approached the boundary, she saw Susan standing in one of her upstairs
windows and yelling at the top of her voice. Mrs. Lathrop paused for
no conventionalities of civilization. She hoisted herself over the
fence in a fashion worthy a man or a monkey, ran across the Clegg
yard, entered the kitchen door, stumbled breathlessly up the dark back
stairs, and gasped, grabbing Susan hard by the elbow,--

"What _is_ it, for pity's--"

Susan was all colors and shaking as if with the ague.

"You never told me 's it 'd work so quick," she cried out.

"What would--"

"The feathers!"

"Whose feathers?"

"Father's feathers."

"Lord have mercy, Susan, you don't mean--"

"Yes, I do."

"He ain't never--"

"Yes, he is."

Mrs. Lathrop stood stricken.