“They won't BE done till you go, Ase,” continued the master of the house. “She'll stay with us till the last gun fires. T'other day Angie Phinney called and I turned Debby loose on her. I didn't believe anything could wear out Angie's talkin' machinery, but she did it. Angeline stayed twenty minutes and then quit, hoarse as a crow.” Here the widow joined in the conversation, evidently under the impression that nothing had been said since she last spoke. Continuing her favorable comments on the weather she observed that she was glad there was so little fog, because fog was hard for folks with “neuralgy pains.” Her brother's wife's cousin had “neuralgy” for years, and she described his sufferings with enthusiasm and infinite detail. Mr. Tidditt answered her questions verbally at first; later by nods and shakes of the head. Captain Cy fidgeted in his chair. “Come on outdoor, Ase,” he said at last. “No use to wait till she runs down, 'cause she's a self-winder, guaranteed to keep goin' for a year. Good-night!” he shouted, addressing Mrs. Beasley, and heading for the door. “Where you goin'?” asked the old lady. “No. Yes. Who said so? Hooray! Three cheers for Gen'ral Scott! Come on, Ase!” And the captain, seizing his friend by the arm, dragged him into the open air, and slammed the door. “Are you crazy?” demanded the astonished town clerk. “What makes you talk like that?” “Might as well. She wouldn't understand it any better if 'twas Scripture, and it saves brain work. The only satisfaction I get is bein' able to give my opinion of her and the grub without hurtin' her feelin's. If I called her a wooden-headed jumpin' jack she'd only smile and say No, she didn't think 'twas goin' to rain, or somethin' just as brilliant.” “Well, why don't you give her her walkin' papers?” “I shall, when her month's up.” “I wouldn't wait no month. I'd heave her overboard to-night. You hear ME!” Captain Cy shook his head. “I can't, very well,” he replied. “I hate to make her feel TOO bad. When the month's over I'll have some excuse ready, maybe. The joke of it is that she don't really need to work out. She's got some money of her own, owns cranberry swamps and I don't know what all. Says she took up Bailey's offer 'cause she cal'lated I'd be company for her. I had to laugh, even in the face of those beans, when she said that.” “Humph! if I don't tell Bailey what I think of him, then--” “No, no! Don't you say a word to Bailey. It's principally on his account that I'm tryin' to stick it out for the month. Bailey did his best; he thought he was helpin'. And he feels dreadfully because she's so deef. Only yesterday he asked me if I believed there was anything made that would fix her up and make it more comfortable for me. I could have prescribed a shotgun, but I didn't. You see, he thinks her deefness is the only trouble; I haven't told him the rest, and don't you do it, either. Bailey's a good-hearted chap.”