“I can’t get that plaster out o’ my head,” she continued presently.  “I wonder if it won’t give you rheumatism anyhow.  Deacon White got rheumatism from movin’ into a house where the plaster was damp, ‘n’ it stands to reason it’d be worse yet if it’s tied right tight to you.  I must say ’t I agree with Mrs. Macy; I think you’d ought to have old Dr. Carter.  O’ course it’ll cost suthin’ to have him over from Meadville, but it’ll cost you a sight more to have a wooden leg up from the city.  There ain’t no sense in tryin’ to save money over a kick, Mrs. Lathrop, ‘n’ what’s the good o’ your economizin’ all these years ’f you can’t indulge yourself a little when you want to?  That’s what Mr. Shores said to me—­jus’ them very self-same words—­when he wanted to sell me that fancy green ‘n’ yellow parasol ’s he had up f’r Easter.  I didn’t want no parasol, though; it had a pointed-nose dog f’r a handle, ‘n’ I didn’t fancy myself goin’ to church hangin’ on to a dog’s nose, even ’f it was silver-plated.  I ain’t no great admirer o’ green ‘n’ yellow, neither, ‘n’ so I told him flat ‘n’ plain ’t I wa’n’t through my economizin’ years yet.  He sold the parasol to Mrs. Jilkins, ‘n’ she let it down on her thumb ‘n’ come nigh to breakin’ her thumb.  She says she won’t carry no parasol ’s she can’t shut down without riskin’ her thumb ‘n’ she ‘s goin’ to give it to her niece over to Meadville.  She says her niece is awful womans-rightsy, ‘n’ can swing dumb-bells ‘n’ look over backward ’t her own heels, ‘n’ that parasol ‘ll be nothin’ but child’s play to her.  I ain’t no sympathy with such views myself—­I never was one as believed overmuch in womans’ rights.  My idea is to let the men have the rights, ‘n’ then they’re satisfied to let you do ’s you please.  ’S far ’s my observa—­Lord have mercy on us!”

The cause of the abrupt termination of Miss Clegg’s speech was a sudden crashing back of the house, followed by a rush and a swish at the side.  The friendly visitor made one jump for the window, took one look out, and was off and away.  The door slammed before Mrs. Lathrop got her mouth open to ask what was the matter.  She called, but no answer came.  Then she waited, and waited some more, and finally grew weary in her waiting and fell asleep.

She slept long and dreamlessly.  It was well after seven when the noise of footsteps awakened her.

It was Susan.  Having left the tray behind in her mad flight of the night before, she had come over with the teapot in one hand and a plate of toast in the other.  But it was not the breakfast which attracted Mrs. Lathrop’s attention, it was the expression of her neighbor’s face.  Tidings of vast importance were deeply imprinted there, and when Miss Clegg set the teapot down and said, “Well, Mrs. Lathrop!” there was that within the tone of her voice which seemed to cause the very air to quiver in anticipation.

“Is anything the—­”

“Matter?” Susan put down the toast and drew herself up to her full height as she spoke.  “Yes, Mrs. Lathrop, a good deal is the matter.  You ain’t seen Jathrop, have you?”