"Gone. Mr. Weskin give him to understand as he'd better go somewhere
'n' he got on a train 'n' did it. If he hadn't, he might 'a' been
lynched."

"Lynched!" screamed the mother, sitting suddenly up. A direful
cracking resounded under the bed-clothes as she did so, but in the
excitement of the moment its possible evil portent went unnoticed.

"Lynched," repeated Susan; "that's what I said, 'n' bein' 's I was
brought up to speak the truth 'n' fear no man, you c'n depend upon its
bein' so. But you must eat your breakfast, Mrs. Lathrop,--you mustn't
go without eatin' or you'll lose your strength 'n' then blood poison
'll set in. 'N' that reminds me 't Mr. Weskin asked me yesterday if
you'd made your will. Have you?"

"No; but I want to know about--"

"He says you'd ought to right off. He says there 's no tellin' where
anythin' 'll end 'n' it 's wise to be prepared for the worst. He said
he knowed a man as walked on a tack 'n' jus' called it a tack, 'n'
first they had to cut off the tack 'n' then the toe 'n' then the foot,
'n' they kept on slicin' him higher 'n' higher till he died without no
will a _tall_. I said you wasn't no tack but a cow, but he said it was
all one, 'n' I guess it is 's far 's the lawyers go. I expeck it'd be
only a poor lawyer 's couldn't argue a tack into a cow--'n' out of her
again, too, f'r that matter--'n' Mr. Weskin ain't no poor--"

"But about Ja--"

"--Lawyer. He's 's fine 's they make. O' course a good deal o' the