urday, I'd 'a' done 't too, 'n' relished him good at Sunday
dinner!"

Miss Clegg paused and compressed her lips firmly for a few seconds;
then she gave herself a little shake and descended to the main
question of the day.

"Well, what did Jathrop say?"

Mrs. Lathrop looked very uncomfortable indeed, and in lieu of an
answer swallowed her clover.

"You asked him, didn't you?"

"Yes, I--"

"Well, what 'd he say?"

"He ain't very--"

"My soul 'n' body! What reason did he give?"

"He's afraid your father's livin' on a annu--"

"Well, he ain't." Susan's tone was more than a little displeased.
"Whatever else father may 'a' done, he never played no annuity tricks.
He 's livin' on his own property, 'n' I'll take it very kindly o' you,
Mrs. Lathrop, to make that piece o' news clear to your son. My
father's got bank-stock, 'n' he owns them two cottages across the
bridge, 'n' the blacksmith-shop belongs to him too. There! I declare I
never thought o' the blacksmith,--his wife died last winter."

"Jathrop asked me what I th--"

"Well, what 'd you tell him?"

"I said 't if your father was some older--"

Miss Clegg's eyebrows moved understandingly.

"How long is it since you've seen father?" she asked without waiting
for the other to end her sentence.

"Not since your mother died, I guess; I was--"

"I wish you c'd come over 'n' take a look at him now 'n' tell me your
opinion. Why can't you?"

Mrs. Lathrop reflected.

"I don't see why I can't. I'll go in 'n' take off--"

"All right, 'n' when you've got it off, come right over 'n' you'll
find me in the kitchen waitin' for you."

Mrs. Lathrop returned to her own house to shed her apron and wash her
hands, and then sallied over to view Mr. Clegg. The two friends
mounted the stair together, and entered the old man's room.

It was a scrupulously clean and bright and orderly room, and the
invalid in the big white bed bore evidence to the care and attention
so dutifully lavished on him. He was a very wizened little old man,
and his features had been crossed and recrossed by the finger of Time
until their original characteristics were nearly obliterated. The
expression upon his face resembled nothing so much as a sketch which
has been done over so many times that its first design is altogether
lost, and if there was any answer to the riddle, it was not the mental
perception of Mrs. Lathrop that was about to seize upon it.

Instead, that kindly visitor stood lo