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 nobody 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 Saturday. 

 When Susan was all ready 

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