“I see every one almost,” replied the other.  “I see Polly Allen wheelin’ Brunhilde Susan around the square.  Polly said ’t the heat was hard on the cow ‘n’ hard on Brunhilde Susan.  She says the cow’s got to have suthin’ on ‘n’ Brunhilde Susan’s got to have everythin’ off or they ain’t neither of them peaceable to live with long.  I ain’t so happy over Brunhilde Susan ’s I would be if she had more sense.  She was cryin’ ‘Moo—­moo’ at every dog she see, ‘n’ I give her a nickel to keep her quiet, ‘n’ then she up ‘n’ lost it.  We hunted an’ hunted ‘n’ did everythin’ in kingdom come to find it—­for I naturally didn’t feel to come away without it—­’n’ finally Polly said ’s she must ‘a’ swallowed it, ‘n’ she asked her, ‘n’ she said ‘Yes,’ ‘n’ I was more ’n disgusted.  It was a full minute before I could remember to thank my stars as it wasn’t a half-dollar—­’s it might easy ‘a’ been, for bein’ the namesake of a child kind o’ obliges you to be nice to ’em.  Brunhilde Susan can’t never expect to get nothin’ out o’ her front half, for I was give to understand ’t the Brunhilde ’s Felicia Hemans was so book-took with is long dead, ‘Dragged at horses’ tails,’ she had the face to tell me—­the joint godmother!—­’’N’ who by?’ I couldn’t in decency but ask.—­’By the horses,’ says Felicia Hemans, a-gigglin’ fit to beat the band.  Well, Mrs. Lathrop, I’m pretty patient with the young in general, but I must say ’s I can’t but feel ‘t when them shirts o’ Sam Duruy’s is done ‘n’ their consequences is added up, it’s a even thing which draws the least,—­him or Felicia.  Mrs. Macy told me ’t Mrs. Duruy has her things all washed ‘n’ ironed to go to Meadville to-morrow, ‘n’ I reckon ’t a woman ’s is as blind ’s that ‘ll be jus’ ’s happy in Meadville as anywhere else.”

Susan paused and rose from her seat.

“Are you a—­” said Mrs. Lathrop.

“Looks like it, don’t it?” replied Miss Clegg. “‘S a matter o’ fact, Mrs. Lathrop, I’m that hot ‘n’ tired ’d it ’d take a long sight more ’n you to keep me any longer, so I ’ll say good-bye ‘n’ go.”

* * * * *

On Monday the thermometer bounded higher than ever.  It was wash-day too, which rendered one half of the community infinitely hotter yet.  As the burden of the minister’s vacation fell upon the same half that the washing did, one might have looked for very little friendly exchanging of personal trials on the evening that followed such a trying day.  Susan felt such to be the case and concluded not to try and go down town.  Mrs. Lathrop took two or three wilted clovers, and sat on her steps and chewed submissively after tea,—­too much overcome even to waft a questioning glance across the interim of parched grass which stretched between her kitchen stoop and that of her friend; but the latter saw her sitting there and felt a keen, remorseful stab.

“I guess I ‘ll go down in the square f’r jus’ five minutes,” she called to the dejected figure, and forthwith sallied out to the conflict.