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Lincoln, Joseph Crosby, 1870-1944

"Thankful's Inheritance"

You're the pluckiest and best woman ever was. You're
the finest--er--er--Oh, consarn it, Thankful, don't cry any more. Can't
you," desperately, "can't you see I can't stand it to have you?"
"All right, Cap'n Bangs, I won't. Don't you bother about me or my
worries. I guess likely you've got enough of your own; most people
have."
"I ain't. I ain't got enough. Do me good if I had more. Thankful, see
here; what's the use of your fightin' all these things alone? I've
watched you ever since you made port here in South Wellmouth and it's
been nothin' but fight and worry all the time. What's the use of it?
You're too good a woman to waste your life this way. Give it up."
"Give it up?"
"Yes, give it up. Give up this wearin' yourself out keepin' boarders and
runnin' this big house. Why don't you stop takin' care of other folks
and take care of yourself for a spell?"
"But I can't. I can't take care of myself. All I have is invested in
this place and if I give it up I lose everything."
"Yes, yes, I know what you mean. But what I mean is--is--"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean--I mean why don't you let somebody take care of you? That's what
I mean."
Thankful turned to stare at him.
"Somebody--else--take care of me?" she repeated.
"Yes--yes. Don't look at me like that. If you do I can't say it.
I'm--I'm havin' a--a hard enough time sayin' it as 'tis. Thankful
Barnes, why--don't LOOK at me, I tell you!"
But she still looked at him, and, if a look ever conveyed a meaning,
hers did just then.


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