a little ways ‘n’ looked at him.  He kept chokin’ ‘n’ gaspin’ ‘n’ purple ‘n’ swallowin’, ‘n’ after a while I got up courage to ask him where Cousin Marion was.  ‘N’ then—­oh, Mrs. Lathrop!—­’n’ then—­well, honest, I thought’s he was goin’ to bust!—­’n’ then, ‘I’m Cousin Marion!’ he yelled right in my face,—­’I’m Cousin Marion, Susan Clegg!’ ‘n’ at that, Mrs. Lathrop, I went so faint in my knees ‘n’ so rumbly in my ears ’t you c’d ‘a’ clubbed me with a straw ‘n’ gagged me with a wisp o’ hay that minute.  I jus’ stood starin’, ‘n’ you c’n believe me or not just’s you please, but I never was so nigh to fallen over backwards in all my life before.  I c’d feel cold drops like water on a duck’s back, ‘n’ my senses was that mixed ’t ’f you’d told me ’s my heels was in my hair I wouldn’t ‘a’ doubted you.  I d’n’ know ’s I ever was scared in all my life afore, but when he screamed them awful words, my very insides got clammy.  I c’d n’t say a livin’ word, I c’d n’t make a livin’ move; I c’d only stand ‘n’ shake ‘n’ listen, ‘n’ him keepin’ on yellin’ ‘n’ poundin’ like mad.

“‘Susan Clegg,’ he screamed, ‘Susan Clegg,’—­’n’ he kep’ poundin’ harder ‘n’ harder ‘n’ gettin’ redder ‘n’ redder every minute,—­’Susan Clegg, I’m glad you’ve come; I’ve wanted you to come; I’ve wanted you to come f’r a long time.  I did n’t know who it’d be, but I ’ve been wantin’ somebody to come ‘n’ been waitin’ f’r ’em to come f’r fifty years ‘n’ more too.  I’ve been holdin in f’r fifty years!  I’ve been thinkin’ what I wanted to say f’r fifty years!  Now I c’n say it!  Now I c’n be happy sayin’ it!  I wish it was your father’s ears a-shiverin’ there afore me, but yours ‘ll do.’

“My heavens alive, Mrs. Lathrop, you’d ought to ‘a’ seen him!  He went from red to purple ‘n’ from purple to mos’ black, ‘n’ his eyes stood right out, ‘n’ he shook his cane right in my face ‘n’ screamed loud enough to set the dead jumpin’.

“’Susan Clegg, your father was a shark!  Susan Clegg, your father was a skinflint!  Susan Clegg, your father was a miser!  Susan Clegg, your father was a thief!’ ‘n’ all this with me where I c’dn’t but hear, Mrs. Lathrop, ‘n’ he must ‘a’ known it too.  ’Susan Clegg, I was a young man in difficulties,’ he says, ‘’n’ I wanted a hunderd dollars bad,’ he says, ‘’n’ ’f I’d had it I c’d ‘a’ bought into a nice business ‘n’ married a nice girl with a nice property ‘n’ made this place blossom like a wilderness ‘n’ seen the fig-trees o’ my fig-trees sittin’ in my shade.  ‘N’ I went to your father, ‘n’ I told him all the inmost recesses o’ my heart o’ hearts,’ he says, ‘’n’ ’xplained to him how ‘n’ why ‘n’ wherefore the business c’dn’t but pay, ‘n’ then took him to see the girl ‘n’ p’inted out all her good p’ints, ‘n’ then asked him to lend me the hunderd dollars, ‘n’ hired a livery horse ‘n’ drove him home to think about it.  ‘N’ what followed after, Susan Clegg,’—­oh, Mrs. Lathrop, I never see the like o’ the way he suddenly swelled ‘n’ blued right then!—­’’n’