When Thankful came she looked grave enough.
“I'm awful glad to see you, Cap'n,” she said. “I've been wantin' to talk to some sane person; the one I've been talkin' to ain't sane, not now. Come into the dinin'-room. Imogene, you needn't finish clearin' away till I tell you to. You stay in the kitchen here.”
When she and Captain Obed were in the dining-room alone, and with both doors closed, Thankful told of the morning's happenings.
“They're bad enough, too,” she declared. “Almost as bad as that silly business last night—or worse, if such a thing's possible. To begin with, Mr. John Kendrick's gone.”
“Yes, Imogene said he'd gone. But what made him go so early?”
“You don't understand, Cap'n. I mean he's gone—gone for good. He isn't goin' to board or room here any more.”
Captain Obed whistled. “Whew!” he exclaimed. “You don't mean it?”
“I wish I didn't, but I do. I didn't see him this mornin', he went too early for that, but he took his suitcase and his trunk is all packed and locked. He left a note for me with a check for his room rent and board in it. The note said that under the circumstances he presumed I would agree 'twas best for him to go somewheres else at once. He thanked me for my kindness, and said some real nice things—but he's gone.”
“Tut! tut! Dear, dear! Where's he gone to? Did he say?”
“No, I've told you all he said. I suppose likely I ought to have expected it, and perhaps, if he is goin' to work for that cousin of his and against me, it's best that he shouldn't stay here; but I'll miss him awful—a good deal more'n I miss the money he's paid me, and the land knows I need that. I can't understand why he acted the way he did last night. It don't seem like him at all.”