"There's a new clerk in the drug-store,—I see him through the window when I was comin' home to-day. He looked to be a nice kind o' man, but I can't help feelin' 't it 'd be kind o' awkward to go up to him 'n' have to begin by askin' him what my name 'd be 'f I married him. Maybe there's them 's could do such a thing, but I 've never had nothin' about me 's 'd lead me to throw myself at the head o' any man, 'n' it's too late in the day f'r me to start in now."
Mrs. Lathrop again attempted to get in a word and was again unsuccessful.
"I don't believe 't there's another free man in the town. I've thought 'n' thought 'n' I can't think o' one." She stopped and sighed.
"There's Jathrop!" said Mrs. Lathrop, with sudden and complete success. Jathrop was her son, so baptized through a fearful slip of the tongue at a critical moment. He was meant to have been John.
Miss Clegg gave such a start that she dropped her fan over the fence.
"Well, Heaven forgive me!" she cried,—"'n' me 't never thought of him once, 'n' him so handy right on the other side of the fence! Did I ever!"
"He ain't thir—" said Mrs. Lathrop, picking up the fan.
"I don't care. What's twelve years or so when it's the woman 's 'as got the property? Well, Mrs. Lathrop, I certainly am obliged to you for mentionin' him, for I don't believe he ever would 'a' occurred to me in kingdom come. 'N' here I've been worryin' my head off ever since supper-time 'n' all for suthin' 's close 's Jathrop Lathrop. But I had good cause to worry, 'n' now 't it's over I don't mind mentionin' the reason 'n' tellin' you frank 'n' plain 't I'd begun on my things. I cut out a pink nightgown last night, a real fussy one, 'n' I felt sick all over 't the thought 't perhaps I'd wasted all that cloth. There wasn't nothin' foolish about cuttin' out the nightgown, for I'd made up my mind 't if it looked too awful fancy on 't I'd just put it away for the oldest girl when she gets married, but o' course 'f I can't get a husband stands to reason there'll be no oldest girl, 'n' all that ten cent gingham 't Shores is sellin' off't five 'd be a dead waste o' good stuff."
Mrs. Lathrop chewed her clover.
"Do you suppose there'll be any trouble with Jathrop? Do you suppose it'll matter any to him which side o' the fence he lives on?"