"Who was you thinkin' o'—" Mrs. Lathrop asked, resuming her former occupation. 

 "The minister," replied Miss Clegg. "I did n't stop to consider very much, but it struck me 's polite to begin with him. I c'd marry him without waitin' for father, too, 'cause a minister could n't in reason find fault over another man's bein' always to home. O' course he would n't be still like father is, but I ain't never been one to look gift-horses in the mouth, 'n' I d'n' know 's I 'd ought to expect another man jus'  like father in one life. Mother often said father's advantages was great, for you always knew where he was, 'n' 'f you drew down the shade you c'd tell him it was rainin' 'n' he could n't never contradick." 

 Mrs. Lathrop nodded acquiescently but made no comment. 

 Miss Clegg withdrew somewhat from her confidentially inclined attitude. 

 "I won't be out in the mornin'," she said. "I sh'll want to dust father 'n' turn him out o' the window afore Mrs. Brown's son comes. After he's gone I'll wave my dish-towel, 'n' then you come out 'n' I 'll tell you what he says." 

 They separated for the night, and Susan went to sleep with her own version of love's young dream. 

 Mrs. Brown's son arrived quite promptly the next morning. He drove up in Mr. Brown's buggy, and Amelia Fitch held the horse while he went inside to inspect Mr. Clegg. The visit did not consume more than ten minutes, and then he hurried out to the gate and was off. 

 The buggy was hardly out of sight up the road when Miss Clegg emerged from her kitchen door, her face bearing an imprint of deep and thorough disgust. 

 "Well, Mrs. Lathrop, I don't think much o'  that young man," she announced in a tone of unmitigated disapproval; "'peared to me like he was in a hurry to get done with father 's quick 's he could just so 's to be back beside Amelia Fitch. I 'd venture a guess that 'f you was to ask him this minute he 's forgot every word I said to him already. I asked him to set some sort of a figger on father, 'n' he would n't so much 's set down himself. Stood on one leg 'n' backed towards the door every other word, 'n' me, father's only child, standin' there at his mercy. Said 't last 's he might die to-morrow 'n'  might live twenty years. I tell you my patience pretty near went at that. I don't call such a answer no answer a tall. I 've often thought both them things myself, 'n' me no doctor. Particularly about 

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