Susan departed very early and did not get back till very late—so late in fact that her next-door neighbor had the time to become more than a little anxious as to the possibilities of some mischance having befallen her two-dollar bill. 

 But towards eight o'clock signs of life next door appeared to the anxious watcher in the Lathrop kitchen window, and one minute later she was on her way across. She found the front door, which was commonly open, to be uncommonly shut, and was forced to rap loudly and wait lengthily ere the survivor of the Fire-Sale came to let her in. 

 Then when the door did open the figure which appeared in the opening was such as to startle even the phlegmatically disposed chewer of clover. 

 "My heavens alive, Susan, whatever is the matter with—" 

 Susan backed faintly into the hall so as to allow the other to enter. 

 "I'm worn to a frazzle—that's all!" she said weakly and wearily. 

 They turned into the parlor, where the lamp was burning, and Mrs. Lathrop gave a little frightened scream: 

 "Susan! why, you look half—" 

 Miss Clegg collapsed at once heavily upon the haircloth-covered sofa. 

 "I guess you'd better make me some tea," she suggested, and shut her eyes. 

 Mrs. Lathrop had no doubt whatever on the subject. Hurrying out to the kitchen, she brewed a cup of the strongest possible tea in the fewest possible moments, and brought it in to the traveller. The latter drank with satisfaction, then leaned back with a sigh. 

 "It was a auction!" she said in tones that gasped. 

 Mrs. Lathrop could restrain her anxiety no longer. 

 "Did you get anything with my—" she asked. 

 "Yes; it's out in the hall with my shawl." 

 "What did—" 

 "It's a parrot," said Susan. 

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