Susan Clegg and Her Neighbors' Affairs

MISS CLEGG'S SPECULATIONS

Mrs. Lathrop, rocking placidly in her kitchen window, was conscious of a vague sense of worry as to her friend over the fence. It appeared to her that Susan was looking more thin and peaked than nature had intended. It is true that Miss Clegg was always of a bony and nervous outline, but it seemed slowly but surely borne in upon her older friend that of late she had been rapidly becoming sharper in every way. Mrs. Lathrop felt that she ought to speak—that she ought not to lead her next door neighbor into the false belief that her sufferings were unnoticed by the affectionate spectacles forever turned her way,—and yet—Mrs. Lathrop being Mrs. Lathrop—it was only after several days of rocking and cogitation that the verbal die came to its casting.

That came to be upon a summer evening, and it came to pass across the barrier-fence where Miss Clegg had come to lean wearily, her shoulders and the corners of her mouth following the same dejected angle, while her elderly friend stood facing her with a gaze that was at once earnest, penetrating, and commiserating, and a clover blossom in her mouth.

"Susan," said Mrs. Lathrop, in a voice mournful enough to have renovated Job; "Susan, I—"

Miss Clegg shut her eyes firmly and opened them sharply.

"I 'm glad you have," she said, in a voice whose tone was divided between relief and reproach,—"I certainly am glad you have. I try to be close-mouthed 'n' never trouble any one with my affairs, Mrs. Lathrop, but I will say as I have often wondered at how you could sit 'n' rock in the face of what I 've been grinnin' 'n' bearin' these last few weeks. Not that rockin' is any crime, 'n' I always feel it must be fine exercise for the chair, but it 's hard for one who has the wolf at their door, 'n' not only at their door, but nigh to bu'stin' it in, to see their dearest friend rockin' away, like wolf or no wolf she 'd go on forever."

Mrs. Lathrop looked aggrieved.

"Why, Susan—" she protested.

"That ain't no excuse," the friend said, not harshly but with a cold distinctness; "you may talk yourself blind if you feel so inclined, 'n' I don't say but what you really did n't mean nothin', but the fact remains, 'n' always will remain, as you 've took a deal of comfort rockin' while I 've been kitin' broadcast tryin' to see if I could keep soul 'n' body together or whether I 'd have to let one or the other of 'em go."

Mrs. Lathrop opened her mouth and eyes widely.

"I never—" she gasped.

Susan hooked herself on to the fence-rail with both her elbows preparatory to a lengthy debate; her eyes were bright, her expression one of unreserved exposition. Mrs. Lathrop continued to keep her eyes and mouth open, but reasons which will soon be known to the reader prevented her making another remark for a long time.

"Mrs. Lathrop, I may as well begin by goin' 'way back to the beginnin' of everythin' 'n' takin' you right in the hide and hair of my whole troubles. It ain't possible for you to realize what your rockin 's meant to me unless you understand to the full what I 've been goin' through 'n' crawlin' under these last weeks. I want to spare your feelin's all I can, for it ain't in me to be unkind to so much as a gooseberry, but I can't well see how you can keep from bein' some punched by remorse when you hear how I 've been cleanin' house with a heavy heart 'n' no new mop. That's what I 've been doin', Mrs. Lathrop, 'n' so help me Heaven, it's death or a new mop next year. The way that mop has skipped dirt 'n' dripped water!—well, seein' is the only believin' when it comes to mops, but all I can say is that you never looked more spotty than I have since that mop, 'n' you know how lookin' spotty is mortal agony to me—me not bein' one who can be happy rockin' on top of dirt.

"Well, Mrs. Lathrop, I said I was goin' to begin at the beginnin', so I will, although the whole town knows as it was that fine scheme of Mr. Kimball's as set my ball bouncin' down hill. I was n't the only one as got rolled over 'n' throwed out feet up, but I don't know as bein' one of a number to lose money makes the money any more fun to lose. Mr. Dill was sayin' yesterday as he would n't have listened to nothin' but white for Lucy's weddin'-dress if it had n't been for Mr. Kimball 'n' his little scheme, but I don't get any great comfort out of knowin' that Lucy Dill 's got to try 'n' get herself married in her Aunt Samantha Dill's blue bengaline. The blue bengaline 's very handsome 'n' I never see a prettier arrangement of beads 'n' fringe, but every one says too much of Lucy shows at the top 'n' bottom to even be romantic. They can hook it, but Lucy can't stay hooked inside but five minutes at the outside. I 'm sure I don't see how they 'll ever fix it, 'n' Gran'ma Mullins says she cries whenever she thinks that at Hiram's weddin' the bride won't have no weddin'-dress. Polly Allen wanted Lucy to open the darts 'n' let in puffs like Mary Stuart's husbands always was puffed, but Lucy never see Mary Stuart 'n' the only picture in town of any of her husbands has got him in bed with the sheet drawed up to his chin 'n' his hands folded right on top of where they 'd want to copy the darts. Such a picture ain't no help a tall, so Lucy is still shakin' her head the same as at first. My idea would be to make no wish-bones about it 'n' just be married in her travelin'-dress 'n' then wear it when she goes away, but it seems she wants her travelin'-dress for church, 'n' does n't mean to wear it travelin' anyhow, because she 'n' Hiram is just wild over the no-one-knowin'-they 're-married idea, 'n' Lucy is goin' to wear old gloves 'n' some buttons off her shoes, 'n' Hiram is goin' to wear his mother's spectacles 'n' Mr. Shores' store umbrella. Gran'ma Mullins feels awful over Hiram's goin' away like that; she says she 's brought him up so neat 'n' always a vest on Sunday 'n' only shirt-sleeves in summer, 'n' now to think of him goin' off on his weddin'-trip in Mr. Shores' umbrella!—but Lucy don't care—nor Hiram neither—'n' they 're goin' to take along a piece of sand-paper 'n' sand-paper the shine off the ring on the train. Polly Allen 'n' the deacon is laughin' to fits over them. Everythin' 's very different with Polly 'n' the deacon. The deacon says it ain't in reason as a man of sixty-two can look forward to many more weddin's, 'n' he 's goin' to sit with his arm around Polly, 'n' he don't care who chooses to suspeck they 're weddin'-trippin'. They 're goin' to be all new clothes right through to their skins, 'n' Polly 's goin' to have a orange-blossom bunch on her hat. The deacon says he 'll pay for all the rice folks are willin' to throw, 'n' it 's a open secret as he 's goin' to give the minister a gold piece. The minister was smilin' all over town about it until Mr. Kimball told him he see a gold quarter-of-a-dollar once. He's hopin' for a five, but Mr. Shores says he knows positive as the deacon got two two-dollar-and-a-halfs at the bank when his wife died, and he gave one to the minister then 'n' probably he 's been savin' the other to get married again with."

Susan paused for breath—a vital necessity—and then went on:

"But dear me, Mrs. Lathrop, all that ain't what I set out to tell you, 'n' even if it's a pleasure to you to hear it, it ain't in reason as I should take my time to talk to you about other people's affairs. You may be interested in other people's affairs, but I ain't, 'n' we started to talk about mine 'n' what I set out to talk about I talk about or else I stay at home. It was my troubles as I was goin' to make a clean high breast of, Mrs. Lathrop, 'n' I 'll lay any odds as by the time I get through you 'll have little feelin' to sleep in you. The Lord says, 'To him who hath shall be given,' 'n' I will in confidence remark as I 've just been achin' to give it to you for these many days. You 've always been poor, but you 've never seemed to mind; now I 'm poor (yes, Mrs. Lathrop, jump if you like"—for Mrs. Lathrop had started in surprise—"but it 's so) 'n' I mind; I mind very much, I mind all up 'n' down and kitty-cornered crossways, 'n' if I keep on gettin' poor, Lord have mercy on you, for I shall certainly not be able to look on calmly at no great amount of rockin'."

Mrs. Lathrop stared widely—and gasped openly. Susan continued:

"It all began with Mr. Kimball 'n' his gettin' the fever of speckilation. Mr. Kimball said he thought he 'd rather get rich quick than not get rich at all. That was the way he put it 'n' it sounded so sensible 't I felt to agree. Then he begin to unfold how (he had the newspaper in his hand), 'n' as soon as he was unfolded I read the advertisement. It was a very nice advertisement an' no patent medicine could have sounded easier to take in. You buy two rubber trees 'n' then wait two years 'n' get fifty per cent till you die. Well, Mrs. Lathrop, I went over that advertisement fifty times to try 'n' see what to do 'n' yet the more I studied it the less faith I had in it somehow. The picture of the man who tended the trees was up on top 'n' little pictures of him made a kind of pearl frame around the whole, 'n' he was honest enough lookin', as far as I could judge, but—as I told Mr. Kimball—what was to guarantee us as he 'd stick to the same job steady, 'n' I certainly did n't have no longin' in me to buy a rubber tree in southeast Peru 'n' then leave it to be hoed around by Tom, Dick, 'n' Harry. So I shook my head 'n' said 'no' in the end 'n' then we looked up railway stocks. Mr. Kimball read me a list of millionaires 'n' he asked me if I would n't like to be called 'Susan Clegg, queen of the Western Pacific'—but I 'm too old to be caught by any such chaff, 'n' I told him so to his face, and then it was that we come to his favorite scheme of the 'Little Flyer in Wheat.' That was what he called it, 'n' I must say that I think it's a pretty good name, only if I know myself I 'll buy wheat as never sets down hereafter.

"Well, Mrs. Lathrop, it took a deal of talkin' 'n' Mr. Kimball had to do a lot of figgerin' before my eyes afore I was ready to believe him when he said as five of us could go in together 'n' double our money every few days for a month or so. He showed me as what he was figgerin' from was printed in plain letters 'n' red ink in a city paper, 'n' after a while I opened my mouth 'n' swallowed the whole thing, red ink 'n' all. Mr. Kimball, Mr. Dill, Mr. Shores, me, 'n' me over again, was the five, 'n' we bought the share right off, fully believin' as we 'd begin the wheat-flyin' the same way—" Susan paused and set her teeth a little vigorously for a moment,—then:

"Well, Mrs. Lathrop, that was the way it all begun, 'n' I can lay my hand anywhere 'n' swear as all my bad luck is founded solid on Mr. Kimball in consequence. The very day after we begun with our fly instid of doublin' he halved in the mornin' paper 'n' it seemed we 'd got to buy him all over again or it was good-by Johnny. Me bein' the only one with money known to be ready 'n' idle they brought the paper to me to save the share, 'n' I can only say, Mrs. Lathrop, as I wish as you could have seen their faces when they saw mine. I saw I was a lamb sittin' among the sharks, but I see, too, as I 'd have to come to time 'n' I got the money, 'n' then we set down—Mr. Dill, Mr. Shores, 'n' me—to figger on how much of the share was mine on the new deal. It struck me, 'n' it strikes me now, 'n' it always will strike me, as any one as owns two-fifths of a thing and then buys the whole thing over again owns seven-fifths of it from then on, but Mr. Dill had the face to tell me to my face as it wa'n't so at all. He figgered the share at 100 'n' us paid down at 50 'n' me all together as aggravatin' up to 45, 'n' I could only sit starin' 'n' stark ravin' dumb to see where he would come out after that. I did n't say nothin' of what I felt to him or Mr. Shores, for the very good reason as I wanted to save all my feelin's for Mr. Kimball, but I tell you that a volcano gettin' itself made in the beginnin' is floatin' lily-pads beside the inside of me that hour.

"I went down-town that afternoon 'n' I aired myself pretty thoroughly over the whole town, I can assure you. Mr. Allen said I 'd better pocket my loss 'n' give up dabblin' in stocks, but I did n't see no great sense in what he said. I did n't have nothin' to pocket, everything was gone,—'n' so far as dabblin' goes I wa'n't dabblin', I was in up to my nose. But Mr. Kimball come out as brassy as a bass-drum 'n' showed me a picture of wheat layin' on his back in bed takin' a tonic with four doctors doin' up his room work for him. The doctors was all millionaires on that stock list of railroads 'n' I counted on their knowin' what they were givin' him, so I come home quite a little easier, 'n' that night I slept like a ton of hay. But the next day!—my Lord alive, you remember the next day, don't you, Mrs. Lathrop, 'n' it must have been arsenic as them four had put in his bottle, for I was up in the garret makin' a thistle-down pillow 'n' there come Ed tearin' up on his bicycle to tell me as I must stick in ten dollars more on a margin. 'On a what?' I hollered from the window. 'On a margin,' he hollered from under the porch. Well, really, Mrs. Lathrop, I do believe if he had n't been under the porch I would have throwed something down on him. My, but I was mad! I come down that garret-ladder like a greased pan 'n' I tied my bonnet on 'n' walked straight in on Mr. Kimball. That was one time as he did very little jokin', 'n' in the end he put in five of the ten himself 'n' then we both sat down 'n' tried to figger out as to how much of that share we each owned. I will confess as takin' down stoves was lookin' out of the window beside that job, 'n' in the end he made out as that if the share was worth the whole of itself I 'd own half, but bein' worth only what had happened to it there was n't the half in the whole. So I come home 'n' dreamed nothin' but nightmares runnin' wildly up 'n' down me.

"You know what happened next!—it was the next mornin', 'n' I was makin' bread with a very heavy dough when Ed come bouncin' in for three dollars more margin. Well, I honestly thought I 'd bu'st. I blazed up so quick 'n' so sudden that Ed fell back agin the table, 'n' then I shook till the window rattled. It was a good minute before I could speak, 'n' when I spoke, I may in truth remark, Mrs. Lathrop, that I never spoke plainer nor firmer in my life,—'Edward Andrews'—I says—'Edward Andrews, you paddle yourself right back to Mr. Kimball 'n' tell him that my patience is very short 'n' is gettin' shorter each minute, 'n' you may just casually mention that I ain't got no more money to margin with not now 'n' not never. If a thing as I 've paid nigh to eight-fifths for is shrunk to less than half of itself Mr. Dill 'n' Mr. Shores can margin for it from now on—I'm done forever.' 'N' I was done, too—but I never bargained on what came next!—Mr. Kimball traded that share in wheat for two in a Refrigerator Trust 'n' never even so much as sneezed about it to me, 'n' I will say, Mrs. Lathrop, as I consider that the Bible sayin' 'Honor among thieves' ought to apply to me just as much as to any one else. 'N' there I went into the city as unsuspectin' as a can brimful of buttermilk 'n' bought a paper to read comin' home on the cars, 'n' what should I unfold but wheat runnin' up a ladder along with a bull to get out of the way of a lot of wild-lookin' lambs! The ladder-rungs was numbered 'n' I was sharp enough to see as them numbers was money 'n' that wheat had one leg safe on 110; so I kited home to sell out—'n' it was then I learned about the Refrigerator!

"Well, Mrs. Lathrop!—well, Mrs. Lathrop, what do you think was my feelin's then?—I tell you boilin' lava 'n' India's sunny strand was n't hotter than me that minute. Me—the backbone of the whole thing 'n' sold out like I was a mummy while I was in town buyin' darnin'-cotton!"

Miss Clegg shifted her weight to the other foot and drew a long, fresh breath.

"Mr. Kimball 'n' me has never been the same since," she continued with warmth;—"we had enough to make us different, Heaven knows, for from that day on misfortune has just dogged and rabbited me, I know. The winter was so cold that the only way the Refrigerator Trust could come out even was to burn up toward spring, 'n' the day it burnt wheat was sittin' on 140, kissin' his hand to the new crop."

"But Mr. Kim—" interposed Mrs. Lathrop.

"Oh, well, of course, havin' Mr. Shores fail right opposite brightened everything for him—I 'd smile myself if any one was to fail right opposite me, 'n' I said just that very thing to Mr. Shores the mornin' after. I says,—I says, 'Mr. Shores, you must consider that this is a world of ups and downs, 'n' that if you don't like to fail your failure is makin' Mr. Kimball happy 'n' your loss will be his credit.' But Mr. Shores was too busy to talk, so I bought two skewers to encourage him 'n' come out, 'n' within a week I found to my sorrow as I was pretty unpleasantly near to a mark-down sale myself."

"It was—" observed Mrs. Lathrop, sadly.

"Yes," said her friend, "that's just when it was,—that very self-same week. I was in the square listenin' to Gran'ma Mullins' everlastin' tale of woe over Hiram 'n' Lucy, 'n' up come the blacksmith with a tale of woe for myself. Now, Mrs. Lathrop, you know me 'n' you 've known me a long time 'n' you 've heard me tell this a good many times 'n' yet I want to ask you one time more,—do you think any one but the blacksmith 'n' Mr. Dill would ever have blamed me for the crick's washing out back of the blacksmith's 'n' lettin' the anvil 'n' the hind legs of Mr. Dill's horse slide out sudden? Of course, I own the blacksmith shop 'n' of course I rent it, but—as I told him 'n' Mr. Dill both that very day—nobody can't rent common sense nor yet keep track of men's washouts 'n' horses' hind legs. I knowed all the time I was walkin' towards the crick that it was goin' to be a bad business, but I never expected to see nothin' as looked like Mr. Dill's horse, 'n' I never again shall hope to see nothin' as 'll look like Mr. Dill's looks as he looked at the horse. Not as his horse was n't worth lookin' at either. His legs had gone out behind so far 'n' so unexpected that it seemed like he could n't get them high enough 'n' close enough to suit him, 'n' he just stood there drawin' them up alternate for all the world like a fly on fly-paper. Mr. Dill said he felt like if his horse was n't ever goin' to be able to h'ist his legs no quicker'n that he 'd have to have damages, 'n' at that word I nigh to sat right down. I tell you what, Mrs. Lathrop, Mr. Weskin has bred this damage idea too deep into this town for any comfort. It 's got to where it's better to hurt yourself most any way than to damage some one else only a little. I would n't take the chances of sayin' 'shoo' to a hen on a slippery mornin', 'n' things has come to a pretty pass when you 've got to consider a hen's back-slidin's. Such bein' the case I felt more 'n a little troubled when Mr. Dill said damages, but I tried to look on the bright side, 'n' I told him that it seemed to me that a proper-minded horse would have hauled in his legs when he felt himself slippin' in half. Mr. Dill said his horse unfortunately could n't see with his tail 'n' was also brought up to consider anvils as solid. I answered as all I could say was as it was a great pity as his horse was n't built enough like the rest of the world to have better hindsight than foresight,—'n' then I looked at the anvil in the crick—'n' then I come home."

"'N' that—" said Mrs. Lathrop, sadly.

"Yes, that very night!—it was that very night that the lightnin' struck my house"—Susan halted a moment to turn and look at the house. "I never will see why the lightnin' had to strike my house, Mrs. Lathrop, with yours so handy right next door; but it did strike it—'n' me inside sleepin' the sleep of the nigh to poverty-stricken 'n' done-up, 'n' never as much as dreamin' of bein' woke by a brick bouncin' out of my own flesh 'n' blood stove-hole. My heavens alive! what a night that was, 'n' even if nothin' catched fire everythin' in kingdom come rained in, 'n' when mornin' come 'n' I see what a small hole it was after all I would n't ever have believed it if you 'd swore it till the week after doomsday."

"And then—" said Mrs. Lathrop, sympathetically.

"Yes, 'n' then come the roof-mendin'. I never can feel to blame myself there because I did n't want to pay no carpenter, 'n' you know yourself, Mrs. Lathrop, as it looked just as easy to get up on that roof as to fall off any other. I hung the shingles around my neck 'n' put the nails in my mouth 'n' the hammer down my back, 'n' then I went up the lattice 'n' got over the little window on to the ridge-pole. You know, Mrs. Lathrop, how simple it all seemed from the ground, 'n' I was to just sit edgeways from the end of the peak right along up to the hole, but you 've heard me remark afore 'n' I will now remark again as no one on the ground has any notion of ridge-poles as they really are. A ridge-pole from the ground, Mrs. Lathrop, looks like it could n't be fell off, but from itself it feels like it could n't be stuck on to, 'n' I thought I 'd swallow the last one of them nails gaspin' afore I got to the hole. You saw me tryin' to get to the hole, Mrs. Lathrop, 'n' then you saw me tryin' to get the hammer. I thought I 'd go somer-settin' head over heels afore I got it fished out 'n' then there was n't no place to lay it down!

"Well, Mrs. Lathrop, I never shall be able to look back on that day and hour without a cold conscience. It was certainly a awful time. I took a nail out of my mouth 'n' a shingle off my neck 'n' made ready to begin. I took the hammer 'n'—just then—I looked down—'n' if there was n't the minister 'n' his wife just turnin' in my gate!

"Well, of course, that came nigh to endin' me ever 'n' ever! No Christian would ever dream of answering her front-door bell from her back ridge-pole, 'n' I never was one to do nothin' as folks could talk of. I see it was do or die right then or there 'n' I made a quick slide for the porch roof. You know what happened, 'n' I never have felt to forgive the minister, even if it was n't him as drove that unexpected nail in my roof. Mrs. Lathrop, we 've spoke of this afore, 'n' I 've said then, 'n' I 'll say now, that in spite of my likin' for you, no one as rocks forever on a cushion can be able to even surmise what it is to slide quick over a unexpected nail, 'n' so it was only natural that even in the first hour I never looked for anything from you but Pond's Extract. But I may remark further—for it 's right you should know—that nothin' in my whole life ever rasped me worse the wrong way of my hair than to watch you rockin' that fortnight that I had my choice to stand up or go to bed, 'n' even in bed I had to get up 'n' get out if I wanted to turn over. Mr. Shores told Mrs. Macy as probably it was the sun as had drawed that nail, 'n' all I can say is that I hope if it was the sun 'n' he ever takes it into his head to draw another of my nails, that he 'll either draw it completely out or leave it completely in, for I know as I never want to come down from another ridge-pole by way of another nail—not while I 'm alive anyhow."

A short pause and a long sigh. Mrs. Lathrop sighed, too.

"Then come the bill from the carpenter 'n' from young Doctor Brown, 'n' for raisin' the anvil, 'n' I was hardly onto my legs before Mr. Dill's horse quit his hind ones. Mr. Weskin was up 'n' doin' as usual 'n' advised bringin' a joint suit with the blacksmith for the anvil 'n' me for the crick, but even if I was helpless the blacksmith wa' n't goin' to be sued if he could do anything else, 'n' he brung Mr. Dill up to see if we could n't arbitrate ourselves. Mr. Dill 's always been very nice to me, but that wheat-fly made him so mad to be paid something by somebody that it took the blacksmith 'n' me and four glasses of root beer to bring him to reason. In the end he said if the blacksmith would shoe everything he owned till it died 'n' if I would put up Lucy's currants till I died that he 'd call them two legs straight. We wrote a paper 'n' signed it 'n' I went to bed, 'n' seemed like my trials were certainly more than any mortal could stand under, particularly when you consider that a good deal of the time I had n't been able to sit down.

"I don't see why any one should be surprised over me lookin' worried. It says in the Bible that if you 'n' Mohamet ain't on the mountain you 're bound to have the mountain 'n' Mohamet both on you, 'n' I must say I believe it's true. I 've had to take the ten dollars as I never touch, 'n' the ten as I never will touch, 'n' the ten as I never will touch so help me Heaven—'n' spend 'em all. 'N' I don't know what I am goin' to do now, I 'm sure. Bein' yourself, Mrs. Lathrop, you can't in reason be expected to understand what it is to me to have no one but you to turn to. You 've got your good points, but you ain't no hand to have ideas nor yet to advise. I 've been slow in comin' to that view of you, but I 've got to it at last, 'n' got over it, 'n' I 'm walkin' alone now on the further side."

Mrs. Lathrop looked apologetic, but remained tritely silent. Susan backed away from the fence.

"It 's gettin' damp," she said; "you 've got rheumatism anyway, so you don't care if you take cold, but I ain't very anxious to, 'n' so I think we 'd ought to go in."

Mrs. Lathrop nodded, and turned to go.

"I hope I have n't made you feel uneasy, Mrs. Lathrop," Susan said, as she also turned; "you know me well enough to know as if I come to starvation it would never be nothin' but a joy to me to see you starve with me."

Mrs. Lathrop nodded.

Susan nodded.

And thus they parted for the night.

GRAN'MA MULLINS'S WOE

It was some days later—a summer afternoon. The setting sun was brightening the western sky, and Susan, with her bonnet on and her sun-shade leaning beside her, sat on Mrs. Lathrop's porch and discoursed in a fashion that partook alternately of the lively and of the dejected. Mrs. Lathrop rocked calmly and listened yet more so.

"Things is goin' worse 'n' worse," said the caller; "I 've had to bring myself down to doin' my own weedin', so as to save that ten cents a week I give Augustus, 'n' Lord knows I 'd gladly put up anything for anybody, but everybody in this town puts up themselves. I don't know how I will get along if suthin' don't turn up, 'n' I can't see what can turn up with every one head over ears deep in the weddin's 'n' young Doctor Brown settin' the whole town mad over the crick. That 's a very strange thing about the crick, Mrs. Lathrop, 'n' it seems to be pretty generally admitted now that inside or out the crick 's good for most anything in anybody, but this new idea as it 's a sure cure for asthma is just doin' folks up alive. Young Doctor Brown says he's been investigatin' under his own microscope, 'n' he says there ain't a doubt but the crick polliwogs can eat up the asthma polliwogs as fast as you can shake 'em together in a bottle. He 's goin' to Meadville 'n' shake 'em up for old Doctor Carter, 'n' then he 's goin' to send to the city for a pint of typhoid fever 'n' a half-pint of diphtheria 'n' let 'em loose on that. Mr. Kimball asked him if he was positive which side was doin' the swallowin' 'n' if he had the crick ones wear a band on their left arms when they went into battle, but young Doctor Brown explained as there could n't be no mistake, for asthma has got four claws in its tail and the crick has horns all over. Mrs. Macy says, under them circumstances she shall make her tea with boiled rain-water hereafter, 'n' she says she ain't sure as she 's got enough faith left in the crick to even scrub with it."

"If I—" said Mrs. Lathrop.

"Gran'ma Mullins is a good deal upset," said Susan; "she don't like the notion of young Doctor Brown's bringin' so much typhoid and diphtheria into town just as Hiram 's goin' to get married a tall. She says she 's got enough to worry over about Hiram without that. She says she 's feelin' worse over him every day. She can't talk about it without chokin'. She says she 's got his rattle and his first sock pinned up by the clock, so every time she looks up at the time she can see 'em 'n' cry again. She says it ain't in reason as Lucy 'll ever understand Hiram. She says Hiram 's a very singular disposition, but if you always ask him to do what you don't want done 'n' to never do what 's got to be done right off he 's one of the handiest men around the house as she ever see. She says he eats a lot of sugar 'n' you must n't notice it, 'cause he always says as he never does; and he most never goes to church, but you must n't tell him so, 'cause he says he goes regular, 'n' she says as he likes to keep molasses candy in his pockets 'n' under his pillow, 'n' heaven knows, likin' molasses candy ain't no crime, and yet she 's almost sure Lucy 's goin' to make his life miserable over it. She says her cup was full enough without no pint of diphtheria added, 'n' I d'n know as I ever see any one more downhearted. Mrs. Macy 'n' me stayed and shook our heads with her for a while 'n' then we went on t Mrs. Allen's to look at Polly's weddin' things. Every one in town is goin' to look at Polly's weddin' things, 'n' you 'd really suppose as the deacon was any one in the world but the deacon to see how they 've fixed Polly up to marry him. Four of everythin' 'n' six o' some. Only not a apron in the whole,—the deacon would n't have it. He said right out as he wa'n't marryin' Polly to work her to skin 'n' bone, and he knows how he wants his house kept 'n' his cookin' done, so he 'll just keep on keepin' 'n' cookin' as usual. He 's fixed up a good deal; the canary bird 's got a brass hook after all these years o' wooden-peggin', 'n' he 's bought one o' them new style doormats made out o' wire with 'Welcome P. W.' let into it in green marbles. 'P. W.' stands for 'Polly White,' 'n' Mr. Kimball told Mr. Macy they had a awful time over sticking the marbles in 'n' a awful time gettin' the letters to suit. The deacon was for 'P. W.' all along 'n' Polly was for the deacon, but Mrs. Allen was for Polly's name, because Polly ain't married yet, 'n' they got P. A. stuck in afore any one knowed how it'd look, 'n' then they tried to patch it up with a 'W' added 'n' that seemed like it was a new way to say to be sure 'n' wipe your feet. Mr. Kimball told Mrs. Macy he nigh to died laughin', 'n' he did n't mind how he broke his nails pickin' marbles in 'n' out when he could have so much fun. So they settled for 'P. W.,' 'n' Mrs. Macy 's more than a little bitter over it all, for she says the deacon 'll soon come to his senses 'n' then it'll be too late to get that 'P. W.' off of his door-mat again. But the deacon ain't carin'. He's friskin' around like a colt, 'n' they say he 's got two new suits of clothes 'n' a new hat for the goin' away. He was always that way though—I recolleck Mr. Kimball's sayin' when Mrs. White died that the deacon had been dyein' his hair 'n' bein' patient for over fifteen years.

"Well—about them weddin' things of Polly's!—Mrs. Allen took me upstairs 'n' I saw 'em all. The weddin' veil is looped along the lamberquin with a glove pinned to each curtain, the dress hangs on a frame between against the window shade, 'n' the under things is folded on a table at one side with the stockin's tied together in a true lovers'-knot. I must say they 've done it all real tasty, with the deacon's picture in the middle leanin' up against her shoes. It 's a open question about the shoes still, 'cause if Polly wears any shoes a tall it only makes her that much more higher than the deacon, but Mrs. Allen says, seein' as it 's as it is, she hopes Polly 'll only think o' how the higher her heels is the more room it 'll give her train to spread. It 's a very handsome train 'n' they 've measured so 's it 'll make the next set o' parlor curtains at the Whites'.

"I declare, Mrs. Lathrop, I can't tell you how all these weddin's 'n' talkin's do blue me up! To see every one spendin' money 'n' me without any even to save. Mr. Dill asked me yesterday if I did n't want to take Gran'ma Mullins to board for the honeymoon, an' I suppose I could maybe do it, but oh my! I can't say as I take to that idea much. I 'm fond o' Gran'ma Mullins, but these days Hiram is nothin' but a bottomless pit when she gets at him, 'n' a honeymoon is a long time to hear one person talk about one person. I can 't say as I ever had anythin' again Hiram except that time 't he did n't catch Jathrop to lynch him, but all the same I ain't over fond o' any one as goes around with their mouth half-open the year through. Mr. Kimball said once as Hiram Mullins was the best design for a penny bank as he ever saw, 'n' Polly Allen says she 's more 'n sorry for Lucy, 'cause no matter how hard Lucy was to try, Polly says it stands to reason as she could n't get more 'n half a kiss at once. Mrs. Allen giggled, 'n' we all did, too, 'cause the deacon carries his mouth so tight shut that it's a question if Polly ever gets a kiss a tall.

"Mrs. Brown says Doctor Brown is gettin' surer 'n' surer about the crick. He 's been paintin' the cat with asthma 'n' then washin' him in crick water, 'n' Mrs. Brown says he wa'n't dead up to the time he run away anyhow."

"That big—" queried Mrs. Lathrop.

"Yes, with the yellow eyes. He 's been gone a week, but they don't care. Mrs. Brown says that cat was so everlastin'ly around that he made her feel like she was married again, 'n' she was glad to have him light out. She says he was so like a man it was awful,—wantin' to sit by the fire 'n' think till you was dyin' to empty the tea-kettle over his head, 'n' forever placidly yawnin' when you was turned a hundred ends at once. Mrs. Brown says Amelia 's goin' to give a wash-cloth shower for Polly and Lucy day after to-morrow. She says young Doctor Brown says if he comes out on top about that crick-cure for asthma Amelia can do anythin' she pleases. He says this town 'll be a real cure then, 'n' we 'll see no end of money flow into us,—she says he says we can all take boarders at fancy prices 'n' serve 'em to the crick at a penny a glass. I don't know but what I might take a few quiet boarders myself that way. They 'd be quiet because they could n't be lively, 'n' the asthma 'd choke 'em to where they could n't eat much."

"I—" said Mrs. Lathrop.

"I could have 'Liza Em'ly to help me, I presume. I could advertise 'n' when they answered I could go in town 'n' look at them and take my pick. I 'd want to be sure as they were quiet, 'n' I 'd want to be sure as they were sick—I would n't take no chances at havin' one o' these merry-go-round summer families land on me, I know. Like as not there 'd be a boy, 'n' you know yourself, Mrs. Lathrop, that while a boy may perhaps accidentally happen to be a comfort he 's very much more likely just to be a boy."

"Yes," said Mrs. Lathrop—"I—"

"Yes, o' course," said Susan, "'n' look where he come out! If Jathrop had been a girl how different everything would have been for him—not to speak o' the rest of us. You can't deny that, Mrs. Lathrop, 'n' you can't deny either as Jathrop would have been better off himself if he 'd been any other thing as God ever made."

"He—" said the mother.

"You thought so," said Susan, "but nobody else ever did. Mothers is always mothers 'n' the best will in the world don't seem able to help 'em out o' the scrape. There's Gran'ma Mullins just cryin' her eyes out these days over Hiram, 'n' you 'd think Lucy was a sea-serpent and Hiram was chained to a rock to hear her go on. She says she 's raised Hiram so careful to be a comfort to her all these years 'n' she says he promised her when he was only two 'n' a half years old that he 'd never smoke nor drink nor get married. She says she 's trusted him all his life 'n' this is the first time as he ever broke his word to her. She says all his little ways is just so sweet, but she feels sure Lucy won't never let him dip his bread in the platter-gravy 'n' Hiram 's so awful fond of platter-gravy. She says he likes to have the potato-smasher right by his place at the table 'n' pound the meat to make more juice come out, 'n' she says it 's been nothin' but a joy to her always to let him, 'cause his father died when he wa'n't but eleven months old. But she says she just knows Lucy 'll be death on Hiram's potato-smasher, 'n' she says she most feels as if Lucy was goin' to be death on Hiram, too. She says she can't look at Hiram these days without chokin' over thinkin' how Lucy 's goin' to look at him inside o' three months. She says Hiram 's a very tender nature, he can't be hurried awake mornin's, 'n' if he wakes up in the night he has to have gingerbread 'n' whistle till he drops off to sleep again. She says no one as really loved Hiram would mind such little trifles as that, but she says she has her doubts as to Lucy's really lovin' Hiram, 'n' even if she does really love him now, she says it ain't no reason as she 'll keep on lovin' him long. She says time alone 'll tell what the end 'll be, 'n' she only hopes 'n' prays that whatever Lucy does or does n't do, that she 'll never forget as she was well 'n' richly warned beforehand, for she says she went herself in streamin' tears 'n' begged her not to marry Hiram, an' she 's kept straight on till now she 's almost done it."

Susan ceased speaking and took up her parasol.

"Are—" remonstrated Mrs. Lathrop.

"I must," said her neighbor; "I 'm hungry 'n' I want time to beat up some soda-biscuit. It 's no use your askin' me to stay to supper, because my heart is set on soda-biscuit 'n' I like my own better than any one could ever like yours. I don't say that unkindly, Mrs. Lathrop, for I ain't got a unkind thing about me, 'n' I could n't lay anything up against you even if I wanted to. Even when I get all at outs with you over your rockin' I never lay it up against you—we 've been friends too many years. If you can be happy rockin' through life till some fine day you rock over backward into your coffin, all I can say is that it won't be my funeral, 'n' bein' as it will be yours, I shall be too busy that day to fuss over ifs 'n' ands. I 'm keepin' the board 'n' saw-horses as father had for you, 'n' the black bow from his door-bell, too, 'n' after you 're done with them I 'm intendin' to give them to the first needy 'n' deservin' person as comes along in need of 'em."

Susan started down the steps.

"But—" protested Mrs. Lathrop.

"Probably not," said her friend, "but you never can tell. Anyhow I 'm goin' now. You don't appear to consider how valuable my time is, Mrs. Lathrop, but that 's another thing as I don't lay up against you."

For the next week Miss Clegg's financial difficulties rubbed on in much the same way. So did the wedding preparations of Polly Allen and Lucy Dill. Debts and dates are two things which are famous for movement, and in between her periods of repose in her own house and of activity about town Susan seized every chance possible to impart the impending state of every one's affairs to her neighbor.

"The blacksmith was up again last night," she said one sunny morning, when the need of hanging out her wash had brought her and Mrs. Lathrop within conversational distance; "he wants to have his rent a little lowered so as he can bric-à-brac the side of the crick himself. He says there 's stones enough to do it, only he must hire a man to help him. I told him I 'd consider it, 'n' goin' out in the dark he fell over the scraper. I declare I got a damage-suit chill right down my spine 'n' I run out with a candle, 'n', thank heaven, he had n't broke nothin' but the scraper. I 've been wonderin' if it would pay to sue him for that, but I don't believe I will, because folks has been fallin' over it ever since father nailed it to the front o' the step so 's to let his pet weasel go back 'n' forth at the side. The weasel 's been dead for ages, but the scraper 's never been changed. I wish I could remember that weasel. Father loved him 'n' mother hated him,—she said she was always findin' him asleep in her shoes and sleeves. I was speakin' about it to Gran'ma Mullins to-day 'n' she said she remembered comin' to tea at mother's once 'n' their findin' the weasel in the tea-pot. I guess that's the first time Gran'ma Mullins has spoken of any livin' soul but Hiram in six months. She 's feelin' worse than ever over Lucy's decidin' to be married at home on account o' the blue bengaline. She says that's a extra turn o' the ice-cream-freezer handle as she never counted on havin' to submit to. She says she naturally supposed if Hiram got married as she 'd sit in the front pew for once in her life, 'n' see the bride's dress good, 'n' hear the answers plain, 'n' now instid her only child, as she 's loved like a mother ever since he was born, is goin' to be married in a parlor as private as if he was bein' buried from the smallpox! She says, oh dear, oh dear, seems like she never will be able to live down that mirror as she smashed with her head the first time she saw what she looked like. She says she wa'n't more 'n nine months old 'n' yet that mirror has tagged her right through life ever since. She says she missed all her school examinations 'n' did n't get the deacon 'n' did get her husband, 'n' as if that wa'n't enough she must needs lose her husband, 'n' she 's had no choice but to be a widow ever since, 'n' she 's been sprained in all directions 'n' been broke in all directions 'n' her mince-meat 'most always ferments 'n' Hiram 's been her one bright spot 'n' now he 's got to get married in a parlor. She says the worst is as it would draw bread right out of a stone to see how cheerful Hiram is these days,—she says any one would suppose as Lucy Dill was goin' to surely make him happy to see how he goes smilin' around. She says it 's one of the most pathetikest sights as she ever see to watch Hiram markin' off the days on his calendar, 'n' she cried when she told me. She says no one need n't tell her as there 's any one else like Hiram, for she knows him well enough to know as it could n't possibly be true. And then she cried again. I tell you what, Mrs. Lathrop, I may be pretty well churned up over my money troubles, but I can assure you as I feel like a monkey jumpin' through three rings at once beside Gran'ma Mullins. Mrs. Macy says that when Hiram goes to see Lucy you can hear her sobbin' way to the crick,—Mrs. Macy says the first night she thought it was Mr. Jilkins comin' into town with a hot wheel. I would n't be surprised myself to see Gran'ma Mullins drop dead when she hears Lucy get Hiram for better for worse. It 's awful to see a mother suffer so. I don't see how Hiram stands it. If I was him 'n' she had a stroke at my wedding I should call it a stroke o' luck 'n' nothin' else. Not that I don't feel kindly disposed towards Gran'ma Mullins, but I 'm pretty tired hearin' her tale o' woe. Other folks' troubles is generally more interestin' to other folks than they are to me, and besides, if it really comes to talkin' of troubles, nobody ain't got no more to talk about than I have myself. This money question is nippin' me sharper in the calves every day, and when Mrs. Macy told me yesterday as her steps was givin' out I felt like sittin' down on 'em when they done it. Lord knows, I 'd never be one to wave my flag from no post-hole in the thick of no flight, 'n' you know yourself, Mrs. Lathrop, that as a general thing I keep a stiff upper-cut through black and blue, but still if Mrs. Macy's steps really do break down I feel like I shall have no choice but to Jack-and-Jill it after 'em."

"Maybe—" suggested Mrs. Lathrop, hopefully.

"Well, I ain't a-expectin' it anyhow. I 'm expectin' ruin, 'n' I can hear it howlin' and nosin' around my house all night long. Somethin' was swimmin' in the cistern last night, too,—if it made the other side safe I 'm all right, but if it drowned there 'll be another bill. It ain't no use your tryin' to cheer me up, Mrs. Lathrop, because I ain't to be cheered. I know I 'm goin' to the poorhouse, 'n' I don't thank you nor no other man for tellin' me to my face as what I know ain't so. Gran'ma Mullins 'n' me is two very sad hearts these days, 'n' Heaven help us both. To hear her talk you 'd think the Siamese twins was the sun and moon apart compared to her 'n' Hiram, 'n' now she 's got to give him up to Lucy Dill. She says Lucy ain't old enough to appreciate Hiram; she says Lucy 'll expect Hiram to be pleased, 'n' Hiram ain't never pleased; she says when Hiram keeps still 'n' don't say nothin' he's pleased, 'n' when he goes to bed 'n' to sleep right off he 's real pleased. She says Lucy won't understand, 'n' then there 'll be trouble. She says trouble is a awful thing to have, 'n' she knows all about it 'cause she had it with her husband. She says the only good o' havin' trouble with your husband is the comfort you get out o' talkin' about it, 'n' that when she thinks as Lucy 'll get her comfort out o' talkin' about Hiram she pretty nearly gets up and goes right out of her mind."

Susan stopped suddenly; she had been standing with her basket in her hand, in the attitude of one arrested for a moment's inquiry, throughout this conversation.

"Did you—" said Mrs. Lathrop.

"Yes, I did. It was n't no great joy, pinched as I am, but I believe in doin' what you can for people gettin' married—God help 'em—'n' I give 'em each somethin'. I give Lucy a very good pair of scissors as mother had, as always grabs me in the joint so I can't use 'em, 'n' I give Polly our best carvin' knife. They was both sharp things, so they each had to give me a cent to hold on to friendship. I know two cents ain't much, but it 's better 'n nothin', 'n' I may tell you in confidence, Mrs. Lathrop, as all my presents 'll be sharp right along from now on."

Mrs. Lathrop raised her eyebrows to testify to the acute perception which had grasped her friend's point at once.

"Are you—" she asked presently.

"Goin' to the weddin's?—oh, yes. It may make me a little blue to look at Lucy, but it could n't but cheer anybody to compare themselves with Gran'ma Mullins. She says it 's goin' to half murder her, 'n' she 's made Hiram promise as he 'll give her his first husband's kiss. Lucy 's got the idea as she 'll have a weddin' procession o' Mr. Dill 'n' her, an' Hiram 'n' his mother, down the stairs 'n' in through the back parlor. Hiram don't want to, 'cause he 's afraid his mother won't let go of him when the time comes. Hiram says he ain't lived through these last weeks o' half stranglin' without knowin' what he 's talkin' about all right, but Lucy 's dead set on the procession. They 're goin' to try 'n' keep Polly 'n' the deacon a little back 'n' out o' sight, 'cause there 's a many as thinks as half o' Gran'ma Mullins's tears is for the deacon, only she can't say so. Mrs. Allen says every one is talkin' that idea, 'n' Mrs. Sperrit says she hopes to Heaven as it ain't so, for how the deacon is to be kept a little back God only knows, for he 's so happy these days that he 's more than ever everlastin'ly on tap. Mrs. Sperrit 's been very kind; she 's goin' to take Gran'ma Mullins to the Dills', 'n' she says she 'll take her home afterwards. Gran'ma Mullins is goin' to carry ammonia 'n' camphor, 'n' be sure an' have the corks out of 'em both."

"I wish—" said Mrs. Lathrop.

"Yes, I do, too," said her friend, heartily, "but I 'll come 'n' tell you about them both right afterwards. I d'n know as I was ever more curious in my life than I am to see how Lucy is going to claw Hiram free long enough to marry him. 'N' I 'm interested in Polly's weddin', too. But there is no use deceivin' you as to one thing, Mrs. Lathrop, 'n' that is as what interests me the most of all, is what under the sun I 'm goin' to do myself to get some money. I can't live on bread 'n' water alone, 'n' even if I could, the flour 'll soon give out if I bread it along steady for very long. I 've got to get some money somehow, 'n' I 've about made up my mind as to what I 'll have to do. It makes me sick to think of it, 'cause I hate him so, but I guess I 'll have to come to it in the end. I 'll go to the weddin's, 'n' then I 'll brace up 'n' make the leap."

Mrs. Lathrop looked perturbed—even slightly anxious.

"I 'm sorry not to be able to tell you all my plans," Miss Clegg continued, "but—"

She stopped suddenly—a train-whistle had sounded afar.

"My heavens alive! if that ain't to-day's ten-o'clock comin' from Meadville, 'n' me solemnly promised to be at Lucy's at half-past nine to help Mrs. Macy stone raisins! Well, Mrs. Lathrop, I would n't have believed it of you if I had n't been a eyewitness!—"

LUCY DILL'S WEDDING

"Well, Lucy has got Hiram!"

There was such a strong inflection of triumphant joy in Miss Clegg's voice as she called the momentous news to her friend that it would have been at once—and most truthfully—surmised that the getting of Hiram had been a more than slight labor.

Mrs. Lathrop was waiting by the fence, impatience written with a wandering reflection all over the serenity of her every-day expression. Susan only waited to lay aside her bonnet and mitts and then hastened to the fence herself.

"Mrs. Lathrop, you never saw nor heard the like of this weddin' day in all your own ays to be or to come, 'n' I don't suppose there ever will be anything like it again, for Lucy Dill did n't cut no figger in her own weddin' a tall,—the whole thing was Gran'ma Mullins first, last 'n' forever hereafter. I tell you it looked once or twice as if it would n't be a earthly possibility to marry Hiram away from his mother, 'n' now that it 's all over people can't do anything but say as after all Lucy ought to consider herself very lucky as things turned out, for if things had n't turned out as they did turn out I don't believe anything on earth could have unhooked that son, 'n' I 'm willin' to swear that anywhere to any one.

"Do you know, Mrs. Lathrop, that Gran'ma Mullins was so bad off last night as they had to put a mustard plaster onto her while Hiram went to see Lucy for the last time, 'n' Mrs. Macy says as she never hear the beat o' her memory, for she says she 'll take her Bible oath as Gran'ma Mullins told her what Hiram said 'n' done every minute o' his life while he was gone to see Lucy Dill. 'N' she cried, too, 'n' took on the whole time she was talkin' 'n' said Heaven help her, for nobody else could, 'n' she just knowed Lucy 'd get tired o' Hiram's story 'n' he can't be happy a whole day without he tells it, 'n' she 's most sure Lucy won't like his singin' 'Marchin' Through Georgia' after the first month or two, 'n' it 's the only tune as Hiram has ever really took to. Mrs. Macy says she soon found she could n't do nothin' to stem the tide except to drink tea 'n' listen, so she drank an' listened till Hiram come home about eleven. Oh, my, but she says they had the time then! Gran'ma Mullins let him in herself, 'n' just as soon as he was in she bu'st into floods of tears 'n' would n't let him loose under no consideration. She says Hiram managed to get his back to the wall for a brace 'cause Gran'ma Mullins nigh to upset him every fresh time as Lucy come over her, 'n' Mrs. Macy says she could n't but wonder what the end was goin' to be when, toward midnight, Hiram just lost patience 'n' dodged out under her arm 'n' ran up the ladder to the roof-room 'n' they could n't get him to come down again. She says when Gran'ma Mullins realized as he would n't come down she most went mad over the notion of her only son's spendin' the Christmas Eve to his own weddin' sleepin' on the floor o' the attic 'n' she wanted to poke the cot up to him, but Mrs. Macy says she drew the line at cot-pokin' when the cot was all she 'd have to sleep on herself, 'n' in the end they poked quilts up, 'n' pillows, 'n' doughnuts 'n' cider 'n' blankets, 'n' Hiram made a very good bed on the floor 'n' they all got to sleep about three o'clock.

"Well, Mrs. Lathrop, what do you think? What do you think? They was so awful tired that none of 'em woke till Mrs. Sperrit come at eleven next day to take 'em to the weddin'! Mrs. Macy says she hopes she 'll be put forward all her back-slidin's if she ever gets such a start again. She says when she peeked out between the blinds 'n' see Mrs. Sperrit's Sunday bonnet 'n' realized her own state she nearly had a fit. Mrs. Sperrit had to come in 'n' be explained to, 'n' the worst of it was as Hiram could n't be woke no-how. He 'd pulled the ladder up after him 'n' put the lid on the hole so 's to feel safe, 'n' there he was snug as a bug in a rug 'n' where no human bein' could get at him. They hollered 'n' banged doors 'n' sharpened the carvin' knife an' poured grease on the stove 'n' did anything they could think of, but he never budged. Mrs. Macy says she never was so close to beside herself in all her life before, for Gran'ma Mullins cried worse 'n ever each minute, 'n' Hiram seemed like the very dead could n't wake him.

"They was all hoppin' around half crazy when Mr. Sperrit come along on his way to the weddin' 'n' his wife run out 'n' told him what was the matter 'n' he come right in 'n' looked up at the matter. It did n't take long for him to unsettle Hiram, Mrs. Macy says. He got a sulphur candle 'n' tied it to a stick 'n' h'isted the lid with another stick, 'n' in less 'n two minutes they could all hear Hiram sneezin' an' comin' to. 'N' Mrs. Macy says when they hollered what time it was she wishes the whole town might have been there to see Hiram Mullins come down to earth. Mr. Sperrit did n't hardly have time to get out o' the way 'n' he did n't give his mother no show for one single grab,—he just bounced into his room 'n' you could have heard him gettin' dressed on the far side o' the far bridge.

"O' course, us at Lucy's did n't know anythin' a tall about Mrs. Macy's troubles. We had our own, Heaven help us, 'n' they was enough, for the very first thing of all Mr. Dill caught his pocket on the corner of Mrs. Dill 'n' come within a ace of pullin' her off her easel. That would have been a pretty beginnin' to Lucy's weddin' day if her father had smashed her mother's glass to bits, I guess, but it could n't have made Lucy any worse; for I will say, Mrs. Lathrop, as I never see no one in all my born life act foolisher than Lucy Dill this day. First she 'd laugh 'n' then she 'd cry 'n' then she 'd lose suthin' as we 'd got to have to work with. 'N' when it come to dressin' her!—well, if she 'd known as Hiram was sleepin' a sleep as next to knowed no wakin' she could n't have put on more things wrong side out an' hind side before! She was n't dressed till most every one was there 'n' I was gettin' pretty anxious, for Hiram was n't there neither, 'n' the more fidgety people got the more they caught their corners on Mrs. Dill. I just saved her from Mr. Kimball, 'n' Amelia saw her goin' as a result o' Judge Fitch 'n' hardly had time for a jump. The minister himself was beginnin' to cough when, all of a sudden, some one cried as the Sperrits was there.

"Well, we all squeezed to the window, 'n' such a sight you never saw. They was gettin' Gran'ma Mullins out 'n' Hiram was tryin' to keep her from runnin' the color of his cravat all down his shirt while she was sobbin' 'Hi-i-i-i-ram, Hi-i-i-i-i-ram', in a voice as would wring your very heart dry. They got her out 'n' got her in an' got her upstairs, 'n' we all sat down 'n' begin to get ready while Amelia played 'Lead, Kindly Light' and 'The Joyous Farmer' alternate, 'cause she'd mislaid her Weddin' March.

"Well, Mrs. Lathrop, you never knowed nothin' like it!—we waited, 'n' we waited, 'n' we waited, 'n' the minister most coughed himself into consumption, 'n' Mrs. Dill got caught on so often that Mr. Kimball told Ed to stand back of her 'n' hold her to the easel every minute. Amelia was just beginning over again for the seventeenth time when at last we heard 'em bumpin' along downstairs. Seems as all the delay come from Lucy's idea o' wantin' to walk with her father 'n' have a weddin' procession, instid o' her 'n' Hiram comin' in together like Christians 'n' lettin' Mr. Dill hold Gran'ma Mullins up anywhere. Polly says she never see such a time as they had of it; she says fightin' wolves was layin' lambs beside the way they talked. Hiram said frank 'n' open as the reason he did n't want to walk in with his mother was he was sure she would n't let him out to get married, but Lucy was dead set on the procession idea. So in the end they done it so, 'n' Gran'ma Mullins's sobs fairly shook the house as they come through the dinin'-room door. Lucy was first with her father 'n' they both had their heads turned backward lookin' at Hiram 'n' his mother.

"Well, Mrs. Lathrop, it was certainly a sight worth seein'! The way that Gran'ma Mullins was glued on! All I can say is as octopuses has got their backs turned in comparison to the way that Hiram seemed to be all wrapped up in her. It looked like wild horses, not to speak of Lucy Dill, would n't never be able to get him loose enough to marry him. The minister was scared; we was all scared. I never see a worse situation to be in.

"They come along through the back parlor, Lucy lookin' back, Mr. Dill white as a sheet, 'n' Hiram walkin' like a snow-plough as is n't sure how long it can keep on makin' it. It seemed like a month as they was under way before they finally got stopped in front o' the minister. 'N' then come the time! Hiram had to step beside Lucy 'n' take her hand 'n' he could n't! We all just gasped. There was Hiram tryin' to get loose 'n' Mr. Dill tryin' to help him. Gran'ma Mullins's tears dripped till you could hear 'em, but she hung on to Hiram like he 'd paid for it. They worked like Trojan beavers, but as fast as they 'd get one side of him uncovered she 'd take a fresh wind-round. I tell you, we all just held our breath, 'n' I bet Lucy was sorry she persisted in havin' a procession when she see the perspiration runnin' off her father 'n' poor Hiram.

"Finally Polly got frightened 'n' begun to cry, 'n' at that the deacon put his arm around her 'n' give her a hug, an' Gran'ma Mullins looked up just in time to see the arm 'n' the hug. It seemed like it was the last hay in the donkey, for she give a weak screech 'n' went right over on Mr. Dill. She had such a grip on Hiram that if it had n't been for Lucy he 'd have gone over, too, but Lucy just hung on herself that time, 'n' Hiram was rescued without nothin' worse than his hair mussed 'n' one sleeve a little tore. Mr. Sperrit 'n' Mr. Jilkins carried Gran'ma Mullins into the dinin'-room, 'n' I said to just leave her fainted till after we 'd got Hiram well 'n' truly married; so they did.

"I never see the minister rattle nothin' through like that marriage-service. Every one was on whole papers of pins 'n' needles, 'n' the minute it was over every one just felt like sittin' right straight down.

"Mrs. Macy 'n' me went up 'n' watered Gran'ma Mullins till we brought her to, 'n' when she learned as it was all done she picked up wonderful 'n' felt as hungry as any one, 'n' come downstairs 'n' kissed Lucy 'n' caught a corner on Mrs. Dill just like she 'd never been no trouble to no one from first to last. I never see such a sudden change in all my life; it was like some miracle had come out all over her 'n' there was n't no one there as was n't rejoiced to death.

"We all went out in the dinin'-room 'n' the sun shone in 'n' every one laughed over nothin' a tall. Mrs. Sperrit pinned Hiram up from inside so his tear did n't show, 'n' Lucy 'n' he set side by side 'n' looked like no one was ever goin' to ever be married again. Polly 'n' the deacon set opposite 'n' the minister 'n' his wife 'n' Mr. Dill 'n' Gran'ma Mullins made up the table. The rest stood around, 'n' we was all as lively as words can tell. The cake was one o' the handsomest as I ever see, two pigeons peckin' a bell on top 'n' Hiram 'n' Lucy runnin' around below in pink. There was a dime inside 'n' a ring, an' I got the dime, 'n' they must have forgot to put in the ring for no one got it."

Susan paused and panted.

"It was—" commented Mrs. Lathrop, thoughtfully.

"Nice that I got the dime?—yes, I should say. There certainly was n't no one there as needed it worse, 'n', although I 'd never be one to call a dime a fortune, still it is a dime, 'n' no one can't deny it the honor, no matter how they feel. But, Mrs. Lathrop, what you 'd ought to have seen was Hiram 'n' Lucy ready to go off. I bet no one knows they 're brides—I bet no one knows what they are,—you never saw the like in all your worst dreams. Hiram wore spectacles 'n' carpet-slippers 'n' that old umbrella as Mr. Shores keeps at the store to keep from bein' stole, 'n' Lucy wore clothes she 'd found in trunks 'n' her hair in curl-papers, 'n' her cold-cream gloves. They certainly was a sight, 'n' Gran'ma Mullins laughed as hard as any one over them. Mr. Sperrit drove 'em to the train, 'n' Hiram says he 's goin' to spend two dollars a day right along till he comes back; so I guess Lucy 'll have a good time for once in her life. 'N' Gran'ma Mullins walked back with me 'n' not one word o' Hiram did she speak. She was all Polly 'n' the deacon. She said it wa'n't in reason as Polly could imagine him with hair, 'n' she said she was thinkin' very seriously o' givin' her a piece o' his hair as she 's got, for a weddin' present. She said Polly 'd never know what he was like the night he give her that hair. She said the moon was shinin' 'n' the frogs were croakin', 'n' she kind o' choked; she says she can't smell a marsh to this day without seein' the deacon givin' her that piece of hair. I cheered her up all I could—I told her anyhow he could n't give Polly a piece of his hair if he died for it. She smiled a weak smile 'n' went on up to Mrs. Brown's. Mrs. Brown 's asked her to stay with her a day or two. Mrs. Brown has her faults, but nobody can't deny as she 's got a good heart,—in fact, sometimes I think Mrs. Brown's good heart is about the worst fault she's got. I 've knowed it lead her to do very foolish things time 'n' again—things as I thank my star I 'd never think o' doin'—not in this world."

Mrs. Lathrop shifted her elbows a little; Susan withdrew at once from the fence.

"I must go in," she said, "to-morrow is goin' to be a more 'n full day. There 's Polly's weddin' 'n' then in the evenin' Mr. Weskin is comin' up. You need n't look surprised, Mrs. Lathrop, because I 've thought the subject over up 'n' down 'n' hind end foremost 'n' there ain't nothin' left for me to do. I can't sell nothin' else 'n' I 've got to have money, so I 'm goin' to let go of one of those bonds as father left me. There ain't no way out of it; I told Mr. Weskin I 'd expect him at sharp eight on sharp business, 'n' he 'll come. 'N' I must go as a consequence. Good night."

MR. JILKINS'S HAT

Polly Allen's wedding took place the next day, and Mrs. Lathrop came out on her front piazza about half past five to wait for her share in the event.

The sight of Mrs. Brown going by with her head bound up in a white cloth, accompanied by Gran'ma Mullins with both hands similarly treated, was the first inkling the stay-at-home had that strange doings had been lately done.

Susan came next and Susan was a sight! Not only did her ears stand up with a size and conspicuousness never inherited from either her father or her mother, but also her right eye was completely closed and she walked lame.

"The Lord have mercy!" cried Mrs. Lathrop, when the full force of her friend's affliction effected its complete entrance into her brain,—"Why, Susan, what—"

"Mrs. Lathrop," said Miss Clegg, "all I can say is I come out better than the most of 'em, 'n' if you could see Sam Duruy or Mr. Kimball or the minister you 'd know I spoke the truth. The deacon 'n' Polly is both in bed 'n' can't see how each other looks, 'n' them as has a eye is goin' to tend them as can't see at all, an' God help 'em all if young Dr. Brown an' the mud run dry!" with which pious ejaculation Susan painfully mounted the steps and sat down with exceeding gentleness upon a chair.

Mrs. Lathrop stared at her in dumb and wholly bewildered amazement. After a while Miss Clegg continued.

"It was all the deacon's fault. Him 'n' Polly was so dead set on bein' fashionable 'n' bein' a contrast to Hiram an Lucy, 'n' I hope to-night as they lay there all puffed up as they 'll reflect on their folly 'n' think a little on how the rest of us as did n't care rhyme or reason for folly is got no choice but to puff up, too. Mrs. Jilkins is awful mad; she says Mr. Jilkins wanted to wear his straw hat anyhow, 'n' she says she always has hated his silk hat 'cause it reminds her o' when she was young 'n' foolish enough to be willin' to go 'n' marry into a family as was foolish enough to marry into Deacon White. Mrs. Jilkins is extra hot because she got one in the neck, but my own idea is as Polly Allen's weddin' was the silliest doin's as I ever see from the beginnin', 'n' the end wa'n't no more than might o' been expected—all things considered.

"When I got to the church, what do you think was the first thing as I see, Mrs. Lathrop? Well, you 'd never guess till kingdom come, so I may as well tell you. It was Ed 'n' Sam Duruy 'n' Henry Ward Beecher 'n' Johnny standin' there waitin' to show us to our pews like we did n't know our own pews after sittin' in 'em for all our life-times! I just shook my head 'n' walked to my pew, 'n' there, if it was n't looped shut with a daisy-chain! Well, Mrs. Lathrop, I wish you could have been there to have felt for me, for I may remark as a cyclone is a caterpillar wove up in hisself beside my face when I see myself daisy-chained out o' my own pew by Polly Allen. Ed was behind me 'n' he whispered 'That's reserved for the family.' I give him one look 'n' I will state, Mrs. Lathrop, as he wilted. It did n't take me long to break that daisy-chain 'n' sit down in that pew, 'n' I can assure you as no one asked me to get up again. Mrs. Jilkins's cousins from Meadville come 'n' looked at me sittin' there, but I give them jus' one look back 'n' they went 'n' sat with Mrs. Macy themselves. A good many other folks was as surprised as me over where they had to sit, but we soon had other surprises as took the taste o' the first clean out o' our mouths.

"Just as Mrs. Davison begin to play the organ, Ed 'n' Johnny come down with two clothes-lines wound 'round with clematis 'n' tied us all in where we sat. Then they went back 'n' we all stayed still 'n' could n't but wonder what under the sun was to be done to us next. But we did n't have long to wait, 'n' I will say as anythin' to beat Polly's ideas I never see—no—nor no one else neither.

"'Long down the aisle, two 'n' two, 'n' hand in hand, like they thought they was suthin' pretty to look at, come Ed 'n' Johnny 'n' Henry Ward Beecher 'n' Sam Duruy, 'n' I vow 'n' declare, Mrs. Lathrop, I never was so nigh to laughin' in church in all my life. They knowed they was funny, too, 'n' their mouths 'n' eyes was tight set sober, but some one in the back just had to giggle, 'n' when we heard it we knew as things as was n't much any other day would use us up this day, sure. They stopped in front 'n' lined up, two on a side, 'n' then, for all the world like it was a machine-play, the little door opened 'n' out come the minister 'n' solemnly walked down to between them. I must say we was all more than a little disappointed at its only bein' the minister, 'n' he must have felt our feelin's, for he began to cough 'n' clear up his throat 'n' his little desk all at once. Then Mrs. Davison jerked out the loud stop 'n' began to play for all she was worth, 'n' the door behind banged 'n' every one turned aroun' to see.

"Well, Mrs. Lathrop, we saw,—'n' I will in truth remark as such a sawin' we 'll never probably get a chance to do again! Mrs. Sweet says they practised it over four times at the church, so they can't deny as they meant it all, 'n' you might lay me crossways 'n' cut me into chipped beef 'n' still I would declare as I would n't have the face to own to havin' had any hand in plannin' any such weddin'.

"First come 'Liza Em'ly 'n' Rachel Rebecca hand in hand carryin' daisies—of all things in the world to take to a weddin'—'n' then come Brunhilde Susan, with a daisy-chain around her neck 'n' her belt stuck full o' daisies 'n'—you can believe me or not, jus' as you please, Mrs. Lathrop, 'n' still it won't help matters any—'n' a daisy stuck in every button down her back, 'n' daisies tangled up in her hair, 'n' a bunch o' daisies under one arm.

"Well, we was nigh to overcome by Brunhilde Susan, but we drawed some fresh breath 'n' kept on lookin', 'n' next come Polly 'n' Mr. Allen. I will say for Mr. Allen as he seemed to feel the ridiculousness of it all, for a redder man I never see, nor one as looked more uncomfortable. He was daisied, too—had three in his buttonhole;—but what took us all was the way him 'n' Polly walked. I bet no people gettin' married ever zigzagged like that before, 'n' Mrs. Sweet says they practised it by countin' two 'n' then swingin' out to one side, 'n' then countin' two 'n' swingin' out to the other—she watched 'em out of her attic window down through the broke blind to the church. Well, all I can say is, that to my order o' thinkin' countin' 'n' swingin' is a pretty frame o' mind to get a husband in, but so it was, 'n' we was all starin' our eyes off to beat the band when the little door opened 'n', to crown everythin' else, out come the deacon 'n Mr. Jilkins, each with a daisy 'n' a silk hat, 'n' I will remark, Mrs. Lathrop, as new-born kittens is blood-red murderers compared to how innocent that hat o' Mr. Jilkins looked. Any one could see as it was n't new, but he was n't new either as far as that goes, 'n' that was what struck me in particular about the whole thing—nothin' 'n' nobody was n't any different only for Polly's foolishness 'n' the daisies.