“Can you come—­” then called the eager waiter.

“Not till after I get my supper,” the other replied.

Mrs. Lathrop sighed, and forced herself to further patience.  It was all of seven when Miss Clegg finally came over.

“I’ll sit on the steps,” she announced.  “Bein’ ’s we’re such friends, Mrs. Lathrop, I may ’s well say right here ‘n’ now ’t I would n’t sit down in your kitchen this night for no money.  I’d carry the spots till I died most likely ‘n’ have no one but myself to blame f’r it.  You may not thank me f’r sayin’ it to your face, but it isn’t in me to deceive so much ’s a water-bug, ‘n’ ’f I live to be a hunderd I c’d never forget seein’ you make a chocolate cake once.  I c’d make a chocolate cake ‘n’ a king might eat off o’ my cuffs ‘n’ collar when I was through, but what surprised me about your chocolate cake, Mrs. Lathrop, was ’t you did n’t get into the oven with it in the end, for I’ll take my Bible oath ’s you had ’s much on you ’s on any pan.”

“We c’n sit on the—­” said Mrs. Lathrop pleasantly.

“I ‘m sittin’ there already,” said the caller, “‘n’ whenever you get ready to listen I ’ll tell you about this afternoon, for it was the most interestin’ meetin’ ’t we’ve had since Mrs. Jewett’s leg come off to her chair ‘n’ she run the crochet-hook so far in—­you recollec’?—­’n’ the doctors didn’t know which way to pull it out.  Young Dr. Brown was for pushin’ it on through ’cause the hook would catch ’f he drawed it out on the crochet principle, ‘n’ old Dr. Carter said it wouldn’t do to put it through ’cause it was a fancy Chinese thing ’t old Captain Jewett’s father brought from China ‘n’ there was a man’s head on the other end with his mustache makin’ two crochet-hooks, one each side.”

“What did—­” said Mrs. Lathrop.

“Don’t you remember?—­Mrs. Jewett come to ‘n’ told ’em ’t the middle was for needles ‘n’ ’t all they had to do was to unscrew it ‘n’ take it out opposite ways, ‘n’ then she fainted, ‘n’ then they did, ‘n’ no one thought of there bein’ needles in it, ‘n’ they fell out ‘n’ she had shootin’ pains from havin’ ’em in her for ever so long.  Mrs. Macy was sayin’ only the other day ‘t to her order o’ thinkin’ Mrs. Jewett died o’ the darnin’-needles.  She says she was forever grabbin’ herself somewhere with a sudden yell, ‘n’ no matter what the doctors said it was jus’ them needles, ‘n’ no sensible person ’s saw her actions could doubt it.  Mrs. Macy says it was a awful lesson to her against keepin’ loose needles in screw things,—­she says ’t her son sent her a egg from the World’s Fair with every kind of needle in it, but she wasn’t takin’ no chances, ‘n’ she took them needles right out ‘n’ put buttons in instead.”

“I remember she died,” said Mrs. Lathrop thoughtfully, “but I—­”