"That very next second him 'n' Ed 'n' Brunhilde Susan all hopped 'n' yelled at once, 'n' the next thing we see was the minister droppin' his book 'n' grabbin' his arm 'n' the deacon tryin' madly to do hisself up in Polly's veil. We would 'a' all been plum petrified at such goings on any other day, only by that time the last one of us was feelin' to hop and grab 'n' yell on his own account. Gran'ma Mullins was tryin' to slap herself with the seat cushion, 'n' the way the daisies flew as folks went over 'n' under that clematis rope was a caution. I got out as quick as I--" "But what--" interrupted Mrs. Lathrop, her eyes fairly marble-like in their redundant curiosity. "It was wasps!" said Susan. "It was a young wasps' nest in Mr. Jilkins's hat. Seems they carried their hats to church in their hands 'cause Polly did n't want no red rings around 'em, 'n' so he never suspected nothin' till he dropped it. 'N' oh, poor little Brunhilde Susan in them short skirts of hers--she might as well have wore a bee-hive! I will in confidence remark as I got off easy, 'n' you can look at me 'n' figger on what them as got it hard has got on them. Young Dr. Brown went right to work with mud 'n' Polly's veil 'n' plastered 'em over as fast as they could get into Mrs. Sweet's. Mrs. Sweet was mighty obligin' 'n' turned two flower-beds inside out 'n' let every one scoop with her kitchen spoons, besides runnin' aroun' herself like she was a slave gettin' paid. They took the deacon 'n' Polly right to their own house. They can't see one another anyhow, 'n' they was most all married anyway, so it did n't seem worth while to wait till the minister gets the use of his upper lip again." "Why--" interrogated Mrs. Lathrop. "Young Dr. Brown wanted to," said Susan, "he wanted to fill my ears with mud, 'n' my eye, too, but I did n't feel to have it done. You can't die o' wasps' bills, 'n' you can o' young Dr. Brown's--leastways when you ain't got no money to pay 'em, like I ain't got just at present." "It 's--" said Mrs. Lathrop. "Yes," said Susan, "it struck me that way, too. This seems to be a very unlucky town. Anything as comes seems to catch us all in a bunch. The cow most lamed the whole community 'n' the automobile most broke its back; time 'll tell what 'll be the result o' these wasps, but there won't be no church Sunday for one thing, I know. "'N' it ain't the least o' my woes, Mrs. Lathrop, to think as I 've got to sit 'n' smile on Mr. Weskin to-night from between two such ears as is on me, for a man is a man, 'n' it can't be denied as a woman as is mainly ears ain't beguilin'. Besides, I may in confidence state to you, Mrs. Lathrop, as the one as buzzed aroun' my head wa'n't really no wasp a _tall_ in comparison to the one as got under my skirts." Mrs. Lathrop's eyes were full of sincere condolence; she did not even imagine a smile as she gazed upon her afflicted friend.