“No, I don’t think he’s worse; not ‘nless wakin’ up ‘n’ askin’ f’r things jus’ to be aggravatin’ is worse.  If it is, then he is too.  But, lor, there ain’t no manner o’ use in talkin’ o’ father!  A watched pot never boils!  Jathrop’s more to the point right now.”

Upon this hint Mrs. Lathrop de-fenced herself, so to speak, and the friendly chat ended for that time.

The morning after, Miss Clegg was slow to appear at the summons of her neighbor.  When she did approach the spot where the other stood waiting, her whole face and figure bore a weary and fretful air.

“Father jus’ about kept me up this whole blessed night,” she began as soon as she was within easy hearing.  “I d’n’ know what I want to get married f’r, when I’m bound to be man-free in twenty-five years ’f I c’n jus’ make out to live that long.”

Mrs. Lathrop chewed and listened.

“If there was anythin’ in the house ’t father didn’t ask f’r ‘n’ ’t I didn’t get him last night, it must ‘a’ been the cook-stove in the kitchen.  I come nigh to losin’ a toe in the rat-trap the third time I was down cellar, ‘n’ I clum that ladder to the garret so many times ’t I do believe I dusted all overhead with my hair afore mornin’.  My ears is full o’ cobwebs too, ‘n’ you know ’s well ’s I do ’t I never was one to fancy cobwebs about me.  They say ’t every cloud has a silver linin’, but I can’t see no silver linin’ to a night like last night.  When the rooster crowed f’r the first time this mornin’, I had it in my heart to march right out there ‘n’ hack off his head.  If it ’d ‘a’ been Saturday, I’d ‘a’ done ’t too, ‘n’ relished him good at Sunday dinner!”

Miss Clegg paused and compressed her lips firmly for a few seconds; then she gave herself a little shake and descended to the main question of the day.

“Well, what did Jathrop say?”

Mrs. Lathrop looked very uncomfortable indeed, and in lieu of an answer swallowed her clover.

“You asked him, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I—­”

“Well, what ’d he say?”

“He ain’t very—­”

“My soul ‘n’ body!  What reason did he give?”

“He’s afraid your father’s livin’ on a annu—­”

“Well, he ain’t.”  Susan’s tone was more than a little displeased.  “Whatever else father may ‘a’ done, he never played no annuity tricks.  He ‘s livin’ on his own property, ‘n’ I’ll take it very kindly o’ you, Mrs. Lathrop, to make that piece o’ news clear to your son.  My father’s got bank-stock, ‘n’ he owns them two cottages across the bridge, ‘n’ the blacksmith-shop belongs to him too.  There!  I declare I never thought o’ the blacksmith,—­his wife died last winter.”

“Jathrop asked me what I th—­”

“Well, what ’d you tell him?”

“I said ’t if your father was some older—­”

Miss Clegg’s eyebrows moved understandingly.

“How long is it since you’ve seen father?” she asked without waiting for the other to end her sentence.