"What is it, anyhow?" the younger woman demanded.
Mrs. Lathrop coughed again.
"Susan, did I feel a feather—"
"Yes," said Susan, in great surprise; "he likes one."
"I sh'd think it was too hot this—"
"He don't never complain o' the heat, 'n' he hates the chill o' rainy days."
Mrs. Lathrop coughed again.
Miss Clegg's interest bordered on impatience.
"Now, Susan, I ain't sayin' as it's noways true, but I have heard as there's them 's can't die on—"
"On feathers?" cried the daughter.