doubtful at present if Felicia ’s got so much as a father.  Mrs. Allen says they was all so used up ’t when Mrs. Sperrit was in to-day she jus’ traded Brunhilde Susan against the makin’ o’ Mr. Sperrit’s summer shirts, ‘n’ then went right ‘n’ bought the cloth ‘n’ took the baby.  Mrs. Allen says ’s Mrs. Sperrit says ’t Brunhilde Susan c’n learn if dogs moo out on the farm, ‘n’ f’r her part she’d rather be responsible f’r any man’s baby ’n for one husband’s collar-bands.  So Brunhilde Susan ’s settled, ‘n’ Mrs. Allen ’s awful sorry ’t she didn’t send the cow along with her too, for she says ’t it’s harder ’n you’d think to keep a cow content nights in a chicken-house.  But she didn’t think in time, so she lost the chance, ‘n’ as a result she was down town buyin’ thread with the minister’s cow on her shoulders.”

Miss Clegg paused for breath.  Mrs. Lathrop chewed passively.

“I must say, though, ’t it ’s generally admitted ’t we’ve seen the last o’ the minister.  To think how he looked the mornin’ he left,—­in his wilted collar ‘n’ that coat ‘t Deacon White was married in,—­’n’ all the time his ear-muffs hid away somewhere about him!  I wouldn’t ‘a’ believed it—­not on your honor, Mrs. Lathrop.  Hind-sight ’s always better ’n fore-sight, ‘n’ we c’n all see now ’t we did a mighty foolish thing givin’ him such a easy chance to get out of it.  I can’t see, though, how he’s ever goin’ to get another place without sendin’ to us f’r a good character, ‘n’ I’m free to confess ’t I don’t believe ’t the father of Augustus ’ll ever get any praise from the Craigs, nor yet will the father o’ little Jane from Gran’ma Mullins.  The Craigs is awful mournful to think ’t they ain’t got no kittens from their cat, but owin’ to the fact ‘t he wasn’t no kitten kind o’ cat he naturally never had none.  Mr. Kimball says mebbe the hairs from his tail ’ll turn into suthin’ in the well like the hairs in horse’s tails do in waterin’-troughs.  But ’f horse’s hairs make snakes, I sh’d naturally suppose ’t cat’s hairs would make mud-turtles, ‘n’ it ain’t no mud-turtle ‘t Mrs. Craig wants.  She wants suthin’ to warm her feet on winters, ‘n’ she told me with tears in her eyes ’t he never scratched when he was rocked on, ‘n’ she used to rock on him so often ’t by spring he was all wore off in spots ‘n’ most wore through in some places.

“Mrs. Jilkins was up from Cherry Pond to-day f’r the first time since she took Josephus home with her las’ Saturday mornin’.  She was awful surprised to hear all the bother ‘t all the rest have been havin’.  She says ’t she ain’t had no bother a tall.  She says ’t she whipped Josephus nine times the day ’t she took him home with her, ‘n’ since then she’s taught him to read ‘n’ write ‘n’ sew patchwork ‘n’ beat up batter.  She says ’f she’d ‘a’ had Henry Ward Beecher he wouldn’t ‘a’ roamed but once, nor would little Jane ‘a’ give but one suck, nor Fox but one yell, nor would Augustus ‘a’ throwed but one cat down her well.  Mrs. Craig was standin’ right there, ‘n’ she spoke up pretty sharp at that ‘n’ said ’t he hadn’t throwed but one cat in her well ‘n’ she wanted that distinctly understood.  Mrs. Jilkins jus’ laughed, but then some one up ‘n’ told her about the minister bein’ gone f’r good, ‘n’ she very quickly changed her tune.