brace ag’in the hen-house, ‘n’ when it let up she sat down so sudden ’t she smashed the henhouse ‘n’ a whole settin’ o’ duck-eggs not to speak of the hen between.  Mrs. Macy says ‘t seein’ ’s she has more eggs ‘n carpets, she jus’ beats her carpets with the egg end ‘n’ don’t fuss to change ever.  Mrs. Fisher says what puts her out is ’t the ring ’s you slide up to close the whisks for killin’ flies won’t stay up, ’n the flies don’t get killed but jus’ get hit so they buzz without stoppin’ from then on.  Mrs. Jilkins says right out ’s she considers the whole thing a swindle, ‘n’ ‘f Mr. Kimball was n’t rentin’ his store o’ her brother she sh’d tell him so to his face.  She says the three-inch measure on the handle ‘s too short to be o’ any real service on a farm, ‘n’ her opinion is ’t Mr. Kimball keeps his sample dipped in kerosene or he never could snap it in ‘n’ out so quick.  Anyhow it all comes in the end to the fact ‘t, havin’ bought it, I ’ll work it ’f I die f’r it, ‘n’ so Cousin Marion c’n have the cane, ‘n’ may she be everlastin’ly happy usin’ it.  I did n’t get my trunk down ’cause I ’ll have Friday to pack anyhow, ‘n’ any one c’n slide a trunk down a ladder any time, but nobody can’t never slide nothin’ up nowhere.  Besides, I sh’d look like a fool puttin’ back a trunk ’t I ’d hauled out to visit a cousin who like enough died afore I was born, ‘n’ I ain’t no fool,—­never was ‘n’ never will be.”

There was a short stop for a fresh supply of breath.

“I wonder ’f—­” began Mrs. Lathrop.

“The difficulty o’ all things in this world,” Miss Clegg went on promptly, “is ’t if you have any brains a tall you ’re bound to have so much work for ’em.  Now, this findin’ o’ Cousin Marion no doubt looks simple enough to you ‘n’ the world in general, ‘n’ yet the more I turn her up ‘n’ down ‘n’ inside out the more new lights I get.  When you come to consider ‘t I only found the letter this mornin’, ‘n’ that it ain’t supper-time yet, you c’n easy see ’s my day’s been more ’n full o’ brain-work.  Comin’ up the street this afternoon, the question o’ the possibility o’ Cousin Marion’s bein’ poor come into my mind.  I c’n speak out freely to you, Mrs. Lathrop, ‘n’ so I will remark ’t I c’n guarantee ‘s father never give her nothin’ o’ late years, ‘n’ ’f she’s poor it don’t take no eagle eye to know jus’ what’ll happen when she gets my letter.  ’F the letter hadn’t been posted ‘n’ the sack gone to the train afore I thought o’ this view o’ the matter, I’m free to confess ’s I never would ‘a’ posted it a tall.  For there’s no use denyin’, Mrs. Lathrop, ’t, ’f my visit to Cousin Marion sh’d lead to her askin’ to borrow ’s much ’s a quarter, I sh’ll bitterly regret ever havin’ clawed her out from back o’ that trunk-flap.  There ain’t no possible good ‘s c’n ever come o’ lendin’ money to them’s ain’t able to pay it back, ‘n’ I learned that lesson to my bitter cost once ‘n’ for all time when I had that little business with Sam Duruy.