A few minutes later, the auto, with John, Emily and Thankful on the rear seat and Captain Obed in front with the driver, rolled out of the yard and along the sandy road toward Wellmouth Centre.  About a mile from the latter village it passed a buggy with two people in it.  The pair in the buggy were Caleb Hammond and Hannah Parker.

Captain Obed chuckled.  “There go the sweethearts,” he observed.  “Handsome young couple, ain’t they?”

The other occupants of the car joined in the laugh.  Emily, in particular, was greatly amused.

“Why do you call them sweethearts, Captain?” she asked.  “You don’t really suppose—­”

The captain burst into a laugh.

“What?  Those two?” he said.  “No, no, I was only jokin’.  I don’t know about Hannah—­single women her age are kind of chancey—­but I do know Caleb.  He ain’t takin’ a wife to support, not unless she can support him.  He had a chance to use a horse and buggy free for nothin’, that’s all; and it would be against his principles to let a chance like that go by.  Cal’late he took Hannah ’cause he knew ice cream and peanuts don’t agree with her dyspepsy and so he wouldn’t have to buy any.  Ho, ho!  I wonder how Kenelm made out?  Wonder if he went on his own hook, after all?”

In the kitchen of the High Cliff House Imogene was washing the breakfast dishes and trying to forget her disappointment.  A step sounded in the woodshed and, turning, she beheld Mr. Parker.  He saw her at the same time and the surprise was mutual.

“Why, hello!” exclaimed Imogene.  “I thought you’d gone to the Fair.”

“Hello!” cried Kenelm.  “Thought you’d gone to the Cattle Show.”

Explanations followed.  “What are you cal’latin’ to do, then?” demanded Kenelm, moodily.

“Me?  Stay here on my job, of course.  That’s what you’re goin’ to do, too, ain’t it?”

Mr. Parker thrust his hands into his pockets.

“No, by time, I ain’t!” he declared, fiercely.  “I ain’t got any job no more.  I’ve quit, I have.”

“Quit!  You mean you ain’t goin’ to work for Mrs. Thankful?”

“I ain’t gain’ to work for nobody.  Why should I?  I’ve got money enough to live on, ain’t I?  I’ve got an income of my own.  I ain’t told Mrs. Thankful yet, but I have quit, just the same.”

Imogene put down the dishcloth.

“This is your sister’s doin’s, I guess likely,” she observed.

“No, it ain’t!  If—­if it was, by time, I wouldn’t do it!  Hannah treats me like a dog—­yes, sir, like a dog.  I’m goin’ to show her.  A man’s got some feelin’s, if he is a dog.”

“How are you goin’ to show her?”

“I don’t know, but I be.  I’ll run away, if I can’t do nothin’ else.  I’ll show her I’m sick of her bossin’.”

Imogene seemed to be thinking.  She regarded Mr. Parker with a steady and reflective stare.

“What are you lookin’ at me like that for?” demanded Kenelm, after the stare had become unbearable.