"Don't interrupt me, Mrs. Lathrop; I'm in no mood to listen to no one just now. I ain't mad, but I'm hurt. It's no wonder I dreamed he was a cat, for of all the sly, back-door things a cat is the meanest. And there was always something very cat-like about Jathrop Lathrop—something soft and slow and creepy—nothing bold and out-spoken. I might have known as even if he did come home rich, he'd find a way to even it up. And now look how he has evened it up. Think of your grandchildren; there won't be one of 'em able to ever look anybody straight in more'n one eye at once. Marrying Chinese is terrible, anyway—in some States it's forbidden. It's to be hoped Jathrop'll keep out of those States or he may land in the penitentiary yet."
Just here the front door slammed, and Jathrop's voice was heard calling, "Where are you, mother?"
He didn't wait for an answer, but came straight through the kitchen. Entering there, what he saw startled him so much that he came to a sudden halt.
"We've been telling your—" began Mrs. Macy.
"—mother about your wife," finished up Susan.
Jathrop looked at all three in great astonishment. "About my wife!" he repeated. "Did you say 'my wife'?"
"Yes," said Susan, absolutely undaunted. "I think it would have been kinder in you to have broke it to her yourself; but anyhow, we've done it now."
"Oh, Jathrop, my son, my son!" wailed poor Mrs. Lathrop in heart-wringing Biblical paraphrase.
"But I haven't got any wife," said Jathrop. "What under the sun do you mean?"
There was a clammy pause; Susan and Mrs. Macy clasped hands.