March, so to speak, blew itself out; April came and went; May was here.And on the seventeenth of May the repairs on the "Cap'n Abner place" were completed.The last carpenter had gone, leaving his shavings and chips behind him.The last painter had spilled his last splash of paint on the sprouting grass beneath the spotless white window sills.The last paper-hanger had departed.
Winnie S.was loading into what he called a "truck wagon" the excelsior and bagging in which the final consignment of new furniture had been wrapped during its journey from Boston.About the front yard Kenelm Parker was moving, rake in hand.In the kitchen Imogene, the girl from the Orphans' Home in Boston, who had been engaged to act as "hired help," was arranging the new pots and pans on the closet shelf and singing "Showers of Blessings"cheerfully if not tunefully.
Yes, the old "Cap'n Abner place" was rejuvenated and transformed and on the following Monday it would be the "Cap'n Abner place" no longer: it would then become the "High Cliff House" and open its doors to hoped-for boarders, either of the "summer" or "all-the-year" variety.
The name had been Emily Howes' choice.She and Mrs.Barnes had carried on a lengthy and voluminous correspondence and the selection of a name had been left to Emily.To her also had been intrusted the selection of wallpapers, furniture and the few pictures which Thankful had felt able to afford.These were but few, for the cost of repairing and refitting had been much larger than the original estimate.The fifteen hundred dollars raised on the mortgage had gone and of the money obtained by the sale of the cranberry bog shares--Mrs.Pearson's legacy--nearly half had gone also.Estimates are one thing and actual expenditures are another, a fact known to everyone who has either built a house or rebuilt one, and more than once during the repairing and furnishing process Thankful had repented of her venture and wished she had not risked the plunge.But, having risked it, backing out was impossible.
Neither was it possible to stop half-way.As she said to Captain Obed, "There's enough half-way decent boardin'-houses and hotels in this neighborhood now.There's about as much need of another of that kind as there is of an icehouse at the North Pole.Either this boardin'-house of mine must be the very best there can be, price considered, or it mustn't be at all.That's the way I look at it."The captain had, of course, agreed with her.His advice had been invaluable.He had helped in choosing carpenters and painters and it was owing to his suggestion that Mrs.Barnes had refrained from engaging an East Wellmouth young woman to help in the kitchen.
"You could find one, of course," said the captain."There's two or three I could think of right off now who would probably take the job, but two out of the three wouldn't be much account anyhow, and the only one that would is Sarah Mullet and she's engaged to a Trumet feller.Now let alone the prospect of Sarah's gettin'
married and leavin' you 'most any time, there's another reason for not hirin' her.She's the everlastin'est gossip in Ostable County, and that's sayin' somethin'.What Sarah don't know about everybody's private affairs she guesses and she always guesses out loud.Inside of a fortnight she'd have all you ever done and a whole lot you never thought of doin' advertised from Race P'int to Sagamore.She's a reg'lar talkin' foghorn, if there was such a thing--only a foghorn shuts down in clear weather and SHE don't shut down, day or night.Talks in her sleep, I shouldn't wonder.
If I was you, Mrs.Barnes, I wouldn't bother with any help from 'round here.I'd hire a girl from Boston, or somewheres; then you could be skipper of your own ship."Thankful, after thinking the matter over, decided that the advice was good.The difficulty, of course, was in determining the "somewhere" from which the right sort of servant, one willing to work for a small wage, might be obtained.At length she wrote to a Miss Coffin, once a nurse in Middleboro but now matron of an orphans' home in Boston.Miss Coffin's reply was to the effect that she had, in her institution, a girl who might in time prove to be just the sort which her friend desired.
Of course [she wrote], she isn't at all a competent servant now, but she is bright and anxious to learn.And she is a good girl, although something of a character.Her Christian name is Marguerite, at least she says it is.What her other name is goodness only knows.She has been with us now for nearly seven years.Before that she lived with and took care of a drunken old woman who said she was the girl's aunt, though I doubt if she was.
Suppose I send her to you on trial; you can send her back to us if she doesn't suit.It would be a real act of charity to give her a chance, and I think you will like her in spite of her funny ways.
This doubtful recommendation caused Thankful to shake her head.
She had great confidence in Miss Coffin's judgment, but she was far from certain that "Marguerite" would suit.However, guarded inquiries in Wellmouth and Trumet strengthened her conviction that Captain Obed knew what he was talking about, and, the time approaching when she must have some sort of servant, she, at last, in desperation wrote her friend to send "the Marguerite one" along for a month's trial.
The new girl arrived two days later.Winnie S.brought her down in the depot-wagon, in company with her baggage, a battered old valise and an ancient umbrella.She clung to each of these articles with a death grip, evidently fearful that someone might try to steal them.She appeared to be of an age ranging from late sixteen to early twenty, and had a turned-up nose and reddish hair drawn smoothly back from her forehead and fastened with a round comb.
Her smile was of the "won't come off" variety.
Thankful met her at the back door and ushered her into the kitchen, the room most free from workmen at the moment.
