"What did Henry Ward Beecher do? Well, he jus' up 'n' did the same 's the night afore. Ate the Sons o' Veterans' pudding 's Mrs. Brown had all ready for the Lodge meetin', 'n' all the baked beans 's was for to-day's luncheon too. She says she never dreamed as no human bein' could hold what that boy can. She says young Dr. Brown says 't he wants to come 'n' observe him to-night 'f he don't have to go over to Meadville to get two of his saws sharpened. Mrs. Brown says he says he's goin' to write a paper for the Investigatin' Society, but I don't see how that's goin' to help the Sons o' Veterans none. Doctors' observations 'n' investigations 's all right 's far 's they go, but I don' fancy as they can be made to take the place o' no eat up puddin' inside o' no son of a veteran. 'N' anyhow, Henry Ward Beecher or no Henry Ward Beecher, Mrs. Craig 's jus' about frantic over her cat. She says there's cat's hair everywhere 'n' the cat ain't nowhere. She was doin' out her churnin' 'n' she found some hairs in the butter. I asked her 'f maybe Augustus hadn't fed the cat to the cow, 'n' she says they thought o' that, but her husband says 't ain't possible, for there ain't room for a cat to turn over in the place where a cow turns everything over afore she swallows it. Mrs. Craig says, besides, 't she asked Augustus, but he jus' said, 'Wash zhat?--Zhat a cow?--Zhi a cow?--Zhu a cow?' 'n' she see plain 'n' forever where he got the name o' bein' so bad, for she was dyin' to switch him 'n' couldn't in honor say as she had any real reason to. But all the same she says she's as sure as Fate 't him 'n' no one else 's at the bottom o' her cat--only how in all creation are you to get it out o' him? She says there was hairs in the washtub 'n' hairs in the bluein', 'n' when she gathered the sweet peas afore supper she see a hair on a sweet-pea pod. While we was talkin' suthin' tickled her 'n' she found a hair in her collar. "Gran'ma Mullins came along up from the crick while we was talkin', 'n' she had her tale o' woe same 's the rest. Seems little Jane 's quit her thumb, owin' to the quinine, 'n' took to bitin' holes 'n' chewin' 'n' suckin' everythin' that she can lay hands on. She's chewed her pillow-slip 'n' bit her sheet 'n' sucked right down to the brass on a number o' Gran'ma Mullins' solid silver things. They've tried scoldin' 'n' slappin', but she jus' keeps her mouth on the rampage, 'n' they can't get her to go back to her thumb f'r love nor money. Mrs. Brown said she'd be glad to trade Henry Ward Beecher for little Jane, 'n' I strongly advised her to do it, f'r to my mind a chewin' child 's more to be counted on than a eatin' sleep-walker, but we was evidently all o' the same way o' thinkin, f'r Gran'ma Mullins shook her head 'n' wouldn't change.