"I must go," said the latter, rising with a groan, "seems like I never will reach the bottom o' my troubles this year. I keep thinkin' there's nothin' left 'n' then I get a wasp at each end at once. Well, I 'll come over when Mr. Weskin goes--if I have strength." Then she limped home. * * * * * It was about nine that night that she returned and pounded vigorously on her friend's window-pane. Mrs. Lathrop woke from her rocker-nap, went to the window and opened it. Susan stood below and the moon illuminated her smile and her ears with its most silvery beams. "He 's just gone!" she announced. "Yes," said Mrs. Lathrop, rubbing her eyes. "He's gone; I come over to tell you." "What--" said Mrs. Lathrop. "I would n't care if my ears was as big as a elephant's now." "Why--" asked Mrs. Lathrop. "Mrs. Lathrop, you know as I took them bonds straight after father died 'n' locked 'em up 'n' I ain't never unlocked 'em since?" Mrs. Lathrop assented with a single rapt nod. "Well, when I explained to Mr. Weskin as I 'd got to have money 'n' how was the best way to sell a bond, he just looked at me, 'n' what do you think he said--what _do_ you think he said, Mrs. Lathrop?" Mrs. Lathrop hung far out over the window-sill--her gaze was the gaze of the ever earnest and interested. Susan stood below. Her face was aglow with the joy of the affluent--her very voice might have been for once entitled as silvery. "He said, Mrs. Lathrop, he said, 'Miss Clegg, why don't you go down to the bank and cut your coupons?'" * * * * * A VERY SUPERIOR MAN Miss Clegg sat in Mrs. Lathrop's rocking-chair, on Mrs. Lathrop's kitchen stoop. Mrs. Lathrop sat at her friend's feet, picking over currants. If she picked over a great many she intended making jelly; if only a few, the result was to be a pie. Susan had on her bonnet and mitts and held her sun-umbrella firmly gripped between her two hands and her two knees. She looked weary and worn.