Susan Clegg and Her Friend Mrs. Lathrop Part 12

"I was sayin' to Mrs. Macy yesterday 's it does seem 's 'f I have harder work keepin' on smilin' terms with my own minister 'n' even a Job might in reason look for. I would n't be no woman 'f I had n't shown some feelin' over the way 't he went about town tellin' right 'n' left how nice them stockin's o' mine fit him after they shrunk too small f'r me, 'n' yet I ain't a mite o' doubt but what, a'cordin' to the Bible, I 'd ought to 'a' forgive him 'n' turned the other cheek into the bargain. Mrs. Craig says 's Mr. Kimball ain't mincin' matters none, but is jus' statin' all over 's it's all on a'count o' my havin'

bought the wool o' Sh.o.r.es; she says 't he says 't if I 'd bought it o'

him I 'd be wearin' all four pair this very day. She says 's Mrs.

Fisher says 's he told her 't, seein' things is 's they is, he's lookin' to see them stockin's keep right on shrinkin' down through the minister's family until they end up 's socks on the thirteenth baby. A joke's a joke, 'n' I c'n see the p'int o' a good joke 's quick 's any one, but I mus' say I fail to see any fun in such a remark. 'S far 's my observation's 'xtended, there ain't nothin' ladylike in the minister's wearin' my stockin's, nor yet in Mr. Kimball's entertainin'

the whole c'mmunity with 'em. A'cordin' to my manner o' thinkin', a woman as 'll give away four pair o' brand-new hand-knit stockin's for no better reason 'n 't the heels shrunk down under her instep, is doin' a deed o' Christian charity instead o' layin' herself open to all manner o' fun-makin'. 'N' I ain't the only one 's views the thing so serious, either, for Mr. Sh.o.r.es feels jus' 's bad 's I do about it.

He come runnin' to catch me the other day, 'n' asked me 'f I had n't mebbe used cold water for the first washin'. I did n't feel to thank him none f'r his interest afore he opened his mouth, but I c'n a.s.sure you, Mrs. Lathrop, 't after he'd spoke I jus' stood there plum-petrified 'n' stock-starin' f'r 's much 's a minute afore I c'd get voice to ask who give _him_ the authority to teach me how to wash my own stockin's. 'N' then, when I _did_ speak, I made no bones 's to sayin' jus' what I thought. I never was one to give my opinion o'

anythin' or anybody aroun' free, but I certainly did feel to be open at Mr. Sh.o.r.es. I told him 's shrunk stockin's to my order o' thinkin'

was a species o' spilt milk 's knowed no turnin', 'n' I further told him 't I 'd take it 's a great kindness 'f he 'n' the rest o' the town would shut their mouths right up tight on my stockin's. I says to him, I says, 'Mr. Sh.o.r.es, when your wife eloped I was one o' the few--the _very_ few--'s blamed _her_, 'n' I beg 'n' pray 't the quality o' your wool won't force me to change my mind. Your clerk 't she eloped with,'

I says, 'once give me a nickel three cent piece in place of a dime,' I says, ''n' up to the first washin' o' them stockin's I never so much 's breathed a suspicion of your mebbe dividin' that seven cents with him. But I ain't so sure now,' I says, ''n' I ain't prepared to say what I 'll think from now on,' 'n' then I walked off, leavin' him good 'n' meek, I c'n a.s.sure you; 'n' the come-out o' that little game is as my trade, which ranged fr'm ten to fifty cents a week 'n' _always_ cash, is lost to him forever hereafter."

Mrs. Lathrop was fairly choking with impatience.

"'N' your cousin--" she interjected quickly, as Susan halted for a slight rest.

"Yes," said that lady, with a certain chilling air of having up to now suffered from inexcusable neglect on the part of her friend, "I was thinkin' 's it was about time 't you begin to show _some_ interest in what I come over to tell you--'n' me here for the best part o' a good half-hour already. Well, 'n' my cousin! She come out o' a letter, Mrs.

Lathrop, a old torn letter 's you or any other ordinary person would probably 'a' throwed away without even readin'. But I was never one to do things slipshod, 'n' I read every sc.r.a.p 's I 've got time to piece together, so it was nothin' but natural 's I sh'd quit work 's soon 's I see Cousin Marion's letter 'n' sit right down to read it. 'N' it's good as I did too, for 'f I 'd been careless 'n' burned my rubbish unread, Cousin Marion 'd certainly 'a' burnt with the other sc.r.a.ps, 'n' as a consequence I'd 'a' missed about the happiest minutes 's I 've knowed since father died. You c'n believe me or not, jus' 's you please, Mrs. Lathrop, but I cried over that letter; 'n' if some was the dust in my nose, the rest was real affection, for, Lord knows, when you 're scratchin' out mice 'n' cobwebs you ain't lookin' to find a relation none. But anyhow, there she was, 'n' if she ain't died in the mean time--f'r the letter was wrote over fifty years ago--I may know suthin' o' family life yet. It was the beautifullest letter 't I ever read. You c'd n't imagine nothin' more beautiful. I'm afraid 's mebbe mother 'n' me misjudged father, owin' to the everlastin' up 'n'

down stairs, 'n' mother used to say right out 't it was a neck to neck tie 's to which he stuck closest to, his bed or his money. But he wasn't always like that, 'n' this letter proves it, for Heaven knows what he must 'a' give Cousin Marion to 'a' ever brought her to write him such words 's them. Not to deceive you, Mrs. Lathrop, the letter was that grateful that I was more 'n a little bothered over it. It is n't very likely 's you sh'd be able to understan' my feelin's to their full, 'n' yet you c'n mebbe guess 's it ain't altogether a agreeable thing to suddenly find out 't your own native flesh 'n' blood father's got distant relations callin' down daily blessin's on him f'r his overwhelmin' generosity. That's what she said in the letter, 'n' I can't deny 's the words sent a cold chill runnin' down my backbone 's I read 'em.

"The whole letter was writ in the same style, 'n' it didn't take long f'r me to see right straight through it, 'n' hatch more 'n a suspicion 't the reason 't I never hear o' Cousin Marion afore was 'cause she was head over heels in love with father. It was real touchin' too to think how near her letter came to bein' one o' mother's, 'n' in the end I jus' sneezed till I cried, for, to my shame be it said, Mrs.

Lathrop, 't the dust was 's thick in my garret this day 's it is in your parlor the year aroun'."

Susan paused to shake her head and use her pocket-handkerchief over her souvenirs in general. Mrs. Lathrop sat dumb and attentive.

"Marion Prim was her name," the narrator continued presently, "'n' she writ it from Knoxville fifty-one years ago come last October. Did _you_ ever hear of her?"

Mrs. Lathrop screwed her face up thoughtfully, but was forced to screw it into a negation after all.

"Seems funny 't father never spoke o' her after mother was so far past bein' jealous 's to be buried. He c'd 'a' said anythin' about anybody them years, 'n' 'f I had time to listen I'd 'a' been bound to hear, but to my certain knowledge he never said one word o' family 'xcept to remark over 'n' over 's he thanked the Lord Almighty 's he had n't got none, which words I naturally took 's signifyin' 's he was speakin'

the truth. Still a man is a man, 'n' this letter proves 's you can't even be sure o' one 's has been in bed under your own eye f'r twenty years, f'r it not only shows 's he did have a relation, but it shows suthin' else too; it shows me, 's has had four men all tryin' to marry me inside o' the same week, 't suthin' pretty close to love-makin' 'd pa.s.sed between her 's wrote this letter 'n' him 's kept it carefully hid away till long after he was dead. There's a shakiness about the writin' 'n' a down-hilledness about the lines 's lets me right into the secret o' their hearts, 'n' I'm willin' to venture a guess 't Cousin Marion c'd get money out o' father with less pain 'n mother could, under which circ.u.mstances I don't blame mother for closin' down on the subjeck.

"The more I consider that letter up 'n' down 'n' hind end to, Mrs.

Lathrop, the plainer I see 's Cousin Marion must 'a' been a sore 'n'

abidin' thorn inside o' father 'n' mother. Perhaps it was that as give him the paralysis! The doctor said 's it was suthin' obscure, 'n' 'f suthin' 's ain't found out till years after you 're dead ain't obscure I don't know what is. Anyway I 've took my stand 'n' it was the only sensible one to take. This 's the first chance I 've ever had in all my life to get a nice change without payin' board, 'n' so I jus' sat right down 'n' wrote to Cousin Marion 't 'f it was convenient to her I 'd come to Knoxville 'n' spend next Sunday. She 's bound to be pleased 't bein' remembered after fifty years, 'n' I 've got father's nose, 'n' that 'll help some, o' course. She can't be worse 'n dead, 'n' 'f she's dead 'n' don't answer I sha'n't never give the subjeck another thought, f'r I naturally ain't got very fond o' her jus' from findin'

her musty old letter stuck in behind the flap of a trunk 's I 've been achin' to hack to pieces these last twenty years. I never went up in my garret without I skinned myself somewhere on that trunk, 'n' you know how often I go up garret, Mrs. Lathrop, so it goes without sayin'

's I 've been considerably skinned first 'n' last. But 'f she sh'd be alive 'n' I sh'd get to go there, the Lord knows I certainly shall rejoice to have some o' my own to talk to, f'r blood is thicker 'n water, 'n' although I don't want to hurt your feelin's, Mrs. Lathrop, still you can't in conscience deny 's you ain't no conversationalist.

n.o.body is that I know hereabouts, neither. The minister talks some, but I 'm always thinkin' how much more I want to tell him things 'n I ever want to hear what he has to say, so I can't in truth feel 's his talkin' gives me much pleasure. Mrs. Macy 's great on gaspin', but she don't as a general thing get very far, 'n' so the long 'n' short o'

the whole thing is 't if Cousin Marion ain't a change f'r the better she can't noways be a change f'r the worst, 'n' so I 've made up my mind to sail right in 'n' risk her.

"I 've thought 's it 'll be a nice idea to take her father's cane for a present; it 'll surely come very handy to her,--'f she 's alive a _tall_,--'n' since Mr. Kimball over-persuaded me into buyin' one o'

them patent carpet-beaters, it ain't no manner o' service to me. Not 's I ain't sure 't I don't really prefer the cane to the patent, but I 've paid for the new thing 'n' I ain't goin' to go to work to make myself feel 's I 've wasted my money. The carpet-beater ain 't up to Mr. Kimball's talk by long odds, 'n' so far from turnin' into a egg-beater in the wink of your eye like he promised, you 've got to grip it fast between your knees 'n' get your back ag'in a flour-bin to turn it into anythin' a _tall_. 'N' then when it does turn, so far from bein' a joy it lets up so quick 't you find yourself most anywhere. Mrs. Craig was gettin' her brace ag'in the hen-house, 'n'

when it let up she sat down so sudden 't she smashed the henhouse 'n'

a whole settin' o' duck-eggs not to speak of the hen between. Mrs.

Macy says 't seein' 's she has more eggs 'n carpets, she jus' beats her carpets with the egg end 'n' don't fuss to change ever. Mrs.

Fisher says what puts her out is 't the ring 's you slide up to close the whisks for killin' flies won't stay up, 'n the flies don't get killed but jus' get hit so they buzz without stoppin' from then on.

Mrs. Jilkins says right out 's she considers the whole thing a swindle, 'n' 'f Mr. Kimball was n't rentin' his store o' her brother she sh'd tell him so to his face. She says the three-inch measure on the handle 's too short to be o' any real service on a farm, 'n' her opinion is 't Mr. Kimball keeps his sample dipped in kerosene or he never could snap it in 'n' out so quick. Anyhow it all comes in the end to the fact 't, havin' bought it, I 'll work it 'f I die f'r it, 'n' so Cousin Marion c'n have the cane, 'n' may she be everlastin'ly happy usin' it. I did n't get my trunk down 'cause I 'll have Friday to pack anyhow, 'n' any one c'n slide a trunk down a ladder any time, but n.o.body can't never slide nothin' up nowhere. Besides, I sh'd look like a fool puttin' back a trunk 't I 'd hauled out to visit a cousin who like enough died afore I was born, 'n' I ain't no fool,--never was 'n' never will be."

There was a short stop for a fresh supply of breath.

"I wonder 'f--" began Mrs. Lathrop.

"The difficulty o' all things in this world," Miss Clegg went on promptly, "is 't if you have any brains a _tall_ you 're bound to have so much work for 'em. Now, this findin' o' Cousin Marion no doubt looks simple enough to you 'n' the world in general, 'n' yet the more I turn her up 'n' down 'n' inside out the more new lights I get. When you come to consider 't I only found the letter this mornin', 'n' that it ain't supper-time yet, you c'n easy see 's my day's been more 'n full o' brain-work. Comin' up the street this afternoon, the question o' the possibility o' Cousin Marion's bein' poor come into my mind. I c'n speak out freely to you, Mrs. Lathrop, 'n' so I will remark 't I c'n guarantee 's father never give her nothin' o' late years, 'n' 'f she's poor it don't take no eagle eye to know jus' what'll happen when she gets my letter. 'F the letter hadn't been posted 'n' the sack gone to the train afore I thought o' this view o' the matter, I'm free to confess 's I never would 'a' posted it a _tall_. For there's no use denyin', Mrs. Lathrop, 't, 'f my visit to Cousin Marion sh'd lead to her askin' to borrow 's much 's a quarter, I sh'll bitterly regret ever havin' clawed her out from back o' that trunk-flap. There ain't no possible good 's c'n ever come o' lendin' money to them's ain't able to pay it back, 'n' I learned that lesson to my bitter cost once 'n' for all time when I had that little business with Sam Duruy. That took all the likin' to lend out o' me, 'n' Heaven help me 'f I ever forget it. I thought I was so safe, Mrs. Lathrop,--I looked in all four o' his hoofs, 'n' swished my handkerchief in each o' his eyes, 'n' he was certainly lively, so I planked down my little five dollars 'n' Sam was to keep on drivin' the horse. Well, you know 's well 's I do what happened, 'n' the skin brought seventy-five cents. Sam sued the railroad, 'n' the railroad asked why he did n't read the 'Look out for the Locomotive.' I told him to go into court 'n' swear 's he could n't read, but he said Judge Fitch used to be his school-teacher 'n'

knowed 's he could. 'N' then I offered to go to court myself 'n' swear on the Bible 's the whole town looked on him 's more 'n half a idiot, 'n' Mr. Duruy jus' sat right flat down on the whole thing. So they did n't even pay his lawyer, 'n' it goes without sayin' 't o' course he could n't pay me; 'n' then, do you know, Mrs. Lathrop, 'f he did n't have the impudence this very afternoon to stop me down in the square 'n' ask me 'f I would n't lend him ten cents on a rooster! I was pretty nigh to put out over that, I c'n a.s.sure you. I mus' 'a' stared at him f'r 's much 's ten seconds afore I sensed 't he was really fool enough to think 't mebbe I was fool enough too. 'N' then I let out at him. 'Not while I have the breath o' life in my body,' I says,--'n' it shook 's I said it,--'not 'f I know my own mind. What's to guarantee me,' I says, ''s your rooster won't take it into his head to go a-promenadin' on the railway track?' I says. He begin to tell 's how, even dead, the rooster was worth more 'n ten cents. 'I d'n' know about that,' I says, 'it don't strike me 's noways likely 't when he suddenly observes the engine 'most on top o' him, he's goin' to take the time 'n' trouble to lay his head square 'n' even across the rail, 'n' you know 's well 's I do 't no rooster killed cornerways ain't never goin' to bring no nickel apiece for his corners. No, Mister Sam Duruy,' I says, 'your lively horse's taught me a lesson,' I says, ''n'

hereafter I don't lend no money on so much 's a egg without I see a good curb-bit bought 'n' put in its mouth first,' I says; 'n' then I walked off, 'n' the end o' it all is 't if Cousin Marion's poor I certainly ain't very wild to have her find out 's I'm rich.

"But then, I ain't very anxious to have her rich either, I must say, for it don't take no blind man to figger out 't if she 's rich the money 'd ought to 'a' been mine. 'N' that 's a awful feelin', Mrs.

Lathrop,--the feelin' 's other folks 's rich on money 's 'd ought to 'a' been yours. I ain't sure 's I want to know Cousin Marion 'f such 's the facts o' her case, 'n' 's between her bein' poor 'n' wantin'

money o' me, 'n' her bein' rich on money right out o' my pocket, I feel like I mebbe clum that ladder this mornin' in a evil hour f'r my future peace o' mind.

"'N' then, too, 'f she 's rich I certainly can't go to see her without I buy me a new bonnet. 'F she 's rich, o' course I want her to see right off 's I 'm rich too, 'n' bein' 's we 're old friends 'n' alone here together, I c'n truthfully state 's she could n't in reason mistrust no such thing from my bonnet. It 's a good bonnet, 'n' it's been a good bonnet year in 'n' year out 'n' in rain 'n' shine turn an'

turn about, but I never was give to deceivin' myself no more nor a outsider, 'n' so I will frankly say 't it 's long past its first shininess. Miss White 's freshened it up two times for me, 'n' I always have new ribbons to tie it every other Easter, but still, in the box or out o' the box, its day is past for lookin' brand-new, 'n'

I don't deny the truth 's a more foolish woman might feel some inclined to do. So, such bein' the case, Cousin Marion 'n' a new bonnet comes to one 'n' the same thing, 'n' I can't say 's bonnet-buyin' 's a way o' spendin' money 's is over-agreeable to me.

However, 'f it is to be it is to be, 'n' I sha'n't cry over nothin'. I 'll buy the bonnet, 'n' I guess 'f she talks to me about her money I c'n come out right quick 'n' sharp 'n' talk about mine. 'N' I guess I c'n talk her down--I 'll try good 'n' hard, I know _that_. 'N' 'f she sh'd put me beyond all patience, I 'll jus' make no bones about it, but get right up 'n' smash her flat with her own letter o' fifty years ago. I don't believe n.o.body c'd put on airs in the face o' their own name signed to bein' saved from want by the kind, graspin' hand o' my dead 'n' gone father."

Susan ceased speaking, and rose suddenly to her feet.

"I must go," she said; "it's time I was seein' about supper, 'n' it's been a hard day first 'n' last. It's been 'xcitin', 'n' I cleaned the garret too, 'n' then my mind 's all upset 's to travelling 'n' I've got to consider a lot afore I c'n decide 's to anythin'. 'N' I only feel plum sure o' one thing, 'n' that is 's I don't want to buy no new bonnet. Bonnets is a awful waste o' money, 'n' I've got nothin' inside o' me 's cries out to extravagance. But speakin' o' waste reminds me over again 's I don't want to throw no more time away on you, so, 's I'm always frank 'n' open, I'll jus' say so 'n' go now."

The letter which Susan Clegg had mailed to her cousin "Marion Prim, Knoxville," did actually reach the hands of the person for whom it was intended, and the evening of the second day after brought an answer which the two friends studied together in a mutual intellectual darkness.

"Says she's lived for fifty years on the motto, 'S'fficient unto the day 's the evil thereof,' 'n' now my letter's come,"--it was thus that Susan voiced her understanding of the matter,--"says I c'n come 'f I want to, 'n' mebbe it'll be some consolation! I don't call that by no means cordial, but I 'm bound to consider 't 'f Cousin Marion 's any kin to father she could n't naturally be very open-hearted, 'n' I must overlook her with a good grace 'n' a clear conscience. I 'll go because I 've made up my mind to go, but I won't take no trunk nor yet buy no new bonnet."

Mrs. Lathrop offering no counter advice, Miss Clegg returned to the shelter of her own roof, and to judge by the banging and squeaking that ensued, burglars were barred out from even daring to dream of a possible raid during the absence which was to be upon the following day. About nine o'clock peace fell over all and lasted until the dawn of the eventful Sat.u.r.day.

When Susan was all ready to start for the station, she called her friend to the fence and shook hands with her so warmly that the tears overflowed the awe in the other's eyes.

"Good-bye, Mrs. Lathrop," she said with a solemnity that had nothing to relieve its sombreness and much to deepen the impressiveness of the moment. "Good-bye! I 'm goin' now, 'n' I sh'll be back this evenin', 'n' so help me G.o.d while I'm gone, for I have a goose-flesh kind o' a sensation 't I'm goin' to get a surprise."

Mrs. Lathrop clung to her in a heart-wrung silence. Both the friends were deeply affected, feeling that this journey was a something quite apart from Susan's ordinary every-day little expeditions to the city.

Finally Miss Clegg withdrew her hand, straightened out the resultant wrinkles in her mitt, and stalked away. Mrs. Lathrop sighed sadly, returned to her own rocker, and entered upon the course of a long day of patient waiting.

It was about three in the afternoon that, to her great surprise, she saw Miss Clegg returning. There was something altogether new and strange in the gait of the latter while she was at a distance, and as she drew nearer Mrs. Lathrop's eyes and mouth opened together. The nearer that Susan drew the more provocative of astonishment was her general appearance. To sum up the whole state of the case in as few words as possible, I will say that she seemed to have barely survived some hitherto totally unknown species of catastrophe. Mrs. Lathrop, much overcome, ran to the door and cried,--

"Come over! I've got the kettle--"

"I was comin' anyhow," Susan called feebly back, and wearily dragging herself through the gate, along the walk, and up the steps, sank down finally in one of the kitchen chairs.

Mrs. Lathrop hastened to fortify her with hot tea and gingerbread. She ate and drank in silence for some time, only volunteering, as she took the third cup,--

"I ain't had nothin' since I left home."

"Didn't you find your--" Mrs. Lathrop began eagerly.

"Cousin?" said the traveller, in a tone that suggested revelations as yet unrevealed,--"oh, yes, Mrs. Lathrop, I found my cousin."

Mrs. Lathrop felt herself to be silenced, and spoke no more. Miss Clegg drank all the tea and ate all the gingerbread. Then, when there was nothing else left to do, she declared herself satisfied, and fixing her gaze mercilessly upon the quaking listener, discharged her first shot.

"I wish I'd never gone!"