You
never can tell what'll happen.
"You noticed how Hannah Parker sort of riz up when Kenelm started
smokin' yesterday? Yes, I know you did, 'cause you spoke of it. And you
notice, too, how meek and lowly she laid down and give in when he
kept right on doin' it. That ain't her usual way with Kenelm by a
consider'ble sight. I told you there was quite a yarn hitched to that
smokin' business. So there is.
"Kenelm's an old bach, you know. One time he used to work, or pretend
to, because he needed the money; but his Aunt Phoebe up to Brockton died
and left him four or five thousand dollars and he ain't worked of any
account since. He's a gentleman now, livin' on his income--and his
sister.
"Hannah ain't got but precious little money of her own, but she knows
how to take care of it, which her brother don't. She was housekeepin'
for some folks at Wapatomac, but when the inheritances landed she headed
straight for East Wellmouth, rented that little house they're in now,
and took charge of Kenelm. He wa'n't overanxious to have her do it, but
that didn't make any difference. One of her pet bugaboos was that, now
her brother was well-off--'cordin' to her idea of well-offness--some
designin' woman or other would marry him for his money. Down she
come, first train, and she's been all hands and the cook, yes, and
paymaster--with Kenelm a sort of steerage passenger, ever since. She
keeps watch over him same as the sewin' circle does over the minister's
wife, and it's 'No Anchorage for Females' around that house, I can tell
you.
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