“I don't know, but I mean to find out. I'm a sensible person this morning, not an idiot, and I intend to lay that ghost.”
When they went back into the dining-room they were surprised at what they saw. Solomon was still sitting by the window, but Georgie was sitting in a chair beside him, exhibiting the pictures in one of his Christmas books and apparently on the best of terms with his new acquaintance.
“I'm showin' him my 'Swiss Family Robinson,'” said the boy. “Here's where they built a house in a tree, Mr. Cobb. Emmie told me about their doin' it.”
Solomon groaned.
“You better take this child away from me,” he said. “He came to me of his own accord, but he hadn't ought to stay. A man like me ain't fit to have children around him.”
Thankful had an inspiration.
“It's a sign,” she cried, clapping her hands. “It's a sign sent to you, Solomon. It means you're forgiven. That's what it means. Now you eat your breakfast.”
He was eating, or trying to eat, when someone knocked at the door. Winnie S. Holt was standing on the step.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Barnes,” he hailed. “Ain't drowned out after the gale, be you? Judas priest! Our place is afloat. Dad says he cal'lates we'll have to build a raft to get to the henhouse on. Here; here's somethin' Mr. Kendrick sent to you. Wanted me to give it to you, yourself, and nobody else.”
The something was a long envelope with “Mrs. Barnes, Personal,” written upon it. Thankful read the inscription.