"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 

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