"Well, Mrs. Lathrop, I don't think much o' _that_ young man," she announced in a tone of unmitigated disapproval; "'peared to me like he was in a hurry to get done with father 's quick 's he could just so 's to be back beside Amelia Fitch. I 'd venture a guess that 'f you was to ask him this minute he 's forgot every word I said to him already. I asked him to set some sort of a figger on father, 'n' he would n't so much 's set down himself. Stood on one leg 'n' backed towards the door every other word, 'n' me, father's only child, standin' there at his mercy. Said 't last 's he _might_ die to-morrow 'n' _might_ live twenty years. I tell you my patience pretty near went at that. I don't call such a answer no answer a _tall_. I 've often thought both them things myself, 'n' me no doctor. Particularly about the twenty years. Father's lived seventy-five years--I must say 't to my order o' thinkin' he's pretty well set a-goin', 'n' that the life he leads ain't drainin' his vitality near 's much 's it's drainin' mine." Miss Clegg stopped and shook her head impatiently. "I d'n' know when I 've felt as put out 's this. 'N' me with so much faith in doctors too. It's a pretty sad thing, Mrs. Lathrop, when all the comfort you c'n get out of a man is the thinkin' 't perhaps God in his mercy has made him a fool. I had a good mind to tell that very thing to Mrs. Brown's son, but I thought maybe he'd learn better later. Anyway I 'm goin' right ahead with my marriage. It'll have to be the minister now, 'n' I can't see what I 've ever done 't I sh'd have two men around the house 't once like they 'll be, but that's all in the hands o' Fate, 'n' so I jus' took the first step 'n' told Billy when he brought the milk to tell his father 't if he 'd come up here to-night I 'd give him a quarter for the Mission fund. I know the quarter 'll bring him, 'n' I can't help kind o' hopin' 't to-morrow 'll find the whole thing settled 'n' off my mind." The next morning Mrs. Lathrop laid in an unusually large supply of fodder and was very early at the fence. Her son--a placid little innocent of nine-and-twenty years--was still in bed and asleep. Susan was up and washing her breakfast dishes, but the instant that she spied her friend she abruptly abandoned her task and hastened to the rendezvous. "Are you goin' t'--" Mrs. Lathrop called eagerly. "No, I ain't," was the incisive reply. Then they both adjusted their elbows comfortably on the top rail of the fence, and Miss Clegg began, her voice a trifle higher pitched than usual. "Mrs. Lathrop, it's a awful thing for a Christian woman to feel forced to say, 'n' Lord knows I would n't say it to no one but you, but it's true 'n' beyond a question so, 'n' therefore I may 's well be frank 'n' open 'n' remark 't our minister ain't no good a _tall_.--'N I d'n' know but I'll tell any one 's asks me the same thing, f'r it certainly ain't nothin' f'r me to weep over, 'n' the blood be on his head from now on."