin’ odd jobs in a boardin’-house barn.  And the next minute you’re tellin’ me I ought to stay to home and—­and help out that very boardin’-house.  I won’t!  By—­by thunder-mighty, I won’t!  I’m goin’ to that Cattle Show tomorrow if it takes my last cent.”

Hannah smiled.  “How many last cents have you got, Kenelm?” she asked.  “You was doin’ your best to borrer a quarter of me this mornin’.”

“I’ve got more’n you have.  I—­I—­everything there is here—­yes, and every cent there is here—­belongs to me by rights.  You ain’t got nothin’ of your own.”