"Young Dr. Brown wanted to," said Susan, "he wanted to fill my ears with
mud, an' my eye, too, but I didn't feel to have it done. You can't die
o' wasps' bills, an' you can o' young Dr. Brown's--leastways when you
ain't got no money to pay 'em, like I ain't got just at present."

"It's--" said Mrs. Lathrop.

"Yes," said Susan, "it struck me that way, too. This seems to be a very
unlucky town. Anything as comes seems to catch us all in a bunch. The
cow most lamed the whole community an' the automobile most broke its
back; time'll tell what'll be the result o' these wasps, but there won't
be no church Sunday for one thing, I know.

"An' it ain't the least o' my woes, Mrs. Lathrop, to think as I've got
to sit an' smile on Mr. Weskin to-night from between two such ears as
I've got, for a man is a man, an' it can't be denied as a woman as is
mainly ears ain't beguilin'. Besides, I may in confidence state to you,
Mrs. Lathrop, as the one as buzzed aroun' my head wan't really no wasp
a-_tall_ in comparison to the one as got under my skirts."

Mrs. Lathrop's eyes were full of sincere condolence; she did not even
imagine a smile as she gazed upon her afflicted friend.

"I must go," said the latter, rising with a groan, "seems like I never
will reach the bottom o' my troubles this year. I keep thinkin' there's
nothin' left an' then I get a wasp at each end at once. Well, I'll come
over when Mr. Weskin goes--if I have strength."

Then she limped home.