"I think he's pret—" said Mrs. Lathrop, musingly.
"I won't say 't I don't think so, too," said Susan; "but I never was one to turn a blind eye to the dirt on the outside o' nothin',—'s you know to your cost, Mrs. Lathrop,—'n' such bein' the case, I certainly did feel to regret 's the dove 'd had such long wear 'n' tear afore it come Mrs. White's turn to be sat on. I was fond o' Mrs. White; we had n't spoke in years, owin' to her bein' too deaf to hear, but what I see of her from the street was always pleasant, 'n' I did n't like to think 's maybe anythin' 'd be left out o' the last of her. So we let it all go, 'n' we certainly had our reward for so doin' when we see the result; for Mr. Kimball did a fine job then 'n' there, 'n' when he was dry-cleaned inside 'n' out, 'n' his beak 'n' feet painted, 'n' new beads for eyes—well, all I can say is 't I wish you 'd been there to see him, that 's all. He took his wings completely off, so 's to give him the air o' bein' folded up; 'n' then he stuck a gilt arrow in his heart 'n' laid him cornerways on the deacon's cross o' tiger-lilies. 'N' he did n't stop 't that, neither; he took his wings 'n' sewed 'em to each side of a red heart left over from a euchre-party, 'n' laid the whole on Mr. Jilkins's piller o' pansies, so the deacon could n't in conscience feel 't anythin' 's he 'd paid for was wasted. I 've said all along, 'n' I'll say ag'in here 'n' now, 't it was all one o' the prettiest things I ever see; 'n' I was n't the only one 's felt that way, for I 've heard lots o' folks say since 's they 'll want the dove just so for themselves."
Mrs. Lathrop turned a little uneasily; Susan did not appear to notice the indication of a possible impatience.
"It was all a great success," she went on calmly. "The minister's discourse was very fine; only when he prayed for consolation we all knowed he meant 'Liza Em'ly. All but the deacon, that is. I guess the deacon was thinkin' more o' Gran'ma Mullins 'n any one else 't first; Mrs. Jilkins told me he asked how old she was, comin' back in the carriage."
"I allers thought—" said Mrs. Lathrop.
"So did a good many people. I don't know 's that was surprisin', either; for it's a well-known fact 's they was fond o' each other forty or fifty years back. She 's got a daguerre'type o' him 's is so old 't you can't be very sure whether it 's him, after all. She says she ain't positive herself, 'cause she had one o' her cousin 's shot himself by accident on his way to the war, 'n' the wreath o' flowers stamped on the red velvet inside was just the same in both cases. You have to go by the light 'n' tip him a good while to say for sure whether he's got a collar on or not, 'n' you could n't swear to his havin' on anythin' else if you was to turn him round 'n' round till doomsday. She had that picture in a box with her first hair 'n' Hiram's first tooth 'n' a nut 't she said the deacon did a hole in with his knife when they was children together one day. She showed 'em all to me one time when I was there; I did n't think much o' the nut, I must say. But I will say as it seemed to make her happy, so I jus' remarked 't it was surprisin' how foolish we got 's we got old, 'n' let it go 't that. It was a while after 's he took her to Meadville to the circus; it 's a well-known fact 's she was fool enough to look upon bein' took to a circus 's next thing to bein' asked out 'n' out. She come up to tell me all about it afterward."
"'N' yet—" said Mrs. Lathrop.
"It just shows the vanity o' feelin' sure o' mortal man," continued Susan. "She was sure, 'n' Mrs. Allen was sure, 'n' the minister had faith; 'n' then there was Mrs. Macy, too. There was a while when it looked to me 's if swoopin' down 'n' then pinnin' flat c'd catch anythin,' 't Mrs. Macy 'd have the deacon, she was so everlastingly on hand. Why, I never walked by his house but I met her, 'n' that was far too often to ever by any chance be called a' accident. But she was too open; my own experience is 't bein' frank 'n' free is time throwed away on men. If anythin' serious is to be done with a man, it's got to be done from behind a woodpile. I had some little dealin's with men in the marryin' line once, 'n' I found 'em very shy; tamin' gophers is sleepin' in the sun beside grabbin' a man 's dead against bein' grabbed. I don't say 's it can't be done, but I will say 't it 's hard in the first 'n' harder in the last, when you 've got him 'n' he's got you, like the minister 's got his wife."
"But Mrs. Macy ain't—" protested Mrs. Lathrop.
"No; 'n' it's her own fault, too. He told me this afternoon 's the way she smiled on him right in the first days made the marrow run up 'n' down his back. He said he c'd 'a' stood lots o' things, but no human bein' but gets mad bein' forever smiled at. Then she knit him things. He says she knit him a pair o' snap-on slippers 's Heaven 'll surely forgive him if he ever see the like of. He said they stuck out 's far behind 's in front, 'n' all in the world 't he c'd do was to sit perfectly still in the middle of 'em 'n' content himself with viewin' 'em 's slippers. But he says the worst was, she cooked him things; he says he won't say what he 's paid young Dr. Brown for advice regardin' things 's she 's cooked him, not to speak o' that time he cut himself so bad pryin' at one o' her undercrusts. 'N,' just between you 'n' me, Mrs. Lathrop, he says it 's a secret 's he will carry to his grave unsealed as she give him a crock o' gherkins on his birthday, with a pair o' buttonhole scissors at the bottom.