“I don’t want—­”

“It’s got to be him or me or the butcher, ‘n’ I must say I don’t see no good ‘n’ sufficient reason why it should be me.  I didn’t have Jathrop, nor yet the cow, ‘n’ I don’t see why I sh’d lay myself open to bein’ snapped off any where, jus’ because your son ’s half a fool—­the head half.”

Mrs. Lathrop groaned.

“Now there ain’t no use in that” said Susan firmly; “lots o’ things might be worse ’n they are.  She might ‘a’ broken both your legs, or she may break both his when he tries to milk her to-night.  You must look on the bright side, Mrs. Lathrop, ‘n’ not twist aroun’ like you’d been in bed four weeks ‘n’ only had two more ahead o’ you.  The whole six is ahead now, ‘n’ instid o’ wrigglin’ ‘n’ sighin’, you’d ought to think how good it is as I’m here to take care o’ you.  I must say ’t, to my order o’ thinkin’, your leg is goin’ to be pretty nigh ’s hard on me ’s on you.  ’F I can’t trust Jathrop to so much ’s carry a tray after I’ve been to all the bother o’ cookin’ it, it stands to reason ‘s I must be kitin’ with ’em all day long.  I’m very friendly with you, Mrs. Lathrop, ‘n’ whether single or two-legged I’d never but wish you well; still, I am a rich woman, ‘n’ bein’ a rich woman, it does seem kind o’ hard for me to have to slave back ‘n’ forth over the fence for six weeks; but, such bein’ the case, it strikes me ’t, of us two, you certainly ain’t the one ’s ‘d ought to be doin’ the groanin’.”

Mrs. Lathrop appeared contrite and dumb.

“I guess I’ll go ‘n’ get supper now,” said her visitor, rising; “when it’s got I’ll bring you over some.  I ain’t goin’ to trust Jathrop with nothin’ again, I know.  To think o’ his eatin’ your dinner!  I must say, Mrs. Lathrop, ’t if you was cut out to be a mother, it certainly seems a pity ’t you never got beyond Jathrop, for no one ’s ever see him could believe it of you.  However, I don’t suppose ’s any one in their senses could blame you f’r stoppin’ right off short when you see what you ’d gone ‘n’ done the first time.”

Mrs. Lathrop made no attempt to reply.  Miss Clegg left the room, and returned not until she came with the supper.

“I did n’t see Jathrop nowhere,” she announced as she entered, “but the cow ‘s goin’ on jus’ awful.”

“Jathrop ’s gone for the—­”

“Well, I am glad.  The butcher ’s the only one ’s ’d ought to go near her.  I persume I c’d ‘a’ milked her, ‘n’ ’f she ’d been my cow I w’d ‘a’ milked her, but bein’ ’s she wa’n’t mine I did n’t see no good ‘n’ sufficient reason why I sh’d so much ’s take a interest in her.  I will own ’t I did sorter ache to see her kick Jathrop into kingdom come, but the chances are ’t he’d ‘a’ come out alive, ‘n’ so it would n’t ‘a’ paid in the end.  I ‘ll be glad to hear her stop mooin’, though.  I was sick o’ the noise afore she begun, ‘n’ she ‘s kep’ right on ever since.”

Mrs. Lathrop ate a little and drank a little, looking blandly non-committal as she did so.  Miss Clegg rocked vigorously.