“Eh!” cried Imogene. “Oh, it's you, Mrs. Thankful. I was wonderin' where you was. I've been havin' a little talk with Kenelm here. It's all right, Mrs. Thankful.”
“What's all right?” asked Thankful.
“About your brother workin' here in Kenelm's place. He don't mind. You don't, do you, Kenelm?”
Mr. Parker, who had been standing upon one foot and pawing like a restless horse with the other, shifted his position.
“No-o,” he drawled. “I—I don't know's I do.”
Thankful was disturbed. “I'm sorry you said anything yet awhile, Imogene,” she said. “My plans about Jedediah are hardly made yet. I do hate to make you lose your place, Kenelm. If I could see my way clear to keepin' two men I'd do it, but I declare I can't see it.”
“That's all right, ma'am,” said Kenelm. “I ain't partic'lar.”
“He don't mind a bit, Mrs. Thankful,” put in Imogene. “Honest, he don't. He don't have to work unless he's obliged to—not much anyhow. Kenelm's got money, you know.”
“I know; at least I've heard he had some money. But 'tain't because he needs the money that I feel bad; it's because of his engagement to you, Imogene. I suppose you're plannin' to be married some time or other and—”
“Oh, that's all right, too,” interrupted Imogene eagerly. “You needn't worry about our engagement. She needn't worry about that, need she, Kenelm?”