Its gentle Paradise was suddenly broken in upon and rent apart by a succession of the most piercing shrieks that ever originated in the throat of a human being. Mrs. Lathrop came to herself with a violent start, sprang to her feet, ran to the door, and then stood still, completely dazed and at first unable to discern from which direction the ear-splitting screams proceeded. Then, in a second, her senses returned to her, and she ran as fast as she could to the fence. As she approached the boundary, she saw Susan standing in one of her upstairs windows and yelling at the top of her voice. Mrs. Lathrop paused for no conventionalities of civilization. She hoisted herself over the fence in a fashion worthy a man or a monkey, ran across the Clegg yard, entered the kitchen door, stumbled breathlessly up the dark back stairs, and gasped, grabbing Susan hard by the elbow,—
"What is it, for pity's—"
Susan was all colors and shaking as if with the ague.
"You never told me 's it 'd work so quick," she cried out.
"What would—"
"The feathers!"
"Whose feathers?"
"Father's feathers."
"Lord have mercy, Susan, you don't mean—"
"Yes, I do."