Susan Clegg and Her Friend Mrs. Lathrop | Page 3

begin with him. I c'd marry him
without waitin' for father, too, 'cause a minister could n't in reason find
fault over another man's bein' always to home. O' course he would n't
be still like father is, but I ain't never been one to look gift-horses in the
mouth, 'n' I d'n' know 's I 'd ought to expect another man jus' like father
in one life. Mother often said father's advantages was great, for you
always knew where he was, 'n' 'f you drew down the shade you c'd tell
him it was rainin' 'n' he could n't never contradick."
Mrs. Lathrop nodded acquiescently but made no comment.
Miss Clegg withdrew somewhat from her confidentially inclined

attitude.
"I won't be out in the mornin'," she said. "I sh'll want to dust father 'n'
turn him out o' the window afore Mrs. Brown's son comes. After he's
gone I'll wave my dish-towel, 'n' then you come out 'n' I 'll tell you what
he says."
They separated for the night, and Susan went to sleep with her own
version of love's young dream.
Mrs. Brown's son arrived quite promptly the next morning. He drove
up in Mr. Brown's buggy, and Amelia Fitch held the horse while he
went inside to inspect Mr. Clegg. The visit did not consume more than
ten minutes, and then he hurried out to the gate and was off.
The buggy was hardly out of sight up the road when Miss Clegg
emerged from her kitchen door, her face bearing an imprint of deep and
thorough disgust.
"Well, Mrs. Lathrop, I don't think much o' that young man," she
announced in a tone of unmitigated disapproval; "'peared to me like he
was in a hurry to get done with father 's quick 's he could just so 's to be
back beside Amelia Fitch. I 'd venture a guess that 'f you was to ask
him this minute he 's forgot every word I said to him already. I asked
him to set some sort of a figger on father, 'n' he would n't so much 's set
down himself. Stood on one leg 'n' backed towards the door every other
word, 'n' me, father's only child, standin' there at his mercy. Said 't last
's he might die to-morrow 'n' might live twenty years. I tell you my
patience pretty near went at that. I don't call such a answer no answer a
tall. I 've often thought both them things myself, 'n' me no doctor.
Particularly about the twenty years. Father's lived seventy-five years--I
must say 't to my order o' thinkin' he's pretty well set a-goin', 'n' that the
life he leads ain't drainin' his vitality near 's much 's it's drainin' mine."
Miss Clegg stopped and shook her head impatiently.
"I d'n' know when I 've felt as put out 's this. 'N' me with so much faith
in doctors too. It's a pretty sad thing, Mrs. Lathrop, when all the

comfort you c'n get out of a man is the thinkin' 't perhaps God in his
mercy has made him a fool. I had a good mind to tell that very thing to
Mrs. Brown's son, but I thought maybe he'd learn better later. Anyway I
'm goin' right ahead with my marriage. It'll have to be the minister now,
'n' I can't see what I 've ever done 't I sh'd have two men around the
house 't once like they 'll be, but that's all in the hands o' Fate, 'n' so I
jus' took the first step 'n' told Billy when he brought the milk to tell his
father 't if he 'd come up here to-night I 'd give him a quarter for the
Mission fund. I know the quarter 'll bring him, 'n' I can't help kind o'
hopin' 't to-morrow 'll find the whole thing settled 'n' off my mind."
The next morning Mrs. Lathrop laid in an unusually large supply of
fodder and was very early at the fence. Her son--a placid little innocent
of nine-and-twenty years--was still in bed and asleep. Susan was up and
washing her breakfast dishes, but the instant that she spied her friend
she abruptly abandoned her task and hastened to the rendezvous.
"Are you goin' t'--" Mrs. Lathrop called eagerly.
"No, I ain't," was the incisive reply.
Then they both adjusted their elbows comfortably on the top rail of the
fence, and Miss Clegg began, her voice a trifle higher pitched than
usual.
"Mrs. Lathrop, it's a awful thing for a Christian woman to feel forced to
say, 'n' Lord knows I would n't say it to no one but you, but it's true 'n'
beyond a question so, 'n' therefore I may 's well be frank 'n' open