"Do you—" cried Mrs. Lathrop, open-eyed.
"No, I don't, for I asked him an' he crossed his heart to the contrary. But really, Mrs. Lathrop, you must let me read the rest of this for I've got to be gettin' home to get supper."
"Go—" said the neighbor.
"No, I won't till I've done. The next one is this one an' it says, 'How long ought any one to wait to get married? I have waited several years an' there is nothin' against the man except he's eighty-two an' paralyzed. I am seventy-nine. Pa an' Ma oppose the match an' are the oldest couple in the country,' an' Elijah has signed it 'Lovin'ly, Rosy'—of all the silly things!"
"He must be—" cried Mrs. Lathrop.
"I should think so," said Susan; "why, he was rollin' all over the sofa laughin' over that. The answer is, 'I would wait a little longer—you can lose nothin' by patience.' I call that pretty silly, too."
"I—" said Mrs. Lathrop.
"Yes, indeed," said Susan, folding up the paper, "I felt it an' I said it, an' I knew you'd feel to agree. I like Elijah, but I must say as I don't like his Advice Column, an' I'd never be one to advise no one to write to it for advice. His answers don't seem to tell you nothin', to my order of thinkin', an' that one about the pickles struck me just like a slap in my face."
"I'd never—" said Mrs. Lathrop.
"Nor me neither. If I want to know I come to you."