“Dear, dear—­” commented Mrs. Lathrop, giving a heave of unrest.

“Can you feel your leg now?” Susan inquired.

“Yes; I—­”

“Then it ‘s all right so far, but, my! you mus’ n’t begin gettin’ restless this soon.  You ain’t been kicked six hours yet, ‘n’ you ’ve got to lay that same way f’r six weeks.  After a while it’ll be pretty bad, I expeck, but you ain’t got nothin’ to complain of to-day.  I see the minister just after I left Mrs. Macy, ‘n’ he said you must say to yourself, ‘Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof’ ‘n’ get along the best you can.  I c’d see he was some put out over your gettin’ a cow, f’r he c’d n’t but understand ’t with a cow over the fence I was n’t goin’ to be takin’ milk from over the crick.  He said ‘t your bein’ kicked was a judgment ‘n’ the sins o’ the parents should be visited on the children even unto the third ‘n’ fourth generation.  I did n’t know whose sins he was meanin’, the cow’s or Jathrop’s, but I did n’t ask.  I guess we ’d ought to make allowances f’r the minister,—­he ain’t seemed to ever be able to bear up under them twins.  He was pushin’ ’em in the carriage to-day ‘n’ drawin’ little Jane after him in a express wagon.  I asked him how his wife was, ‘n’ he said she’s doin’ nicely, only she can’t decide what to name the baby.  He walked with me a piece; it seemed to do him good to speak out frank ‘n’ open, ‘n’ I guess he sees more ‘n’ more what a mistake he’s made; he couldn’t but see it, I sh’d suppose, f’r his wife ’s had four children in three years, ‘n’ I didn’t even adopt one.  It’s that four-in-three-years business ’t seems to ‘a’ used him up the most.  He says he never even had a idea ’t it could be done.  He says his first wife was so different, ‘n’ he says it’s just been shock after shock, ‘n’ two shocks when the twins come.  Little Jane caught her dress in a wheel while we was talkin’, ‘n’ we had to turn her ‘n’ the express-wagon both upside down ’t once afore we could unwind it, ‘n’ while we was doin’ that, one o’ the twins fell out o’ the carriage.  The minister says he don’t thank no man to talk race-suicide when he’s aroun’; he says his blood runs cold to think what his family ’ll be at his silver weddin’.  I tell you, Mrs. Lathrop, I will own ’t I’ve always felt some sore at the minister on a’count o’ his not marryin’ me, but ’f I ever desired any species o’ revenge I certainly ’d be hard to please ’f I didn’t get it to-day when I see him with twins ahead ‘n’ little Jane behind ‘n’ nine at home.”

Mrs. Lathrop sighed.

“That reminds me o’ what I come over to ask you,” said Susan.  “Have you had any dinner?”

“No; I—­”

“Then I’ll fix you some when I cook mine.  I c’n call Jathrop ‘n’ have him bring it over when it’s ready.  I see him in the yard when I come by; he was peekin’ in at the cow.  I ain’t never had no great opinion o’ Jathrop, but I guess he c’n carry a tray.  ‘N’ now afore I leave you, Mrs. Lathrop, I will say jus’ once more ’s my advice is f’r you to keep a sharp eye on your leg, ‘n’ if it feels anyway like you can’t feel nothin’ I’d have that plaster off in a jiffy.  How’s it put on?  Round ‘n’ roun’?”