Susan Clegg and Her Love Affairs

by Anne Warner

  XI

  SUSAN CLEGG AND THE PLAYWRIGHT

  "Well," said Miss Clegg to her dear friend in the early fall of thatsame year, while they still waited under alien roofs the completion oftheir own made-over houses, "the men who write the Sunday papers and saythat when you look at the world with a impartial eye in this century youcan't but have hopes of women some day developing into something, surelywould know they spoke the truth if they could see Elijah Doxey now."

  "But Eli--" expostulated Mrs. Lathrop.

  "No, of course not. But 'Liza Em'ly is, and it's her I'm talking about.She was up to see me this afternoon, and she says she'll spare no moneynowhere. The trained nurse is to stay with him right along forever ifhe likes, and the two can have her automobile and ride or walk or doanything, without thinking once what it costs. There was a doctor upfrom the city again yesterday, and that makes four visits at a hundred avisit. But 'Liza Em'ly says even if Elijah hadn't anything of his own,she'd pay all the bills sooner'n think anything that could be done wasbeing left out. It's a pretty sad case, Mrs. Lathrop, and this lastdoctor says he never see a sadder. He said nothing more could be doneright now, for there really is nothing in this community to remindElijah that he ever wrote a play, if they only could get those clippingsfrom the newspapers away from him. But that's just what they can't do.He keeps looking them over, and then such a look of agony comes into hiseyes,--and Elijah was never one to bear pain as you must know,remembering him with the colic,--and he clasps his hands and shakes hishead, and--well, Mrs. Lathrop, Elijah just wasn't strong enough to writea play, and some one as was stronger ought to of restrained him rightin the first of it."

  "He--" said Mrs. Lathrop pityingly.

  "Yes, that's it," confirmed Susan, "and oh, it's awful to take a brightyoung promising life like his and wreck it completely like that! To seeElijah walking about with a trained nurse and those clippings at his ageis surely one of the most touching sights as this town'll ever see.'Liza Em'ly says she offered a thousand dollars to any newspaper aswould print one good notice, 'cause the doctors say just one good noticemight turn the whole tide of his brain. But the newspapers say if theyprinted one good notice of such a play, the Pure Food Commission wouldhave 'em up for libel within a week, and they just don't dare risk it.This last doctor says he can't blame Elijah for going mad, 'cause heknows a little about the stage through being in love with a actressonce, and he says he wasn't treated fair. He says play-writing is notlike any other kind of writing, and Elijah wasn't prepared for thegreat difference. Seems all words on the stage mean something they don'tmean in the dictionary, and that makes it very hard for a mere ordinaryperson to know what they're saying if they say anything a _tall_. Andthen, too, Elijah never grasped that the main thing is to keep thegallery laughing, even if the two-dollar people have tears running downtheir cheeks. And you can't write for the stage nowadays without youkeep folks laughing the whole time. Elijah never thought about thelaughing, because his play was a tragedy like _Hamlet_, only with Hamletleft out. For the lady is dead in the play, and her ghost is all that'sleft of her. But 'Liza Em'ly told me to-day as his trouble came right inthe start, for the people who look plays over no sooner looked Elijah'sover before they took hold of it and fixed it. And they kept on fixingit till it was _Hamlet_ with nobody but Hamlet left in. And then, so asto manage the laughs, they dressed everybody like chickens if theyturned back-to. So that while the audience was weeping, if any one onthe stage turned 'round, they went off into shrieks of laughter. 'LizaEm'ly says they never told Elijah about the chicken feathers, and theopening night was the first he knew about that little game, for he waslaid up for ever so long before then. He got all used up in the firstpart of the rehearsals; for it seems you can only have a theater torehearse in at times when even the people who sweep it don't feel to besweeping. And so they always rehearse from one to six in the morning.And Elijah naturally wasn't used to that. But they'd had trouble evenbefore then; for right from the start there was a pretty how-d'ye-doover the plot. Seems Elijah wanted his own plot and his own people inhis own play, and they had a awful time getting it through his head asit's honor enough to have your own play, and it's only unreasonable tostick out for your own plot and your own people too. 'Liza Em'ly saysthey had a awful time with him over it all, and there was a time when hefelt so bad over giving up his plot and his people that any one oughtto have seen right there as he'd never be strong enough to stand all therest of what was surely coming. 'Liza Em'ly didn't tell me the whole ofthe rest what come, but Mr. Kimball told me that what was one greatstrain on Elijah, right through to the hour he begun to scream, was thatthe leading lady fell in love with him and used to have him up at allhours to fix up her part, and then kiss him. And Elijah didn't want tofix up her part, and he hated to be kissed. But they told him the partmust be fixed up to suit her, and that the kisses didn't matter, becausethey was only little things after all.

  "He was wading along through the mire as best he could, when all of asudden it come out as she had one husband as she'd completely overlookedand never divorced. He turned up most unexpectedly and come at Elijahabout the kisses. Then they told Elijah he couldn't do a better thing byhis play than to let the man shoot him two or three times in places aswould let him be carried pale and white to a box for the opening night;and then, between the last two acts, marry the lady and let it be in allthe morning papers. You can maybe think, Mrs. Lathrop, how such a ideawould come to the man as is to be shot. But, oh, my, they didn't makenothing of Elijah's feelings in the matter. Nothing a _tall_. They justset right to work and called a meeting of the play manager and the stagemanager and the leading lady's manager and Elijah's manager, and the manwho really does the managing. They all got together, and they drew up adiagram as to where Elijah was to be hit, and a contract for him and theleading lady to sign as they wouldn't marry anybody else in themeantime. And if it hadn't been for 'Liza Em'ly, the deal, as theycalled it, would have gone straight through. For Elijah was so dead beatby this time that about all he was fit for was to sit on a electricbattery with a ice bag on his head, and look up words in a stagedictionary and then cross 'em out of his play."

  "Oh, I--" cried Mrs. Lathrop.

  "That's just what 'Liza Em'ly said she said," rejoined Susan Clegg. "Itell you, Mrs. Lathrop, 'Liza Em'ly is no fool since her book's goneinto the thirty-seventh edition, and that's a fact. She told me to-dayas when she realized the man she loved--for 'Liza Em'ly really lovesElijah; any one can see that just by looking at the trained nurse she'sgot him--was being murdered alive, she went straight up and took a handin the matter herself. I guess she had a pretty hard time, for theleading lady wouldn't hear to changing any of what they call therouting, and said if Elijah wasn't shot and married according to thesigned agreement, she wouldn't play. And when a leading lady won't play,then is when you find out what Shakespeare really did write for,according to 'Liza Em'ly. For a little they was all running this way andthat way, just beside themselves, with the leading lady in theAdirondacks and two detectives watching her husband. And the man as waspainting the scenery took a overdose of chloral and went off with allhis ideas in his head, and that unexpected trouble brought 'em alltogether again. The husband came down off his high horse and said he'dtake five per cent, of the net--Don't ask me what that means, for Mr.Dill don't know either--and the littlest chorus girl and go to Europe.And he said, too, as he'd sign a paper first releasing Elijah from allclaim on account of his wife. So they all signed, and he sailed. He wasclear out to sea before they discovered as he had another wife as he'dnever divorced, so the leading lady could of married Elijah, after all.Well, that was a pretty mess, with a husband as had no claim on nobodygone off to Europe with five percent of the net. The stage manager andElijah's manager took the _Mauretania_ and started right after him, forwhen it comes to five per cent. on any kind of stage thing, Mr. Kimballsays, any monkeying counts up so quick that even hiring a yacht isnothing if you want to catch that five per cent. in time. So they wasoff, one in the c
aptain's room and the other in the bridal suite, while'Liza Em'ly was down in Savannah getting local color to patch up thescenery, leaving Elijah totally unprotected on his battery with hisideas.

  "But Elijah wasn't to be left in peace even now. Seems they was having ainvestigation into the poor quality of the electricity in the city, anda newspaper opened a referendum and made 'em double the power. Thecompany was so mad, they didn't give no warning to a soul, but just slidup the needle from 100 to 200 right then and there; and one of theresults was they blew Elijah nearly through the ceiling. Nothing in theworld but the ice bag saved him from having his skull caved in, and thespecialist thinks he's got a concussion in his sinus right now. PoorElijah!"

  "But--?" Mrs. Lathrop queried.

  "They took him to the hospital, and from then on to the opening nighthe had nothing to do with his own play. The leading lady married thestage manager till she got the stage to suit her, and then she marriedthe man who really does the managing until she got everything else tosuit her. Next, without letting any of the others know, she marriedElijah's manager secretly, so that when poor Elijah in the hospitalthought he was looking at his manager, he was really nursing a viper inhis bosom. When 'Liza Em'ly came back with her local color, they toldher they didn't want it because they was going to have the camping-outscene in the parlor, and play the people all liked a joke. When she wentto a lawyer to protest, the lawyer looked through all Elijah's contractsand said Elijah had never stipulated as the camping-out scene should bein the woods. So 'Liza Em'ly paid him fifty dollars and come away a gooddeal wiser than she went.

  "Then come the opening night, and Mr. Kimball says he shall never forgetthat opening night as long as he lives. You know he bought himself oneof those hats as when you sit on 'em just gets a better shape, and thenhe went up to see his own nephew's own play. Seems he sat on his hat inElijah's own box, but he says Elijah was looking very bad even beforethe curtain went up. Seems Elijah didn't expect much, but he did havejust a little hope that here and there in spots he'd see some of his ownplay. But the hope was very faint. After the curtain went up, it keptgetting fainter. Of course Elijah meant it for a tragedy and called it_Millicent_; and seeing the title changed to _Milly Tilly_ was a hardblow to him right in the beginning. Seems the woman poisoned herselfbecause she was unhappy, and after she's dead, she remembers there wassome poison left in the bottle, and so she wants to warn the family. Itwas a very nice plot, Polly White thinks, and Elijah was wild over it'cause there's never been a plot used like it. But of course his ideawas as it should be took seriously. Do you wonder then, Mrs. Lathrop,that the first time in the play when one of the play actors turnedround he nearly died? Mr. Kimball says he nearly died himself. He sayshe never saw anything so funny as those chicken backs in all his life.He says people was just laying any way and every way in their seats,wailing to stop, so they could stop too. He says he was laughing fit tokill himself when all of a sudden he looked up to see Elijah, and hesays nothing ever give him such a chill as Elijah's then-and-thereexpression. Seems Elijah was just staring at the leading lady as wasflapping her wings and playing crow, while the gallery was pounding andyelling like mad. And then Elijah suddenly shot out of the box and roundbehind the scenes and vanished completely."

  Mrs. Lathrop gasped and lifted her hands, but no word issued frombetween her lips.

  "Well, of course we know now what happened, but nobody did then. Nobodywas expecting him on the stage, before the scenes or behind 'em, and Mr.Kimball didn't know where he was gone. So it was the end of the piecebefore he was really missed. Then they begun to hunt, and no Elijah highor low nowhere. You know how the papers was full of it, and there wouldhave been more about it, only Mr. Kimball and 'Liza Em'ly supposed itwas just advertising. Even 'Liza Em'ly thought it was the wrong kind ofadvertising and that the leading lady had seen Elijah's face and thoughtit was better to kidnap him until the play got settled down her way.Seems if you can keep a play going any kind of a way for a little while,you can't never change it afterwards, no matter what you've put in it.It's all most remarkable business, a play is. But anyway, wherever hewas, they all moved on to the next town anyhow. 'Liza Em'ly and Mr.Kimball went right with them to protect Elijah's interest, as it wasplain to be seen from where Elijah's manager was sleeping, where hisinterest was now. And as soon as they begun to unload the scenery, theafternoon of that day, whatever do you suppose? There was Elijah, justwhere he'd fell when he tripped over the first scene. They'd carted himoff in the triangle that unfolds into a grand piano, right along to thebaggage-car, where they'd piled the whole of his play on top of him,ending up even with the chicken feathers."

  "Great heav--!" cried Mrs. Lathrop.

  "So he said," interrupted Miss Clegg. "But there was no help for it.Seems while you're playing Act III. of a play, Act II. is getting packedup, and Act I. is already in the train. So Elijah was all packed andpretty flat before they even missed him, and most crazy before he wasfound. Well, and so to try and soothe him they took him to the theaterthat night again, and the leading lady, when she looked at him and sawhow awful weak he looked, sent him in a new idea she'd got, which was tolet her have a poster done of him packed up in the scenery. Then everynight he could sit in a box and at a certain sign give a yell and shootout. Then she'd make a speech about his having been in the scenery carall the night before, and being naturally kind of excited. She said itwould make the play draw like mad. Well, Elijah wouldn't consent to thata _tall_. And then again they worked with him and talked to him andcalled him a fool till he really begun to get awfully scared. They hadin all the managers together, and they wouldn't let him consult any one.Seems they just all sat looking at his forehead just over his nose whereyou hypnotize people, and he kept getting more and more scared. Seems hetold his nurse, during what they call a lucid interval, that you cantalk all you please about will power--and it may be true of people ingeneral--but no rule ever made on earth can possibly apply to any onewho has just written a play. There's something about writing a play astakes all the marrow out of your bones and the blood out of your body.And he says he wasn't no more responsible when he signed that contractto go mad in a box every evening and at least one matinee every weekthan a grasshopper. He says his one and only thought by that time wasto get away from 'em and make a break to where he'd never hear about hisplay again. But after he'd signed, they never let him out of sight. Theylocked him up in a dressing-room with the leading lady's pet mouse untilafter the performance, and then they took him and introduced him to twovery big managers as was engaged to do nothing except manage him nightsin the box.

  "Well, you know the rest, Mrs. Lathrop. He really did go mad, then, andwe've got him here now helpless, getting rich almost as fast as 'LizaEm'ly, and crazy as a loon. I declare, it's one of the saddest cases Iever see. I don't know whatever can be done. They say as fast as he getssane, the play'll surely drive him crazy again, so I don't see what'Liza Em'ly will do. She set with me the whole afternoon and talked verynicely about it all. To see her here, you'd never think she could actthe way Mrs. Macy and Mrs. Fisher tell about. I can see she's got alittle airy, and she says she misses her maid and her secretary morethan she ever tells the minister's family; but on the whole I like hervery much, and her devotion to Elijah is most beautiful. She says he'sthe one love of her life, and she shall marry him if ever he gets senseenough to know what he's doing. If he doesn't, she says she shall take ayacht and sail with him and write books until he dies. She says they canland once in a while to get their provisions and their royalties. Butshe says the only possible salvation for Elijah, as things are now, willbe to stay where he never sees a car to remind him of scenery, or ahouse to remind him of a stage, for years and years to come. I asked herwhat she _really_ thought of his play, and she said she thought theleading lady was just right and very clever, only Elijah was toosensitive a nature to understand little artistic touches like thechicken feathers. She says folks are too tired nowadays to be botheredto laugh. They want to be made to laugh withou
t even thinking. She saysElijah is a earnest nature as likes to work his laughs out verycarefully and conscientious; but the leading lady understands gettingthe same effect, only a million times quicker, with chicken feathers anddivorces. 'Liza Em'ly says the leading lady is very fair according toher own idea of fairness. She didn't have no money to put in the play,so she agreed to put in four divorces and one scandal as her part of thestock. Now the play's only been on a month, and she's paid up everythingexcept one divorce and the scandal; and she's done so well they'retrying to work up some scheme to let her pay both those off at the sametime. The play is going fine. They print columns about Elijah and hismadness, and the whole company is learning to crow together at the endof the second act. Every night they take out a little of what Elijahwrote, and the main manager says that there'll soon be nothing of Elijahleft in except the ghost, and the ghost of the bottle, and the agreementto pay Elijah his royalties. And according to the main manager's views,that's being pretty fair and square with Elijah."

  "Do you--?" queried Mrs. Lathrop.

  "Well, I don't know," answered Miss Clegg, "I really d'n know what tosay. I'm kind of dumb did over both 'Liza Em'ly and Elijah, for you knowas well as I do, Mrs. Lathrop, that nobody ever looked for those kind ofthings from them."

  "Shall--?" asked Mrs. Lathrop.

  "Yes, if it ever comes where I can," responded Miss Clegg, "I shall liketo see it very much."

  "Did--?" pressed Mrs. Lathrop.

  "Oh, yes, I asked her," Susan admitted, "I asked her fair and square. Isays: ''Liza Em'ly, there's no use denying as you've used real people inthis community in your book, and now I want to know who is DeaconTooker?' She said Deacon Tooker was just the book itself. She seemedmore amused than there was any particular sense in; but I thought ifanything could give her a good laugh, it wasn't me would begrudge her.There's this to be said for our young folks when they do get rich, Mrs.Lathrop, and that is that they're nice about it, and it makes every onefeel kindly towards 'em. Every one feels kindly towards Jathrop, andevery one feels kindly towards 'Liza Em'ly, and as for poor, dearElijah--Well!"

  The tone was expressive enough. Mrs. Lathrop shook her head sadly. Thenboth were silent.

  XII

  SUSAN CLEGG'S DISAPPEARANCE

  The "building-over" of Susan Clegg and her friend, Mrs. Lathrop, wascompleted during the second week in December, and in less thantwenty-four hours they were once more established in their owndwellings, surrounded by their own goods and chattels. For only thebriefest space, however, did Miss Clegg remain where she was put. Thenshe hurried through the passageway afforded by the connecting pergolaand burst excitedly into her neighbor's brand new kitchen in the verycenter of which sat Mrs. Lathrop in her old-gold-plush stationaryrocker, calmly surveying her domiciliary spick-and-spanness. On her laplay a just-opened letter; but for once the scrupulously observing MissClegg failed to observe. She was too full of fresh trials.

  "I d'n know whatever sins I committed in this world, Mrs. Lathrop," shebegan, dropping into the nearest chair and facing her friend in anupright, a little bent forward attitude that was clearly pugnacious,"that I should have these things visited upon me. The Lord knows, justthe same as you do, as I've always been a good and pure woman, loving myneighbors like myself and doing all my Christian duties as I was give tosee 'em. When I was tore up from my home by the roots and cast wiltedand faded upon Gran'ma Mullins, where the infant memories of Hiramcertainly wasn't calculated to do no reviving, I made the best of it. Imade the best of Lucy and a dog with a cold nose, too; and I bore upwith courage and no complaint under Mrs. Allen and her Persian religion.And I did it all to please you, Mrs. Lathrop, and your fool of a son,Jathrop, whose money, it's my opinion, has acted on him in a mostinjurious way. He never had much sense, as you yourself know, but now heain't got no sense a _tall_."

  "I don't--" Mrs. Lathrop started gently to protest.

  "Well, I do," rejoined Susan Clegg spiritedly; "and if you don't, youought to. Anyhow, I mean to tell you, if it's the last act of my life.Anybody as has any sense a _tall_ must have seen that building over wasjust a mite removed from building new; and what's new never did go withwhat's old, and it never will. If we was to be built over, we ought tohave been all built over or let alone. Jathrop's built the houses over,but he ain't built over the furnishings, and the built-over houses andthe not-built-over furniture and carpets and window shades and pots andkettles and pans and china and linen and everything else don't agree andjust naturally can't and never can. They're fighting now like sixty, andthey'll go on fighting the longer they're kept together. My house wasrestful and peaceful before, but now it's like a circus with all thewild animals let loose. And I can tell you this, Mrs. Lathrop; my thingsis getting the worst of it. Why, before they went to storage at Mr.Shores', they was in the best repair you ever see, and now it would makeyour heart ache to look at 'em. They've aged a century at least duringthe summer. They're wrinkled and halt and lame and blind, and the newpaper on the walls and the new polish on the floors and the new paint onthe woodwork is making 'em look sicker and sicker every minute. Ifthere's a society for the prevention of cruelty to furniture and otherhousehold goods, it ought to put Jathrop Lathrop in prison. I feel sosorry for those poor tables and chairs and bedsteads and all the rest of'em as I could cry my eyes out this very minute. There's one walnut,haircloth sofa as Father laid on before he was took to his bed as ispitiful to behold. It looks sicker than Father did even in his lasthours, and I wouldn't be surprised any minute to see it just turn overall of itself and give up the ghost. And everything has on such areproachful look it's more than human nature can bear to face it. If I'dever thought as being built over would of come to this, I'd of gone onmy knees and worked 'em to the bare bones before I'd of put up with it."

  Mrs. Lathrop continued to rock in silence.

  "Still, there's no cloud, however black, as hasn't got some silk in itslining, and the silk in this is the clock as Father gave Mother, whichwas supposed to be marble and wasn't. Much as I hated that clock, Icouldn't have borne to see its agonies when set on by the new fireplacebelow, and the pink and gold wall paper behind, and the roses and cupidsin the cornish above. It must just of shriveled in shame instead ofgoing out in glorious flight, as it did when I set it flying at the endof the bed-slat. Lord knows, though, Mrs. Lathrop, that's a small thingto be thankful for; and it's the only thing. I haven't begun yet to tellyou all. And I don't intend to. There's a limit to my temper, and if Ionce got started, there's no saying where I'd end. But there's one thingmore as I can't hold in, and it's the thing as was marked on the plans:'But. Pan.' I never did understand why I should be give a separate roomto keep butter pans in, seeing as I ain't got no cow, let alone nodairy. And even if I had, why I should keep my butter pans or my milkpans either in a little alley-way between the kitchen and thedining-room, just where the heat and smells could get at 'em from oneside and the flies from both, not to mention the added footsteps put onme journeying from the stove to the dinner table. You can see foryourself, Mrs. Lathrop, there's no sense in it, whatever. But I'd neversay a word about it, if that was all. But it ain't all. It's thelittlest part. For Jathrop's cruelty hasn't stopped with torturing thefurniture. It's clear he couldn't be satisfied till he fixed up a trapas sooner or later would hit me square in the face and break my nose. Atboth ends of his 'But. Pan.' he's had hung doors as swing, and springson 'em to make 'em swing hard and deadly. What either one of thoseswinging doors might do to my features, let alone to the pudding or stewI might be carrying, it isn't in mortal tongue to express. If I couldfind one thing as was right in the whole house, I'd be fair and squareenough to overlook the others; but there ain't to my mind a singlesolitary betterment. There's glass knobs on all the doors as will showevery finger mark, and will keep me busy wiping from dawn to dark. Theold brown knobs never showed nothing and didn't never have to be thoughtof, let alone polished. It's always been my idea as a cupboard was aplace to shut things up in out of sight, and here if he hasn't gon
e andput glass doors on the one in the corner of the dining room, so as everyone can see just what's meant to be hid. It's clear to be seen he'scrazy on the subject of glass, which I ain't and never have been. And Idon't like the way he's stinted things as is necessary and put all themoney in things as had better been left out. Necessities beforeeverything is my motto. What use, I'd like to know, is that cupid androse cornish? But he puts that there just to catch dust and leaves outthe whole of one parlor wall. If you'll believe me, Mrs. Lathrop,there's not a hair or hide of a wall between my entry hall and myparlor. Nothing but a pair of white posts as most people use on theirpiazzas. How I'm ever going to keep that parlor dark I don't see; forhe's got glass over the front door and on both sides of it, and noshutters to keep the sun out. He's built in both the kitchen stove andthe ice box, and for the life of me, I can't find no reasonable way oftaking the ashes out of the one or the water out of the other. Thebuilder says the ashes dump into a place in the cellar and the waterfrom the ice drains down a pipe underneath the house. But I don't likeneither plan. The drip from a ice box is a very cheering sound, I think,and with hot ashes going down cellar where you can't see 'em, I'll be indeadly fear of the house going up in smoke while I'm dreaming in my bed.The long and the short of it is, Mrs. Lathrop, I feel as I have beenassaulted and robbed. Jathrop's took away my home and left me a house asisn't a home to me and never can be. And as far as I can see, he's donethe same to you, which is ten thousand times worse, you being hismother."

  "I--" began Mrs. Lathrop, taking up the letter from her lap so that atlast it was forced upon Susan's observance.

  "From him, I suppose," Miss Clegg instantly concluded, reaching for it."If he's got anything to say in his defence, I'm sure I'd delight toread it. But no matter what he says, he can't undo to me what he's doneto me. I'll never feel the same towards Jathrop, your son or not yourson, Mrs. Lathrop, as long as I live."

  Mrs. Lathrop passed the letter to Miss Clegg. Like all of Jathrop'sletters, it was brief and to the point. He announced that he would spendChristmas with his mother in her rebuilt home and would bring with him afriend as his guest. Susan read it over twice, turning the page eachtime, evidently in hope of finding an enlightening postscript.

  "Well, of all things!" she exclaimed, as she passed the letter back toher friend. "Coming to see his work of destruction and going to bring_her_ with him!"

  "He don't--" Mrs. Lathrop endeavored to explain.

  "He don't, because he don't dare; but there's no question what he means.He's bringing the senora. And he wouldn't bring her if it wasn't thathe's going to marry her. Even you must see that. And if there was ever ainsult multiplied by perjury, Jathrop's done it in that action. It's agood thing he didn't ask: 'How's Susan Clegg?' this time, as he did thetime he was coming back from the Klondike. For I don't believe I couldever have stood that. All I can say, Mrs. Lathrop, is as I'm sorry foryou from the soles of my feet up. You'll never in the world be able toget up a Christmas dinner as will please any senora, you can take myword on that. And not to please her will be a bad beginning with asenora as is to be your future daughter-in-law. Senoras don't careshucks for turkey and mince pie. They're not used to 'em and likely toget indigestion from 'em, and think what it would mean to Jathrop, letalone to her, if she should be carried off by a acute attack right herein your new, built-over house, at the dinner table. He'd blame it onyou, and like as not she'd haunt you the rest of your living days. No,sir. You've got to give her Spanish omelets with lots of red peppers in'em, and everything else Creole style, which means all he't up withtabasco sauce fit to burn out your insides. It's eating like that asmakes those Spaniards and Cubans so dark colored you can't tell 'em frommulattoes. The peppers and the tabasco sauce bakes 'em brown on theoutside, after leaving 'em all scorched and parched within."

  For once, however, Susan Clegg was wrong in her deduction. Jathroparrived in a red automobile on the day before Christmas, with achauffeur in bear-skins driving, and a guest in sealskin beside him. Butthe guest was not the senora. It was one of Jathrop's millionairefriends who, Jathrop said, could buy and sell him twenty times over. Hewas a small man with a bald head and a red beard and old enough to beJathrop's father.

  Miss Clegg viewed the arrival from her bedroom window and was so glad itwasn't the senora that she at once set about baking extra doughnuts andmince pie to contribute to the festivities of the morrow. This occupiedher until supper time. Then she made a hurried meal, washed her oneplate and cup and saucer, and loaded down with her thank offering,flitted through the pergola and in at Mrs. Lathrop's kitchen door. Thekitchen was empty, but voices penetrating from the dining room told herthat her friend and her visitors were still at table. Being a triflenervous and unable to sit quietly, she began at once to put thedisordered kitchen into some degree of order, purely for the sake ofoccupation.

  She had just finished washing and scouring the pots and pans and wasflushing the waste-pipe of Mrs. Lathrop's new porcelain sink withlye-water so strong that her eyes ran tears from the fumes, when thevoices growing more and more audible told her that Jathrop was leadinghis mother and his guest toward the kitchen. She just had time hurriedlyto dry her hands on the roller towel when they appeared.

  "Well, well," exclaimed Jathrop, in apparent surprise, "if here ain'tour old friend, Susan Clegg!"

  There is no question that Miss Clegg was slightly flustered at thusbeing taken unawares, but she recovered herself promptly, and shookhands cordially with Jathrop and not less cordially with the littlemillionaire, whom he introduced as Mr. Kettlewell. And Mr. Kettlewellwas cordiality itself. Everybody sat down, right there in the kitchenand talked for a full hour, and in the course of the talk, Jathrop toldSusan that he had arranged with a department store in New York to lether have whatever she needed for her built-over house and charge thesame to his account. She could select the things from the firm'scatalogue, or go to the city at his expense and pick out the actualarticles. It was his Christmas present to his mother's and his ownoldest friend. In conclusion, Jathrop joined with his mother in aninvitation to Susan to take Christmas dinner with them; and Mr.Kettlewell smilingly begged her, for his sake, not to refuse. AltogetherSusan had the pleasantest evening she had experienced in years, and thenext morning, while Jathrop and Mr. Kettlewell were off in the car afterevergreens with which to decorate the two houses, she ran over with theexpress purpose of telling Mrs. Lathrop so.

  "Jathrop mayn't have much judgment when it comes to selectingarchitects," she began, "nor again when it comes to selecting servants,as was proved by his bringing that Hop Loo all the way from theKlondike. Nor again, neither, when it comes to wives, if it's a realfact that he's going to marry a brown-baked senora; but there's nogetting away from the fact that he's a king in choosing his men friends.I've seen men in my life of all sorts and descriptions, from theminister to the blacksmith, but I ain't never see before such ahandsome, high-minded, superior gentleman as Jathrop's friend, Mr.Kettlewell. I never thought much of bald-headed men before, but his headis so white and shiny, it's a pleasure to look at it. And I always justhated a red beard; but Mr. Kettlewell's beard is of a different red.It's a nice, warm, comforting red as makes you feel as cosy as the glowof a red-hot stove when the thermometer's down around zero. I can't sayeither, Mrs. Lathrop, as I wasn't more or less prejudiced against men asnever rightly grew up, but stopped in the women's sizes. But there's asomething about Mr. Kettlewell's proportions as gives you the idea he'sreally taller than he seems. And there's only one thing to compare hisvoice to. It's milk and honey. My lands, what a sweet, clear-rolling,liquid voice that Mr. Kettlewell has!"

  "Ja--" began Mrs. Lathrop.

  "Yes, I heard him. But I don't put that against Mr. Kettlewell, not a_tall_. I'm sure he made every penny of it honestly, and if he's retiredfrom business now, it don't mean he's quit work. It's no easy jobcutting coupons off all the bonds he must have, and collecting rents isa occupation I don't envy nobody. It's the penalty that rich men have topay for their success. They wor
k hard to get the principal, and thenthey're made to work twice as hard to get the interest. There's no suchthing as rest for the rich any more'n there is for the poor. I used tothink before Father died as I'd like to roll in wealth, but it ain't noeasy rolling, I can tell you that, Mrs. Lathrop, especially when you'vegot a tenant like Mrs. Macy, who won't buy so much as a gas-tip or do somuch as drive a nail without charging it up to the owner."

  Miss Clegg's participation in the Christmas dinner at her neighbors' wastwofold. She took part in its preparation as well as in its discussion.It was her soup which began it, it was her "stuffing" which added zestto the roast turkey, it was her cranberry sauce which sweetenedcontrastingly the high seasoning, and it was her mince pie which broughtthe repast to a fitting and enjoyable close. Seated opposite to Mr.Kettlewell, where she could revel in a full view of his shining pate andhis warmly comforting whiskers, her enjoyment was ocular as well asgustatory; and under the caressing sweetness of his voice it waslikewise auricular. For the occasion Jathrop had provided a fine vintagechampagne, and though Miss Clegg, whose total-abstinence principlesforbade her to even taste, refrained from so much as touching her lipsto the edge of her glass, she unquestionably warmed in the stimulatingatmosphere of the sparkling, bubbling, golden juice of the grape. To herit was indeed the red-letter Christmas of her life, and every incident,of the dinner especially, was a matter for reflection and rumination inthe succeeding hours.

  In this vale of tears, however, there is apparently no great joy withoutits compensating sorrow; and in Susan Clegg's case the one followedswiftly on the heels of the other. In the pale gray of the dawn of thefollowing day, Susan Clegg dashed wildly out of her kitchen door andflitted with lifted skirts across the brief intervening space that ledto Mrs. Lathrop's back door. As pallid as the morning itself, her scanthair streaming, her eyes wide with mixed terror and indignation, sheburst into her neighbor's kitchen, where to her great relief she foundher old friend already up and occupied.

  One glimpse of Susan was enough for Mrs. Lathrop. Up went her hands anddown went she on to the nearest chair with an inarticulate gasp ofhorrified yet questioning astonishment, while Miss Clegg flopped limplyinto another at the end of the kitchen table.

  There she must have sat for a full minute before she could get breath toutter a word, which, being contrary to all her habits, was in itselfterrifying to her friend. Eventually, however, she forced herself toassume an upright position and simultaneously attained a somewhatfeeble attempt at speech.

  "Well, of all things in this world to happen to me!" Then she paused fora fresh breath, which being utterly without precedent, added mightily toMrs. Lathrop's alarm. "And even now at this minute I don't really knowwhether I'm more dead than alive, or more alive than dead."

  Mrs. Lathrop, believing that the situation being extraordinary, someextraordinary effort on her part was demanded, stirred herself to aprolonged speech.

  "Don't tell me I'm looking--"

  "No, I'm not a ghost, if that's what you mean. You are looking at SusanClegg in the flesh--all the flesh that ain't been scared clean off her.But it's the greatest miracle as ever happened in this community thatit's my body and not my spirit as is here to tell the tale. My house wasbroken into by a burglar, Mrs. Lathrop, and I was tied up and gagged inone of my own chairs."

  Mrs. Lathrop just gasped. Susan drew herself up a little straighter,gaining courage from the sound of her own voice, and striking somethinglike her old oral gait.

  "I was gagged for five hours, Mrs. Lathrop, and knowing me as you do forall these years and years, maybe you can feel what being gagged for fivehours and not able to say even 'boo' meant to a active person like me.Every one of those hours was like a eternity in a Spanish inferno oftorture. And everything I possess in this world, from my bonnet andstriped silk dress to Father's deeds at the mercy of that gagger. Andall I've got to say is this: If I hadn't of been built over, it never inthe wide creation would have happened. And if your son Jathrop thinks hecan ever make up to me for being gagged by inviting me to a Christmasdinner, most of which I cooked with my own hands, and offering to giveme strange pieces of furniture to take the place of pieces as is oldfriends and dearer than the apples of my two eyes, he'd better do somemore thinking. There never was nothing about the house I was born in andmy mother and father died in to make a burglar look at it twice. Noburglar as had any respect for himself or his calling, Mrs. Lathrop,would have looked at it once or knowed as it was there. But built overit's as different as diamon's is from pebbles. It looks money from thetips of its lightning rods to its cellar windows and is as inviting torobbers as if it had a sign on the gatepost, reading: 'Walk in!' So,however you look at it, there's nobody responsible for my gagging andfor whatever is missing but one man, and that man is Jathrop Lathrop.It's easy to be seen as he's no more fit to have money than a crow assteals gold trinkets that cost fortunes and goes and hides 'em in hollowtrees. He was born poor, and the Lord meant him to stay poor, no matterwhat Mrs. Allen and her Persian religion has to say about things ashappens being meant to happen. The Lord hadn't nothing to do withJathrop going to the Klondike and getting rich, you can be certainabout that. If he hadn't been fool enough to take a kicking cow for aperfectly good debt and then let it loose to ride over a peaceful andlong-suffering community, he'd 'a' lived and died a pauper in this herevery town. So's far as I can see it was the devil and not the Lord asguided Jathrop from the first, and everything as has happened sinceshows the devil is still guiding him. Everything he turns his mind togoes by contraries. I'm not saying anything against the goodness ofJathrop's intentions, mind you, Mrs. Lathrop, but no matter how goodthey are, evil and misery certainly seems sure to follow."

  The tirade stirred Mrs. Lathrop to her feet, but she was not resentful.She knew that Susan Clegg's bitterness was confined to her tongue, andthat even with that she could salve as well as sting.

  "Can't I--?" she suggested.

  "Indeed you can," answered Miss Clegg. "I never felt as I needed a cupof tea more, and if the doughnuts I brought you ain't all eat up, I'drelish four or five of 'em right now."

  "You haven't--" began Mrs. Lathrop, taking down the teapot.

  "No; but I'm coming to it. I begun with the cause, and the effect'llcome trailing after like the tails of Mary's little lambs. Only thetails in this case was bigger than the sheep. It may have been hearingthe noise Jathrop makes when he eats, or it may have been your turkeygravy or your biscuits, Mrs. Lathrop, or all of 'em put together. Notknowing which, I'm not foolish enough to blame one more'n the other. Butit's a fact as is undeniable that I never slept poorer than last night.I was in bed by nine, but I never closed my eyes till eleven, and Icertainly heard the clock strike midnight. I counted goats jumping overa stile, and I counted 'em backward as well as forward, but I heard onestruck, and I heard two. And then I heard something as set my hair up onend and the gooseflesh sprouting all over me. It sounded like footstepsin the 'But. Pan.,' and they was too heavy for the cat's, I could tellthat at once, though at two in the morning it's surprising how loud acat's footsteps can sound, especially when it's reached the pouncingstage, and the rat ain't got no hole to run to. I'd forgot to put theturkey leg in the ice-box as I'd carried home with me, and all I couldthink of was that if it was the cat, there'd be nothing left on thatbone by morning, unless I stopped things right then and immediately.You'd never believe how cold a house can be at two o'clock in themorning of the day after Christmas unless you'd got up in it as I did;and now to look back at it, I see how lucky it was as it was as cold asit was, for if it hadn't of been, I'd a gone down just as I was, and Iwas in no trim to meet a man burglar, I can tell you _that_. So I justslipped into this flannel wrapper and a old pair of slippers, which I'vegot on now under these arctics, and I picked up the candle as I'd lit,and down-stairs I went. Well, Mrs. Lathrop, I hope you may never in yourborn days in this world or the other have such a shock as met me thereface to face in my own new, built-over kitchen. If there wasn't thebiggest giant of a man I ev
er see coming out of the shadows between thecookstove and the cellar door. And he with his head all wrapped aroundin one of my best plaid roller towels, so that nothing of him was to beseen but two fierce, staring, bloodshot eyes as gleamed like a wildbeast's. Oh, my soul and body, Mrs. Lathrop, that minute! How I everkept my senses I don't pretend to say, more especially as he was on mewith one jump. There was no such thing as holding on to the candle, youcan see that. It dropped, and I never knew I dropped it. For, of course,I shut my eyes, and when your eyes is shut, there's no knowing whetherthere's a lighted candle about or whether there isn't."

  In her agitation over the recital, Mrs. Lathrop, who was placing cupsand saucers on the table, let one of the cups slide crashing to thefloor. "Oh, Su--!" she exclaimed.

  "You may well say: 'Oh, Susan!'" Miss Clegg continued. "There is timeswhen 'Oh, Susan' don't half express the state of affairs, and this wasone of 'em, Mrs. Lathrop. It wasn't in nature for me not to scream, so Iscreamed, and it was that scream that did the business. It showed theburglar I wasn't deaf and dumb, and people as isn't deaf and dumb islooked on by burglars as their natural enemies. Maybe some people canscream without opening their mouths, but I never was one of that kind,and the kind as open their mouths when they scream is the kind that allburglars prefer. It saves 'em the trouble of forcing apart their jaws. Inever shut my mouth after opening it; for the burglar just shovedsomething in it as quick as scat, and then he tied a bandage around backof my head so I couldn't spit it out. Then he picked me up and plumpedme down hard in a chair and tied me fast to it with my own clothesline.And all the time he never no more opened his lips to speak than if hecouldn't. It's my opinion he must have had a cold and lost his voice.Either that, or his voice was such a unpleasant voice he was ashamed tolet anybody hear it. For it ain't in common sense as a man, even if heis a burglar, could keep as still as he did, if he had a speaking voicethat's in any way fit for use. I know in the time he took there was alot of things I felt to say to him, and would if I could, and commonsense'll tell you, Mrs. Lathrop, that he must have felt to say a lot ofthings to me. But he didn't make so much as a peep behind his rollertowel."

  "Did--?" asked Mrs. Lathrop, pouring the tea.

  "I can't say as he did or he didn't. I haven't missed nothing yet, butthen I haven't looked. Still, if he didn't I can't say as I'd have muchrespect for him. What sort of a burglar would a burglar be to take allthat trouble of breaking in, binding and gagging, and then go awaywithout helping himself to something for his trouble. I ain't got nolove for burglars in general or in particular. But any burglar as 'lddo a fool trick like that I ain't got no respect for neither."

  "How--?" queried her neighbor as she passed Susan her cup.

  "It was something of a job I can tell you, but when I sets my mind to athing I sets my mind to it, and ropes and a kitchen chair ain't got thepower to stop me. I begun wriggling as soon as I heard the burglar shutthe door behind him, and I kept on wriggling for every minute of thefive hours. A tramped-on worm never did more turning and wriggling thanI did between two and seven this morning, and at last wriggling beingits own reward, I wriggled free, first with my hands and then with myfeet. But before I got my feet free, I undid the band and ungaggedmyself and said just a few of the things that was bottled up all thattime. The Bible says there's a time to talk and a time to be still, butthere's such a thing as overdoing the still time, I think, and whenyou're gagged by a burglar is one of 'em."

  Susan sipped her tea for a moment in silence.

  "Where's Jathrop and Mr. Kettlewell?" she asked at length. "Ain't theyup yet?"

  Mrs. Lathrop nodded. "They start--" she began.

  "You don't mean they've both lit out already?" asked Susan in surprise.Then: "I was hoping to see Mr. Kettlewell again. But it's a long journeyback to New York, so I suppose they set off before light."

  Mrs. Lathrop nodded once more.

  "Aren't--?" she questioned.

  "I certainly am. I'm going to report the burglary at once. I've got aclue, and it ought to be easy enough to run down that burglar." She drewfrom her bosom a rather damp handkerchief. "That's what he left me tochew on for five hours," she said, as she spread it out. "And there'sthe clue right there in the corner."

  Mrs. Lathrop took it to the window and inspected it through her glasses.The handkerchief was initialed with a "K."

  The New Year came and January was passing and, so far as Susan Cleggcared to divulge at least, there was no news of her burglar. It wasnoted, however, not only by Mrs. Lathrop, but by Mrs. Macy and Gran'maMullins, and indeed by all the ladies of the Sewing Society, that MissClegg had adopted an air of secretiveness concerning the matter that wasquite foreign to her usual frank, unreserved communicativeness. But thecuriosity provoked by this strangely unfamiliar attitude was swallowedup in the sensational tidings which spread throughout the communityshortly after. Without so much as a hint of warning, Susan Clegg hadvanished between dark and dawn, leaving her house locked, bolted, andbarred, the blinds drawn, and the shutters fast closed.

  For once Mrs. Lathrop, thus deprived of her prop and her stay, evincedsufficient initiative to have the cellar door forced and a search of thepremises made; a rumor having got abroad that the burglar had returned,this time more murderously inclined, and that Miss Clegg's mangledcorpse would be found stiff and stark within her own darkened domicile.To every one's infinite relief the search proved the rumor utterlyunfounded; and it proved something more, as well. It proved that Susan'sdeparture was plainly premeditated--"with malice prepense," to quoteJudge Fitch--since all her best clothes had gone with her. Whereuponsentiment switched to the opposite pole, and it was openly declared thatMiss Clegg had gone after the burglar.

  The wonder was of a magnitude calculated to extend far beyond theproverbial nine days, and it probably would have greatly exceeded thatlimit, had not the heroine of the affair chosen to cut it short of herown volition by reappearing quite as suddenly as she had vanished, atthe end of a single week.

  Mrs. Lathrop, looking across from her bedroom window as she arose fromher night's sleep on the morning of the eighth day, was joyouslystartled to see the Clegg windows unshaded, and the house otherwisedisplaying signs of rehabitation. Nor did she have long to wait for theexplanation of the mystery, which to the exclusion of everything elsehad filled her mind ever since her friend's going. With a shawl over herhead and shoulders, she hastened through the pergola, and the nextmoment was facing her neighbor with glad eyes across four yards ofkitchen floor space.

  "Oh, Susan! Such a fri--" These were her four and a half words ofgreeting.

  "I knew it would," Miss Clegg caught her up, beaming as Mrs. Lathropcouldn't remember ever to have seen her beam before. "I knew it wouldfrighten you all half to death, but when a thing's to be done, it's tobe done, and there ain't no use shirking. I had to go, and I had to goquick, and I was never so glad of anything in my life, past or present,as that I went. Of course, it was all along of that burglary, as anyfool might have guessed if they took the trouble. In the first place, Idon't mind telling you now, I went straight to Mr. Weskin the morningafter it happened, and I took him the clue and showed it to him. The wayhe spun around in his spinning chair was fit to make even a level-headedperson like me dizzy. He examined the linen, and he examined the way theK was worked, and then he says, no it couldn't possibly be Mr.Kimball's. Now, what _do_ you think of that? Just as if I ever suspectedit was. I guess I know Mr. Kimball well enough to know him, even if hehas got his head wrapped up in one of my new roller towels, and I toldLawyer Weskin so. Mr. Kimball, indeed! But Lawyer Weskin said as hedidn't never hear of a burglar whose name commenced with K, and hedidn't know a soul in these parts either, burglar or no burglar, whosename did, except Mr. Kimball. There's only one way to ferret out theperpetrator of a crime, he says, and that's by deduction, and the firstrule of deduction is to guess what the K stands for. I never thoughtmuch of Lawyer Weskin, I'm free to admit that, but if he don't knownothing else, it's as clear as shooting that he d
oes know abouteducation. For in the end it worked out just as he said, and the Lord bepraised for it."

  "You don't--" began Mrs. Lathrop in astonishment.

  "I don't say as Mr. Kimball had a thing to do with it. I certainlydon't. In the first place, Mr. Kimball would never dare to come to myhouse at such a hour of the morning, and in the second place Mr. Kimballnever carried as fine a handkerchief as the one I chewed on. So that putit past Mr. Kimball. And the only other K I could possibly think of wasold Mrs. Kitts over to Meadville, who could no more of got over herethan could the king of the Sandwich Islands, whose name begins with K,too. There was the Kellys, of course, but the Kellys couldn't qualifyneither, for they're too rich to need to do any burglarizing. Well, Ican tell you, I soon come to a point where I didn't know where to turn,and I never would of turned neither, if it hadn't of been for a letter Igot the day of the night I went away. You'd never guess in the world,Mrs. Lathrop, who that letter was from so I may as well tell you firstas last. It was from Mr. Kettlewell."

  Mrs. Lathrop opened her mouth in astonishment, but no sound came forth.

  "I knew it'ld surprise you, but it's as true as we're both standing inthis kitchen at this minute. It was a very nice letter, and it said ashow he had admired me from the first minute he saw me, but moreparticularly after he'd sat opposite to me at the table and eat mycranberry sauce. He said he'd always loved cranberry sauce, but as hefelt he'd never tasted none until he tasted mine. I certainly never seea more complimentary letter than that letter of Mr. Kettlewell's. But itwas the end of the letter where he signed his name that lit me up withthe clear light of revelation. Until I see his name spelled out there inblack and white, I never once believed it begun with a K. I'd thoughtall along as his name was Cattlewell, with a C. Far be it from me, Mrs.Lathrop, to ever have suspected as Jathrop's friend would stoop tohousebreaking and to binding and gagging a lone woman, but there's otherways as his handkerchief might have got to my mouth, and I felt to knowthe truth. His address was on the letter, and there was nothing as couldhave stayed me from getting to that address as fast as steam and steelcould carry me. I left in the middle of the night, and I got to New Yorkin the morning, and I didn't have that feeling for nothing. Mr.Kettlewell was at his hotel, and in all my born days I never see aperson gladder to see anybody than Mr. Kettlewell was to see me. It'smarvelous what a impression a little good cooking will make on a man,even if it's only in cranberry sauce. His mouth actually hadn't stoppedwatering yet. Leastwise he said it hadn't, and I'd be a fool not tobelieve him. He begun talking about it right away, and I let him talk,just so's I could look at his shiny bald head and his red whiskerswithout having to think of anything else except the sound of hismilk-and-honey voice. Finally he said he supposed I'd come to the cityto select Jathrop's Christmas present of furnishings, and if I'd likehim to help me select 'em, he'd be glad enough to go along and lend ahand. Well, nothing could of been nicer than that, now, could it? But Itold him I wasn't one as traveled all the way to New York under falsepretences, and that if he must have the truth, I'd never give onethought to Jathrop's present since he mentioned it. All my thought, Isaid, had been give to finding a handkerchief with a K onto it, whichI'd washed and ironed with my own hands and brought to him, believing Imust of picked it up at the Christmas dinner by mistake, and not wantinghim to feel the need of it any longer. And you can believe me or not,Mrs. Lathrop, just as you feel about it, if he didn't right then andthere on seeing that clue, confess that it did belong to him, and thathe couldn't for the life of him remember where he'd left it."

  Mrs. Lathrop, who had been standing all the while, dropped into a chairat this point in dumb stupefaction. But Susan, who had been caught witha bowl of batter in one hand and a spoon in the other, paused only to doa little more stirring.

  "Yes, sir," she went on, still apparently as pleased as punch. "The cluebelonged to Mr. Kettlewell and no one else, which led me to suspectright away that the burglar must have robbed your house first. I knowedvery well that I never carried that clue home myself, though I'd said Imight, just for the sake of drawing Mr. Kettlewell on. And so how couldit have got into my mouth unless the burglar got it from Mr. Kettlewellhimself? But there is stranger things in this world than you and me everdreamed of, Mrs. Lathrop, and that was one of 'em. Mr. Kettlewell is avery frank and open gentleman, and seeing how disturbed I was oversomething, though I'd never so much as breathed burglar or burglary, hemade another confession. And when it comes to dreaming, there is veryfew people, he said, as has the power to dream the way he does. Hedon't just lie still in bed and picture things out in his sleep, but hegets up and does the things he's dreaming about. He ain't got nolimitations in it, either. Sleepwalkers is more or less common. Butsleepwalkers just walk, and that ends 'em. Mr. Kettlewell says he veryseldom walks. He usually drives a automobile when he's dreaming, just ashe does when he's wide awake. Sometimes he comes to while he's driving,and he's found himself often as much as a couple a hundred miles fromhome, and without a cent in his clothes, the clothes usually being justpajamas with nothing but a handkerchief in the pocket. Now, if you hadany imagination a _tall_, Mrs. Lathrop, you'd see what I'm coming to,but as you haven't you don't, I can tell by the way you look. So you'llget the full benefit of the surprise when I say that on Christmas nightMr. Kettlewell distinctly remembers he dreamed of committing a burglary.He says it wasn't my mince pie as did it, because he's often eatenmince pie before and never dreamed nothing worse than going to theelectric chair; and it wasn't my stuffing neither, for turkey stuffingwhen it's indigestible always makes him dream he's a monkey climbingtrees. He says once he woke up sudden and fell and broke his arm, butthat that was a long while ago. Now he's had more experience, he neverwakes up till he's safe back in bed again. And he says doughnuts causeshis dreams to run back to when he was a boy, and one time he come to,after a after-dinner nap, when he had doughnuts for dessert, playingmarbles in the back alley with a lot of street urchins. I can tell you,Mrs. Lathrop, he was most interesting. He's got all his dreams sort ofclassified in that way, and can almost tell to a dot what he'll dreamabout according to what he eats. And he says soggy biscuits always makeshim dream he's robbing a house or killing somebody. It was mighty luckyfor me, as you can see for yourself, that this time he only dreamed ofbinding and gagging. If he'd dreamed of murder, I'd not be here now totell the tale. And it's clean to be seen that your biscuits would ofbeen an accessory before the fact."

  "Then he--"

  "Yes, it was him as done it, and without no moral blame attaching to hima _tall_. If he'd killed me, the law couldn't of touched him either, forthe law takes no account of what a person does while they're asleep. Butas you made the biscuits in your full senses and with your eyes wideopen, you'd of been the only one to blame."

  Mrs. Lathrop groaned. "You know, Sus--" she protested.

  "Of course if I was alive, I'd never hold it against you, because I knowvery well you can't make biscuits no better, and ain't never had senseenough to learn. But if I was murdered, my ghost couldn't testify, and Idon't see as how you could be saved from the law taking its course."

  At this juncture there was a sound overhead, and both ladies started,Mrs. Lathrop in surprise and her friend in sudden realization ofneglected duties.

  "What is--?" inquired Mrs. Lathrop.

  "It's him," answered Susan. "Mr. Kettlewell. And the coffee's boiled nowtill it's bitter, and there ain't a single cake on the griddle." She wasturning back to the stove as Mrs. Lathrop's exclamation caught her andswitched her around.

  "Why, Susan Clegg!"

  "Don't Susan Clegg me, Mrs. Lathrop," she commanded. "There ain't noSusan Clegg any more. When Susan Clegg disappeared a week ago lastnight, she disappeared for good, never to return. And if you suspectanything else, it's best I should introduce myself here and now,--SusanKettlewell, from this time forth, if you please."

  Mrs. Lathrop sprang up and dropped back again.

  "You don't--"

  "I do. I do mean to say I'm marr
ied at last. We was wedded with a ringin New York last Wednesday, and it's my husband's footsteps you hear upthere in the new bathroom."

  She dropped three spreading spoonfuls of batter on the greased griddleand gave Mrs. Lathrop a full minute to absorb the announcement. Then, asshe drew the coffee pot to one side, she continued:

  "And it was purely a love match, make no mistake about that. He's gotmoney enough to buy and sell Jathrop, but he's as simple-minded andsimple-tasted as a babe in arms. And there's nothing I can think of thathe's not ready and willing to give me. Besides, he's frank and openabout everything. He says his teeth is false, and he has a bullet in hisright leg, got one time when he dreamed somebody was shooting him; butthat otherwise he's as perfect as a man of his age can be. He says he'llbuy a wig if I want him to, and that if I don't like the color of hiswhiskers, he'll have 'em dyed whatever color I'd like best, and thewig'l be made to match. But I wouldn't have him changed the least mite.And if there's one thing in the world I'm thankful for it is that I gothim and not Jathrop. And I'm not thinking from the financial standpoint,neither."

  THE END

  * * * * *

  Distinctive Fiction by Anne Warner

  The reading world owes Anne Warner a vote of thanks for her contributions to the best of American humor.--_New York Times._

  Anne Warner has taken her place as one of the drollest of American humorists.--_Century Magazine._

  The Gay and Festive Claverhouse

  A story of the desperate attempt of a supposedly dying man to lose the love of a girl.

  Sunshine Jane

  The joyful story of a Sunshine Nurse whose mission was not to care for sick bodies but to heal sick souls.

  When Woman Proposes.

  A clever and entertaining story of a woman who fell in love with an army officer.

  How Leslie Loved

  Not only a buoyant love story but a penetrating satire on modern manners.

  Just Between Themselves

  A vivacious satire on married life which is full of mirth of the quieter, chuckling variety.

  The Taming of Amorette

  A clever comedy telling how a man cured his attractive wife of flirting.

  Susan Clegg, Her Friend, and Her Neighbors

  A study of life which is most delectable for its simplicity and for the quaint character creation.

  Susan Clegg and a Man in the House

  The remarkable happenings at the Clegg homestead after the boarder came.

  The Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary.

  The pranks of a scapegrace nephew who was showing his old aunt a "good time."

  In a Mysterious Way

  Compounded of amusing studies of human nature in a rural community.

  A Woman's Will

  Describes the wooing of a young American widow on the continent by a musical genius.

  Little, Brown & Co., _Publishers_, Boston