"He's sent for the windin'," said Mrs. Lathrop weakly; "it's jus' got some plaster 'n' a long piece o' tore sheet." Susan moved towards the door. "It beats me what ever made you go near the hind end o' that cow for," she remarked, pausing on the threshold. "Don't you know as it 's the hind end 's always does the kickin'? The front end can't do nothin'--'nless it gores. Does she gore?" "Oh, I d'n' know," wailed poor Mrs. Lathrop. "I 'm goin'," said Miss Clegg, turning her back as she spoke. "You jus' lay still now 'n' think o' pleasant things. Nothin' else can't happen to you 'nless the house catches fire." Then she went out and away. * * * * * It was late in the afternoon that Susan entered next door on her second visitation of mercy. "Did you like your dinner?" she inquired, as she brought a rocker to where it would command a fine view of the bed and its occupant. "Dinner! I ain't had no--" Miss Clegg screamed. "Ain't had no dinner! Why, I give it to Jathrop with my own hands. Everythin' hot, 'n' the whole tucked up nice in the cloth 't I put over the bird-cage nights. I made the tea awful strong so 's to keep up your strength, 'n' there was a scramble o' eggs, 'n' one was fresh, I _know_. Whatever c'n he have done with it, do you suppose?" "Maybe he ate--" Mrs. Lathrop began. Her friend chopped her off with a second scream. "Ate it!--Jathrop Lathrop!--Do you mean to tell me 't I've been stewin' myself to feed Jathrop Lathrop! 'N' that good egg too. 'N' all my tea. I declare, but I am aggravated. The fire 's out now 'n' everythin' 's put away or I'd go 'n' cook you suthin' else, but I'd never trust that young man to carry it over." "I ain't hun--" said Mrs. Lathrop.