She says they were tinkerin’ on the thing all last evenin’ ‘n’ a good part o’ this mornin’ ‘n’ two mattresses to beat ‘n’ a chair to mend ’s never counted for anythin’.  Well—­seems ’t towards noon Mr. Fisher got to where he could go down town to get the top part pumped up, ‘n’ while he was down town what did John Bunyan do but up ‘n’ put wheels on the bottom part?  My! but Mrs. Fisher says ’t Mr. Fisher was mad when he got back ‘n’ see them wheels.  He tied the pumped up part to the hammer ‘t was layin’ on the garden bench, ‘n’ then he shook John Bunyan hard ‘n’ asked him what in thunder he meant by puttin’ wheels on a flyin’-machine, ‘n’ John Bunyan jus’ up ‘n’ asked him to his face how under the sun he was ‘xpectin’ to make the thing go ’f it didn’t have no wheels on it.  Mrs. Fisher says she was in behind the kitchen blinds ‘n’ she was fit to kill herself laughin’ to see how mad Mr. Fisher got,—­he got so mad ’t he backed up ‘n’ fell over the garden bench ‘n’ busted the pumped up part o’ the flyin’-machine all hollow.  Mrs. Fisher says it finished her to see a flyin’-machine with the top part all holes ‘n’ the bottom part all wheels.  She says she ’s give John Bunyan her father’s cuff-button ‘n’ told him ’f he keeps on ’s well ’s he ’s begun ’t she ’ll give him a button f’r the other cuff the day he’s twenty-one.

“Mrs. Brown was down town buyin’ eggs.  She says them Leghorns o’ hers can’t begin to keep up with Henry Ward Beecher.  She says, besides, ’t she hasn’t no scraps to feed ’em since he’s come, ‘n’ so the knife cuts two ways.  She’s mighty glad that the observin’ ‘s goin’ to begin to-night, f’r she says she’s prayin’ Heaven for relief but she ain’t got much faith left.  Mr. Kimball was feelin’ mighty funny, ‘n’ he hollered to her ’t she wa’n’t the first to have her faith shook by Henry Ward Beecher, but we was all too considerate for her feelin’s to laugh.  I wouldn’t laugh at a joke o’ Mr. Kimball’s anyhow.”

“I wish—­” said Mrs. Lathrop mildly.

“It’s a curious thing,” continued Susan,—­“it’s a mighty curious thing how many folks is give to likin’ to hear themselves talk.  Mr. Kimball’s a sad example o’ that kind o’ man.  I’d sometimes enjoy to stop ‘n’ exchange a few friendly words with him, but, lor’!  I’d never get a chance.  The minister is about all I c’n stand in the talkin’ line—­’n’ you, o’ course, Mrs. Lathrop.”

* * * * *

The evening after, as Susan was snapping out her dish-towels, she spied her neighbor meandering back and forth among the clover blossoms.  Later she observed her standing—­ruminative and ruminating, so to speak—­at the fence.  There was always a potent suggestion in Mrs. Lathrop’s pose, as she leaned and waited, which vastly accelerated Miss Clegg’s after-dinner movements.  In this case less than two minutes intervened between the waiting of Mrs. Lathrop and the answering of her younger friend.

“Was you to—­” the older woman asked, as her eyes were brightened by the approach of her medium of communication with the world at large.