his mouth aggravates me so I d'n' know what to do some days, but still
when all's said 'n' done a sparrow's nest in the mouth of your
father's tombstone ain't any such trial as gettin' a child to bed
nights 'n' keepin' its hands clean would be. 'N' if I had adopted a
child, Mrs. Lathrop, I sh'd cert'nly 'a' kept it clean, f'r, if you'll
excuse me remarkin' it right in your face, I was raised to wash 'n'
dust 'n' be neat. That's why that nest in my lion's mouth with the
straws stickin' every way do try me so. Mr. Kimball 's forever askin'
me if the lion 's raisin' a beard against the winter, 'n' the other
day he said he was give to understand 't it was tippin' a little, 'n'
I was recommended to brace him up by givin' him raw eggs for his
breakfast. Well, maybe all Mr. Kimball says is very witty, but it's a
poor kind o' wit, I think. He makes good enough jokes about the rest
of the c'mmunity, but I may tell you in confidence, Mrs. Lathrop, 't I
ain't never heard one joke 't he's told on me 't I considered even
half-way amusin'."

Mrs. Lathrop shook her head sadly.

Then they went in.

The Sunday which followed this particular Saturday was of a heat truly
tropical. All the blinds of the Clegg and Lathrop houses stayed
tightly closed all day, and it is only fair to surmise that those who
remained behind them were not sorry that the minister's absence
allowed them to do so with a clear conscience.

But about half-past seven in the evening Susan's shutters began to
bang open with a succession of blast-like reports, and shortly after
she emerged from her kitchen door and started down town. Mrs. Lathrop,