There was a pause, and Mrs. Lathrop filled it to the brim with expectancy until she could wait no longer.

“Are you—­” she finally asked.

“No,” said her friend, sharply, “I ain’t.  He wasn’t a bit spry to hop at the chance, ‘n’ Lord knows there wa’n’t no great urgin’ on my part.  I asked him why he ain’t never married, ‘n’ he laughed like it was a funny subjeck, ‘n’ said ’s long ’s he never did it ’t that was the least o’ his troubles.  I didn’t call that a very encouragin’ beginnin’, but my mind was made up not to let it be my fault ’f the horse was a dead waste o’ fifty cents, ‘n’ so I said to him ’t if he’d marry any woman with a little money he could easy buy the little Jones farm right next him, ‘n’ then ’t ’d be ’s clear ’s day that it ’d be his own fault if he didn’t soon stretch right from the brook to the road.  He laughed some more ’t that, ‘n’ said ’t I didn’t seem to be aware ’t he owned a mortgage on the Jones farm ‘n’ got all ’t it raised now ‘n’ would get the whole thing in less ’n two years.”

Mrs. Lathrop stopped chewing.

“They was sayin’ in the Sewin’ Society ‘s he’s goin’ to marry Eliza Gr—­” she said mildly.

Miss Clegg almost screamed.

“Eliza Gringer, as keeps house for him?”

Her friend nodded.

Miss Clegg drew in a sudden breath.

“Well! ’f I’d knowed that, I’d never ‘a’ paid fifty cents for that horse ‘n’ buggy!  Eliza Gringer! why, she’s older ‘n’ I am,—­she was to ‘Cat’ when I was only to ‘M.’  ‘N’ he’s goin’ to marry her!  Oh, well, I d’n’ know ’s it makes any difference to me.  In my opinion a man as ’d be fool enough to be willin’ to marry a woman ‘s ain’t got nothin’ but herself to give him, ‘s likelier to be happier bein’ her fool ’n he ever would be bein’ mine.”

There was a pause.

“Your father’s just the—­” Mrs. Lathrop said at last.

“Same?  Oh yes, he’s just the same.  Seems ’t I can’t remember when he wasn’t just the same.”

Then there was another pause.

“I ain’t discouraged,” Susan announced suddenly, almost aggressively,—­“I ain’t discouraged ‘n’ I won’t give up.  I’m goin’ to see Mr. Weskin, the lawyer, to-morrow.  They say—­’n’ I never see nothin’ to lead me to doubt ’em—­’t he’s stingy ‘n’ mean for all he’s forever makin’ so merry at other folks’ expense; but I believe ’t there’s good in everythin’ ‘f you’re willin’ to hunt for it ‘n’ Lord knows ’t if this game keeps up much longer I ’ll get so used to huntin’ ‘t huntin’ the good in Lawyer Weskin ‘ll jus’ be child’s play to me.”

“I was thinkin’—­” began Mrs. Lathrop.

“It ain’t no use if you are,” said her neighbor; “the mosquitoes is gettin’ too thick.  We ’d better in.”

And so they parted for the night.

* * * * *

The following evening was hot and breathless, the approach of Fourth of July appearing to hang heavily over all.  Susan brought a palm-leaf fan with her to the fence and fanned vigorously.