Imogene went and returned with her grin broader than ever.

“He says she did bring ’em,” she announced.  “Says she always brings him his things on the ninth.  He’s pretty peppery this mornin’, seems to me.  Says he don’t cal’late to stand there and freeze much longer.”

“Freeze!  Why, it’s the warmest day we’ve had for a fortni’t.  The sun’s come out and it’s cleared up fine, like Indian summer.  Oh, do be still!” as another shout for “Mrs. Barnes” came from above.  “Here, never mind, Imogene; I’ll tell him.”

She went into the front hall and called up the stairs.

“Your things ain’t here, Mr. Hammond,” she said.  “Melindy didn’t bring ’em.  She’s laid up with a cold and probably couldn’t get ’em ready.”

“Course she’s got ’em ready!  She always has ’em ready.  She knows I want ’em.”

“Maybe so, but she ain’t always sick, ’tain’t likely.  They ain’t here, anyway.  You won’t need ’em today.”

“Need ’em?  Course I need ’em.  It’s colder than Christmas.”

“No, it isn’t.  It’s almost as warm as September.  Put on two suits of your others, if you’re so cold.  And come down to breakfast as soon as you can.  We’ve all had ours.”

When Mr. Hammond did come down to breakfast his manner was that of a martyr.  The breakfast itself, baked beans and fishballs, did not appeal to him, and he ate little.  He grumbled as he drank his coffee.

“Healthy note, this is!” he muttered.  “Got to set around and freeze to death just ’cause that lazy critter ain’t finished her job.  I pay her for it, don’t I?”

Thankful sniffed.  “I suppose you do,” she said, adding under her breath, “though how much you pay is another thing.”

“Is this all the breakfast you’ve got?” queried Caleb.

“Why, yes; it’s what we always have Sunday mornin’s.  Isn’t it what you expected?”

“Oh, I expected it, all right.  Take it away; I don’t want no more.  Consarn it!  I wish sometimes I had a home of my own.”

“Well, why don’t you have one?  I should think you would.  You can afford it.”

Mr. Hammond did not reply.  He folded his napkin, seized his hat and coat and went out.  When he crossed the threshold he shivered, as a matter of principle.

He stalked gloomily along the path by the edge of the bluff.  Captain Obed Bangs came up the path and they met.

“Hello, Caleb!” hailed the captain.  “Fine weather at last, eh?  Almost like August.  Injun summer at last, I cal’late.  What you got your coat collar turned up for?  Afraid of getting your neck sunburned?”

Mr. Hammond grunted and hurried on.  Captain Obed had chosen a poor topic if he desired a lengthy conversation.

Mrs. Pease lived at the farther end of the village and when Caleb reached there he was met by the lady’s niece, Emma Snow.

“Aunt Melindy’s real poorly,” said Emma.  “She’s been so for ’most three days.  I’m stayin’ here with her till she gets better.  No, she ain’t had time to do your mendin’ yet.  Anyhow it’s so nice and warm you don’t need the things, that’s a comfort.”