Susan Clegg and Her Neighbors\' Affairs
A >> Anne Warner >> Susan Clegg and Her Neighbors\' AffairsSusan Clegg
and
Her Neighbors' Affairs
By Anne Warner
_Author of "Susan Clegg and her Friend Mrs. Lathrop," "The Rejuvenation
of Aunt Mary," "A Woman's Will," etc._
Boston
Little, Brown, and Company
1906
Copyright, 1904,
By The Red Book Corporation.
Copyright, 1905,
By The Century Company.
Copyright, 1905,
By The Bobbs Merrill Company.
Copyright, 1906,
By Little, Brown, and Company.
_All rights reserved_
Published June, 1906
THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A.
[Illustration: "It's a brand-new one, fer the price-tag's still hangin'
on the back."]
_PREFATORY NOTE_
_"Mrs. Lathrop's Love Affair" appeared in "The Century Magazine" in
1905. "The Wolf at Susan's Door" was published in "The Reader's
Magazine" in the early part of the present year, and "Old Man Ely's
Proposal" is printed for the first time in this volume. The original
version of "A Very Superior Man" appeared in "The Red Book."_
* * * * *
CONTENTS
MRS. LATHROP'S LOVE AFFAIR
Part First. The Deacon's Dilemma
Part Second. The Automobile
OLD MAN ELY'S PROPOSAL
THE WOLF AT SUSAN'S DOOR
Part First. Miss Clegg's Speculations
Part Second. Gran'ma Mullins's Woe
Part Third. Lucy Dill's Wedding
Part Fourth. Mr. Jilkins's Hat
A VERY SUPERIOR MAN
* * * * *
MRS. LATHROP'S LOVE AFFAIR
PART FIRST
THE DEACON'S DILEMMA
Miss Clegg was getting her own favorite tea. This always consisted of
itself, toast, and a slice of bacon; and she apparently took as much
pleasure in the preparation of the meal as if it were not the ten
thousandth of its kind which she had cooked and eaten. As she hustled
and bustled here and there, her manner seemed even more sprightly than
usual; and it was only occasionally, when her glance fell upon the light
shining across from her friend's kitchen window opposite, that her
cheerfulness knew any diminution. But there seemed to be some sad
influence in the effect of the rays of Mrs. Lathrop's lamp on this
particular night; and even if its effect on Susan was merely transitory,
it was not the less marked each time that it occurred.
Once, just as she was carrying the tea-pot from the stove to the table,
she voiced her thoughts aloud.
"I shall have to tell her to-night, so I may 's well make up my mind to
it," she said firmly; and then, after drawing up a chair by making a
hook out of one of her feet, she sat down and sought strength for the
ordeal in a more than ordinarily hearty supper.
It was a bleak, cold night in early November, and the wind whistled
drearily outside. There was a chill atmosphere everywhere, and a hint of
coming winter.
"I shall wear my cap an' my cardigan jacket to go over there," the
neighborly disposed Susan reflected as she carefully drank the last of
the tea. "Dear, dear! but it's goin' to be a terrible shock to her, poor
thing!"
Then she arose and carefully and scrupulously put the kitchen back into
its customary order. Having removed the last trace of any one's ever
having cooked or eaten there, she lighted a candle and sought her wraps
in the icy upper regions of the house. As she passed the parlor door she
shivered involuntarily.
"I expect he was cold," she murmured; "I know I was. But I could n't see
my way to sittin' in the kitchen with a caller: I never was one to do
nothin' improper, an' I was n't goin' to begin at my age."
Then she went upstairs and got out the cap and jacket. It was a man's
cap, with ear-tabs, and not at all in keeping with the fair Susan's
features; but she gave no heed to such matters and tied it on with two
firm jerks.
"I jus' do hope," she ejaculated as she struggled into the cardigan, "'t
she won't faint. It'll surely come very sudden on her, too, an' all my
talk 's to the advantage o' stayin' unmarried, an' the times an' times I
've said as we was always goin' to stay jus' so--"
The termination of the jacket-buttoning terminated the soliloquy also.
Miss Clegg went downstairs and warmed her hands at the kitchen stove,
preparatory to locking up. Ten minutes later she was tapping at Mrs.
Lathrop's door.
"I must n't tell her too quick," she reminded herself as she waited to
be let in; "I must lead up to it like they do after a railroad smash.
Mrs. Lathrop ain't what you call over-nervous; still, she has got
feelin's, an' in a time like this they ought to be a little steered out
for. If she saw him comin' in or goin' out, that 'll help some."
Mrs. Lathrop not answering to the tap, the caller knocked again, and
then tried to open the door from without, but found it to be bolted
inside.
"I s'pose she's asleep, with her feet in the oven," Susan said in a
spirit of rebellion and disapproval mixed, and then she battered madly
for entrance.
Mrs. Lathrop was asleep, and did have her feet in the oven. She was
particularly fond of finishing up her daily desultoriness in that
manner. It took time slightly to disturb her slumber, more time yet to
awaken her fully, and still again more time to get her to the door and
open it.
"Well, _Susan_!" she said in a tone of cordial surprise when she saw who
it was; "the idea of--"
"He wanted as I should see you to-night, rain or shine," said the
friend, advancing into the middle of the kitchen.
"Who wanted?"
"The deacon. Did n't you see him this afternoon?"
Mrs. Lathrop furtively rubbed her eyes.
"Oh, yes, yes--I--" she began.
"Well, he wanted as I should come right over an' tell you to-night. An'
I told him 't I would."
"Tell me wh--"
"I shall break it to you as easy as I can, Mrs. Lathrop; but there 's no
denyin' as it 'll come very sharp on you at the end."
Mrs. Lathrop ceased to rub her eyes, and a vague apprehension opened
them effectually instead.
"I presume, if you saw him at all, you saw how long he stayed?"
"Yes, I--"
"All of two hours, an' his talk was as dumfounderin' on me as it will be
on you. I 'd never thought o' any such doin's in this direction. I
always looked on as a complete outsider, did n't you?"
"I don't un--"
Susan had shed her jacket and cap while talking; she now took a chair
and surveyed her friend with the air of one who has pain to inflict and
yet is firm.
Mrs. Lathrop looked frankly troubled.
"Well, Mrs. Lathrop, you 'd ought to know me well enough, after all
these years, to know as I shall make this as easy as I can for you.
Perhaps the best way 'll be to go 'way back to the beginnin' an' speak
o' when Mrs. White died. It'll be a proper leadin' up, for if she had
n't died, he 'd never 'a' come to see me this afternoon, an' I 'd never
'a' come to see you to-night. Howsumsever, she did die; an', bein' dead,
I will say for her husband as you don't find chick or child in town to
deny as a nicer, tidier, more biddable little man never lived; 'n' 's
far as my personal feelin's go, I should think 't any woman might
consider it nothin' but a joy to get a man 's is always so long on the
door-mat 'n' so busy with his tie 's the deacon is. He got some wore out
toward the last o' her illness, for she was give' up in September 'n'
died in July; but even then I 've heard Mrs. Allen say 's it was jus'
pretty to see him putterin' aroun' busy 's a bee, tryin' to keep dusted
up for the funeral any minute." Susan paused to sigh.
"Seems like she did n't die but yesterday," she said reminiscently;
"don't seem like it can possibly be over a year. I never can but
remember them last days: they stand out afore me like a needle in a
camel's eye. Nobody could n't say 's everythin' was n't done; they had
two doctors 'n' a bill 't the drug-store, but the end come at last. She
begin to sink 'n' sink, 'n' young Dr. Brown said that way o' sinkin'
away was always, to his mind, one o' the most unfortunate features o'
dyin'. He said he knowed lots o' people 's 'd be alive 'n' well now if
they could just o' been kept from that sinkin' away. Old Dr. Carter told
Mrs. Jilkins his theory was 't while the pulse beats there 's life; but
even he had to admit 's Mrs. White was about beat out. 'N' it was so,
too; for she died while they was talkin', 'n' the deacon just beginnin'
on cleanin' the pantry shelves. He had to put all the dishes back on top
o' the old papers; 'n' any one could see how hard it was for him, for he
'd counted on havin' everythin' spick 'n' span at the end.
"Well, that was a busy time! It 's too bad you have to miss so much,
Mrs. Lathrop; now, that day at Mrs. White's would 'a' done you a world
o' good. There was a great deal o' company, 'n' the newspaper man led
off, comin' to know what she died of. He explained he had to know right
away, 'cause if she did n't die o' nothin' in particular, they needed
the extra line for stars to show up a cod-liver oil advertisement. I
said the deacon was the one to ask, 'n' we hunted high 'n' low for him
until Mrs. Jilkins remembered 's he'd took them keys Mrs. White always
had under her pillow 'n' gone up attic to see what trunks they fitted.
Mrs. Macy had to holler him down; 'n', my! but he was snappy. He said,
'Ask Dr. Brown,' 'n' then he clumb straight back up his ladder; 'n' Dr.
Brown said 's she died o' the complete seclusion of her aspirational 'n'
bronchoid tubes. I could see 't the newspaper man did n't know how to
spell it, 'n' he told young Dr. Brown any such doin's 'd squeeze the
cod-liver oil over into next week, which could n't be considered for a
minute. 'N' then he went on to say 't if folks want to die o' more 'n
one line, they 've got to do it Tuesday night, or at the very latest
Wednesday afore ten o'clock, if it's to be got in right.
"Well, next come the funeral; 'n' I will say right here 'n' now 't the
way 's the widows closed in around Deacon White was enough to send any
man up a ladder. There was Mrs. Macy 's was actually ready 'n' waitin'
to lay Mrs. White out afore she was dead. 'N' Mrs. Macy is n't one 's
any one 'd rashly set about makin' love to, I should n't suppose. I 've
always understood 's there 's a while 't they sit on laps; 'n' the lap
ain't built 's could take pleasure in holdin' Mrs. Macy. But she was on
hand, all the same, 'n' 's beamin' 's if she stood a show.
"'N' then there was Gran'ma Mullins! I was perfectly dumb did up at the
doin's o' Gran'ma Mullins. I 'd always looked on her 's a very deservin'
mother to Hiram, 'n' one 's any one c'd trust 's to doughnuts for
sociables; but when she come to Mrs. White's funeral with her hair
frizzed, I give up. Gran'ma Mullins--at her age--at the funeral of a
widower's dead wife--'n' her hair frizzed! Well, Mrs. Lathrop, if I was
on my way to my own hangin' I sh'd still say 't to my order o' thinkin'
it wasn't proper mournin'.
"Not 's there was n't others up to the same doin's. The first night Mrs.
Allen sent Polly over with one dish o' ice-cream 'n' one slice o' cake
for the deacon's supper,--'n' me there 's plain 's day sittin' up
alternate with Mr. Jilkins. 'N' Mrs. Allen did n't make no bones about
it, neither; she said frank 'n' open 't her disapp'intment over Sam
Duruy 'd aged Polly right up to where only a elderly man 'd be anywise
fit f'r her, 'n' she said she was teachin' her 'Silver threads among the
gold' 'n' how to read aloud 't the tip-top o' your voice. I did n't
discourage her none. I told her 't there was n't many like the deacon,
'n' that come true right off; fer we heard a awful crash, 'n' it was
then 't he fell through the ceilin' into Phoebe's room 'n' a pretty job
we had sweepin' up his dust.
"The minister come in while we was sweepin'. He certainly does come to
call always at very uncomfortable times; but I suppose everybody 's got
to have a cross, 'n' ours 's him. Anyway, he wanted to know about if it
'd be agreeable to the family to have Mrs. White discoursed on 's a
faithful handmaid, 'cause he did n't want to have to alter her after he
'd got her all copied. He said there was the choice o' a bondwoman o'
the Lord 'n' a light in Israel, too. We had to go 'n' holler the deacon
a long time, 'n' finally we found him out settin' a hen. I did n't think
's he 'd ought to 'a' set a hen the day o' his wife's funeral--I did n't
think much o' settin' hens any time; it's set 'n' set, 'n' then half the
time all you get is a weasel.
"Well, he come in at last, 'n' he would n't hear o' havin' his wife
called a handmaid, 'cause, he said, it was him 's had always done all
the work. The minister said it was astonishin' what 'Liza Em'ly could
get through in a mornin', 'n' then he coughed; 'n' Mrs. Macy said 't
'Liza Em'ly was very helpful for a child o' her age, 'n' then she
coughed; 'n' then the deacon went back to his hen, 'n' the minister
sighed 'n' went, too."
Mrs. Lathrop herself sighed as Susan paused.
"I remember--" she said slowly.
"It was a nice funeral, though," her friend continued; "I never see a
nicer one, even if Mrs. White was n't able to look after nothin'
herself. Mr. Kimball got down to business like it 'd always been his
business, 'n' the way he hustled things through was a lesson to them 's
takes a whole afternoon to one member of a family. He took all the
table-leaves 'n' laid 'em from chair to chair, so 's everybody had a
seat; 'n' then, 's folks come in, he had Billy hand 'em each a fan with
his advertisement on one side 'n' two rows o' readin' on the other, so
's no one got dull waitin'.
"'N' then I never shall forget what a neat job he done with the dove.
You know 's well 's I do 't it 's hard on the dove, 'n' always has been
hard on the dove, to go to every funeral 'n' be the window advertisement
between deaths. I 've told you before how it was freely remarked in the
square, after Mrs. Dill's burial, as the way the dove looked there was
suthin' borderin' on scandalous. He 'd hovered with a motto till his
wings was 's dirty inside 's outside, 'n' they 'd tipped his head back
to look up resurrected or front to look down dejected till at Mrs.
Dill's all he was fit for was to sit on the foot of her 'n' mourn, with
the hat-pins 's held him steady stickin' out in all directions. Some
folks as was really very sorry about Mrs. Dill 'most died when they see
the dove, 'n' Mr. Kimball (he had n't bought the business then) remarked
openly 's his view was as he 'd better go to two or three baptisms afore
he tried another funeral. Such bein' the case, it was no more 'n natural
's we sh'd all feel a little worried thinkin' o' Mrs. White's bein' next
to stand the dove; 'n' Mrs. Sperrit said frank an' open 't to her order
o' thinkin' the deacon 'd ought to jus' forbid it. We all saw the sense
in her view; but even if we did, you know 's well 's I do it 'd be a
pretty delicate matter in this c'mmunity to be the first to deliberately
skip the dove."
"I think he's pret--" said Mrs. Lathrop, musingly.
"I won't say 't I don't think so, too," said Susan; "but I never was one
to turn a blind eye to the dirt on the outside o' nothin',--'s you know
to your cost, Mrs. Lathrop,--'n' such bein' the case, I certainly did
feel to regret 's the dove 'd had such long wear 'n' tear afore it come
Mrs. White's turn to be sat on. I was fond o' Mrs. White; we had n't
spoke in years, owin' to her bein' too deaf to hear, but what I see of
her from the street was always pleasant, 'n' I did n't like to think 's
maybe anythin' 'd be left out o' the last of her. So we let it all go,
'n' we certainly had our reward for so doin' when we see the result; for
Mr. Kimball did a fine job then 'n' there, 'n' when he was dry-cleaned
inside 'n' out, 'n' his beak 'n' feet painted, 'n' new beads for
eyes--well, all I can say is 't I wish you 'd been there to see him,
that 's all. He took his wings completely off, so 's to give him the air
o' bein' folded up; 'n' then he stuck a gilt arrow in his heart 'n' laid
him cornerways on the deacon's cross o' tiger-lilies. 'N' he did n't
stop 't that, neither; he took his wings 'n' sewed 'em to each side of a
red heart left over from a euchre-party, 'n' laid the whole on Mr.
Jilkins's piller o' pansies, so the deacon could n't in conscience feel
't anythin' 's he 'd paid for was wasted. I 've said all along, 'n' I'll
say ag'in here 'n' now, 't it was all one o' the prettiest things I ever
see; 'n' I was n't the only one 's felt that way, for I 've heard lots
o' folks say since 's they 'll want the dove just so for themselves."
Mrs. Lathrop turned a little uneasily; Susan did not appear to notice
the indication of a possible impatience.
"It was all a great success," she went on calmly. "The minister's
discourse was very fine; only when he prayed for consolation we all
knowed he meant 'Liza Em'ly. All but the deacon, that is. I guess the
deacon was thinkin' more o' Gran'ma Mullins 'n any one else 't first;
Mrs. Jilkins told me he asked how old she was, comin' back in the
carriage."
"I allers thought--" said Mrs. Lathrop.
"So did a good many people. I don't know 's that was surprisin', either;
for it's a well-known fact 's they was fond o' each other forty or fifty
years back. She 's got a daguerre'type o' him 's is so old 't you can't
be very sure whether it 's him, after all. She says she ain't positive
herself, 'cause she had one o' her cousin 's shot himself by accident on
his way to the war, 'n' the wreath o' flowers stamped on the red velvet
inside was just the same in both cases. You have to go by the light 'n'
tip him a good while to say for sure whether he's got a collar on or
not, 'n' you could n't swear to his havin' on anythin' else if you was
to turn him round 'n' round till doomsday. She had that picture in a box
with her first hair 'n' Hiram's first tooth 'n' a nut 't she said the
deacon did a hole in with his knife when they was children together one
day. She showed 'em all to me one time when I was there; I did n't think
much o' the nut, I must say. But I will say as it seemed to make her
happy, so I jus' remarked 't it was surprisin' how foolish we got 's we
got old, 'n' let it go 't that. It was a while after 's he took her to
Meadville to the circus; it 's a well-known fact 's she was fool enough
to look upon bein' took to a circus 's next thing to bein' asked out 'n'
out. She come up to tell me all about it afterward."
"'N' yet--" said Mrs. Lathrop.
"It just shows the vanity o' feelin' sure o' mortal man," continued
Susan. "She was sure, 'n' Mrs. Allen was sure, 'n' the minister had
faith; 'n' then there was Mrs. Macy, too. There was a while when it
looked to me 's if swoopin' down 'n' then pinnin' flat c'd catch
anythin,' 't Mrs. Macy 'd have the deacon, she was so everlastingly on
hand. Why, I never walked by his house but I met her, 'n' that was far
too often to ever by any chance be called a' accident. But she was too
open; my own experience is 't bein' frank 'n' free is time throwed away
on men. If anythin' serious is to be done with a man, it's got to be
done from behind a woodpile. I had some little dealin's with men in the
marryin' line once, 'n' I found 'em very shy; tamin' gophers is sleepin'
in the sun beside grabbin' a man 's dead against bein' grabbed. I don't
say 's it can't be done, but I will say 't it 's hard in the first 'n'
harder in the last, when you 've got him 'n' he's got you, like the
minister 's got his wife."
"But Mrs. Macy ain't--" protested Mrs. Lathrop.
"No; 'n' it's her own fault, too. He told me this afternoon 's the way
she smiled on him right in the first days made the marrow run up 'n'
down his back. He said he c'd 'a' stood lots o' things, but no human
bein' but gets mad bein' forever smiled at. Then she knit him things. He
says she knit him a pair o' snap-on slippers 's Heaven 'll surely
forgive him if he ever see the like of. He said they stuck out 's far
behind 's in front, 'n' all in the world 't he c'd do was to sit
perfectly still in the middle of 'em 'n' content himself with viewin'
'em 's slippers. But he says the worst was, she cooked him things; he
says he won't say what he 's paid young Dr. Brown for advice regardin'
things 's she 's cooked him, not to speak o' that time he cut himself so
bad pryin' at one o' her undercrusts. 'N,' just between you 'n' me, Mrs.
Lathrop, he says it 's a secret 's he will carry to his grave unsealed
as she give him a crock o' gherkins on his birthday, with a pair o'
buttonhole scissors at the bottom.
"He said he jus' felt he 'd enjoy to have the revenge o' stayin' single.
But he said it did n't take him long to see 's stayin' single is a
privilege 's no woman 's goin' to allow to a man whose wife 's dead. He
says the way he 's been chased 's all but killin'. He says there 's Mrs.
Allen firin' Polly at him when he goes over there for his dinner, 'n'
the minister tellin' him every Sunday 'n' prayer-meetin' how 'Liza Em'ly
is shootin' up. He says Gran'ma Mullins is forever referrin' to his
youth, 'n' Mrs. Macy is forever smilin'. He says he could easy keep his
house alone,--he says he understands a house from moth-balls to
quicklime,--but they won't let him. He says he 's not only town
property, but he 's town talk 's well. He says Mrs. Craig stopped him in
the square 'n' asked him point-blank if he'd remembered to put on his
flannels day before yesterday.
"I tell you, Mrs. Lathrop, it's plain 't that man has suffered. If you
'd 'a' seen him, your heart would 'a' softened like mine did. 'N' him
such a neat little bald-headed man without any wishin' o' anybody
anythin'! I give him a lot o' sympathy. I told him 't I'd knowed what it
was to have a lot o' folks seem bound to marry you in the teeth o' your
own will. I told him the whole community was witness to how I was set
upon after father's death 'n' well-nigh drove mad. He said he wished he
had my grit 'n' maybe he'd make a try to fight like I did, but he said
he was beat out. He said if he is n't up 'n' the smoke pourin' out o'
his chimney at six sharp, all the single women in town is lined up in
front to know what's happened. He says if he was married, it goes
without sayin' 's they'd both be allowed to sleep in peace. He says if
he lights a candle at night, he hears of it next day. He said if he gets
a letter in a strange hand, it's all over town 's some strange woman 's
made his acquaintance. He says the whole world feels free to dust his
hat or w'isk his coat if he stops to chat a minute. He says, such bein'
the case, he 's made up his mind 't he's got to get married. He says he
's considered very carefully. He says he knows jus' the kind o' woman.
He says he 's been fretted, 'n' he don't never want to be fretted no
more."
Miss Clegg paused, as if the crisis had arrived. She surveyed her friend
with a meaning eye, and Mrs. Lathrop rather shrunk together and
endeavored to look courageous.
"Up to now 's been all preparin' your mind. Do you feel prepared? Are
you ready?"
"Yes, I--" gasped the victim.
"Left to myself, I sh'd 'a' waited till mornin', but he wanted you to
know to-night. He know's I'm your dearest friend. He said if I didn't
tell you right off, it might get to you some other way 'n' be a' awful
blow. He said he had to go to Meadville to-morrow, so he might mention
it down-town to-night, 'n' 'most any one might let it drop in on you. I
see the p'int o' his reasonin', 'n' so--"
"Susan," said the friend, her feelings completely overflowing all
bounds--"oh, Susan, are you really a-goin' to marry--"
Susan's expression altered triumphantly.
"Why, Mrs. Lathrop," she said, with keen enjoyment, "it ain't me 's he
wants to marry; it 's you!"
PART SECOND
THE AUTOMOBILE
Mrs. Lathrop collapsed backward and downward, her eyes closed, her mouth
opened, her hands fell at her sides, her feet flew out in front of her.
Never in the history of the world were the words "This is so sudden!"
more vividly illustrated.
Susan sat bolt upright opposite and surveyed her friend's emotion with
an expression of calm and interested neutrality.
After a while Mrs. Lathrop's eyes began to open and her mouth to close;
she gathered her hands into her lap, and her feet under her skirt,
saying weakly:
"Well, I never hear nothin' to beat--"
"I ain't surprised 't your takin' it to heart like that," said the
imparter of news. "I may tell you in confidence 't I was nigh to laid out
myself in the first hearin' of it. I looked upon it jus' as you did, an'
jus' as anybody in their common senses naturally would. It was n't no
more 'n was to be expected that me, bein' neat like himself an'
unmarried, too, sh'd 'a' struck him 's just about what he was lookin'
for. I 'm younger 'n Gran'ma Mullins 'n' Mrs. Macy, an' older 'n 'Liza
Em'ly an' Polly Ann. I 've got property, 'n' nobody can 't say 's I have
n't always done my duty by whatever crossed my path, even if was nothin'
but snow in the winter. All the time 't he was talkin' I was thinkin',
'n' I tell you, Mrs. Lathrop, it's pretty hard work to smile 'n' look
interested in a man's meanderin's while you 're tryin' to figure on how
you can will your money safe away from him. I was n't calc'latin' on
havin' Deacon White get any of my money, I c'n tell you, an' I meant to
have that understood right in the beginnin'. Maybe he would n't 'a' liked
it; but if he had n't 'a' liked it, he c'd 'a' give me right square up.
Lord knows, I never was after him with no net; I don't set about gettin'
what I want that way. 'N' I never for one minute have thought o' wantin'
the deacon. I 'm used to lookin' everythin' square in the face, 'n' no
one as has got eyes could look the deacon in the face 'n' want him. 'N'
the more they turned him round 'n' round, the less they'd want him. It
ain't in reason's the friend could be found to deny 't he 's as
bow-legged as they make 'em. An' then there's his ears! A woman could,
maybe, overlook the bow-legs if she held the newspaper high enough; but I
don't believe 's any one in kingdom come could overlook them ears. Mr.
Kimball says Belgian hares an' Deacon White 's both designed to be
catched by their ears. I looked at him to-day 'n' figured on maybe tryin'
to tame 'em in a little with a tape nightcap; but then I says to myself,
I says: 'No; if he 's to be my husband, I 'll probably have so much to
overlook that them ears 'll soon be mice to the mountain o' the rest,'
an' so I give up the idea. I had bother enough with tryin' to see where I
'd put him, fer I certainly would n't consider movin' down to his house
for a minute, 'n' it was a question 's to a stove in father's room or
givin' him double windows for a weddin' present.