Susan paused and looked at the letter which she held in her hand. Mrs.
Lathrop slid one of the kitchen chairs up behind her, and she sat
down, still looking at the letter.

"It's from the monument man," she said again, "'n' I don't know what
ever I shall do about it, I'm sure."

Mrs. Lathrop was all attention.

"It's about the lion. He says 't he's been 'n' took some black chalk
'n' marked around under him 'Sacred to the memory of Blank Clegg,' 'n'
he says 't it looks so noble 't he's had an offer for the monument 'n'
he wants me to come in 'n' see it afore he sells it to--to some one
else."

There was a short silence, broken at last by Mrs. Lathrop.

"Your father's name wa'n't 'Blank,'" she said; "it was 'Henry.'"

Susan knit her brows.

"I know, 'n' that's one thing 't 's been troublin' me. It's written
out in good plain letters--'Blank Clegg'--'n' I've been tryin' 'n'
tryin' to think what I could 'a' said to 'a' made him suppose 't it
could 'a' been 'Blank.' That 'd be the last name in the wide world for
anybody to name anybody else, I sh'd suppose, 'n' I can't see for the
life o' me why that monument man sh'd 'a' hit on it for father. I'm
cert'nly mighty glad that he's only marked it on in black chalk 'n'
not chopped it out o' the bottom o' the lion. O' course 'f he 'd
chopped it out I'd 'a' had to 'a' taken it an' it'd jus' made me the