Lathrop, but if Mr. Sperrit's got it in him to talk like the minister
did, I'm free to confess 't, I'd rather be alone to listen. 'N'
really, Mrs. Lathrop, I must go in now. I've got bread a-risin' 'n'
dishes to do, 'n', as I told you before, this is father's day to be
all but scraped 'n' varnished."

Mrs. Lathrop withdrew her support from the fence, and Miss Clegg did
likewise. Each returned up her own path to her own domicile, and it
was long after that day's tea-time before the cord of friendship got
knotted up again.

"Did you go to the farm?" Mrs. Lathrop asked. "I was to the Sewin'
So--"

"Yes, I went," said Miss Clegg, her air decidedly weary; "oh, yes, I
went. I had a nice ride too, 'n' I do believe I saw the whole farm,
from the pigs to the punkins."

There was a pause, and Mrs. Lathrop filled it to the brim with
expectancy until she could wait no longer.

"Are you--" she finally asked.

"No," said her friend, sharply, "I ain't. He wasn't a bit spry to hop
at the chance, 'n' Lord knows there wa'n't no great urgin' on my part.
I asked him why he ain't never married, 'n' he laughed like it was a
funny subjeck, 'n' said 's long 's he never did it 't that was the
least o' _his_ troubles. I didn't call that a very encouragin'
beginnin', but my mind was made up not to let it be _my_ fault 'f the
horse was a dead waste o' fifty cents, 'n' so I said to him 't if he'd