what come next?  I waited the wait o’ the innocent ‘n’ trustin’ for one long ‘n’ unremittin’ week, ‘n’ then, when I was nigh to mad with sittin’ on red-hot needles by day ‘n’ by night without let or hindrance, what did he answer?—­what did he answer to him ‘s laid in the hollow o’ his hand, confidin’ fully ‘n’ freely in his seein’ what a good investment it ’d be?  What did he answer, Susan Clegg?  He answered ’s he c’d n’t do it, ‘n’ ’s it was n’t no possible use whatever to ask him again!  Susan Clegg, I smashed a winder,’ he says, ’right then ‘n’ there,’ he says, ‘’n’ I writ a letter ‘n’ it must ‘a’ been that letter ’s you found, f’r I never writ him no other afore or after.  ‘N’ then I went West to make my fortune ‘n’ I did n’t make no fortune, but I got my hands on a hunderd dollars ‘n’ I come home lickety-split to buy that business ‘n’ marry that girl.  I went first to see about the business ’s it was right ‘n’ natural ’t I sh’d, ‘n’ what did I find, Susan Clegg, what did I find?’ Mrs. Lathrop, I never see the like in all my days, born or unborn.  I thought he’d yell my head off.  ’I found your father’d bought the business, my business, ‘n’ I was left out in the freezin’, icy cold!  Susan Clegg, I smashed a table,’ he says, ‘’n’ two chairs,’ he says, ‘’n’ I went to see the girl ‘n’ ask her to wait a little longer,—­’n’, Fire ‘n’ Brimstone ‘n’ Saltpetre, ’f your father hadn’t gone ‘n’ married the girl,—­my girl!

“‘’N’ there was all below to pay,’ he says, ‘’n’ I vowed bloody murder,’ he says, ‘’n’ they had me up ‘n’ bound me over to keep the peace, ‘n’ then they moved away.  ‘N’ I sat down to wait f’r my vengeance,’ he says, ‘’n’ I’ve waited fifty years,’ he says.  ’I’ve spent fifty years grindin’ my teeth ‘n’ whettin’ the edge o’ my fury, ‘n’ now—­’

“Mrs. Lathrop, I didn’t wait to hear no more.  I didn’t feel like I had strength to.  I run.  ‘N’, heavens, how I run!  I lit out like I was paid for it, ‘n’ I bet I clum every last one o’ them hills ’s fast on the up ‘s the down.  When I got to the station there was a train jus’ pullin’ out f’r I didn’t know where, ‘n’ I hopped aboard like I was shot.  It took me to Meadville, ‘n’ I had to pay the ’xtra fare ‘n’ wait two hours to get another back here, ‘n’ I ain’t really half through shakin’ yet.”

Susan stopped, took out her handkerchief and carefully passed it over her brow as one who strives to brush away tormenting visions.

Mrs. Lathrop sat mute and motionless, completely overwhelmed by the recital of her friend’s tragic story.

After a few minutes Miss Clegg put her handkerchief back in her pocket and turned a sad and solemn, yet tender look upon her companion.

“Lord knows I’m done with relations from this day on,” she said slowly but with great distinctness.  “I feel like hereafter I’ll be content with jus’ you, Mrs. Lathrop, ‘n’ I can’t say nothin’ stronger f’r what I’ve jus’ lived through.”

Mrs. Lathrop’s eyes filled with gratitude at this compliment.