"It does beat me, Mrs. Lathrop," she began, "how you can potter over
that quilt year in and year out. I sh'd think you'd be so dead-sick o'
the sight o' them pieces 't you'd be glad to dump the whole in the
fire. I don't say but the idea is a nice one, an' you know 's well as
I do that when they're too frayed to wear every one's nothin' but glad
to save you their bonnet-strings, but all the same my own feelin' in
the matter is 't a thing that ain't come to sewin' in two years ain't
never goin' to come to bindin' in my lifetime, an' naturally that 'd
leave you to finish your quilt some years after you was dead. I don't
see how you're goin' to get a quilt out o' them pieces anyhow. This
town ain't give to choppin' up their silk in a way that's likely to
leave you many scraps, 'n' I know 's far 's I'm concerned 't if I had
any good silk I sh'd certainly save it to mend with, 'n' I'm a rich
woman too."

"I ain't tryin' for a quilt," said Mrs. Lathrop mildly, "I'm only--"

"_Mrs. Lathrop_"--Susan's tone was emphatically outraged--"Mrs.
Lathrop, do you mean to say that after all this givin' you ain't goin'
to do your share? 'N' me lettin' you have the inside of the top of
father's hat, 'n' Mrs. Fisher savin' you all her corners jus' on your
simple askin'. You _said_ a quilt, 'n' we give for a quilt, 'n' if
you've changed your mind I must say I want the inside o' the hat again
to polish my parlor lookin'-glass with."

"I ain't got enough for the quilt," said Mrs. Lathrop; "it's a
sofa-pillow I'm--"

"Oh," said Susan, much relieved, "well--I'm glad to hear it. I
couldn't hardly believe it of you, Mrs. Lathrop, 'n' yet if you can't