"The poor thing!" she says, "Lot told me some about him. He's in error, ain't he. Horatio, my husband that was, was in error, too, but he died of it. That was afore I got enlightened. And you're in error with your foot, Cap'n Snow, so Lot says. Well, it's a mercy I'm here. The first thing I'll do for you is to give you a cheerful thought. 'All's right in the world.' You keep thinkin' that this forenoon and I'll give you another after dinner. I must get a thought for poor Lemuel, but he needs a stronger one. I'll have one ready for him pretty soon. Now I must do my dishes."
Soon's she cleared out this time I locked my door. An hour or so later there was a snappish kind of knock on it.
"Cap'n Snow! I say, Cap'n Snow," whispers Lemuel, pretty average testy, "where is my tea and toast? Did you tell that woman about my tea and toast? I'm hungry."
"I told her," says I. "If you ain't got it, you better tell her yourself."
"But I don't want to see the creature," he says.
"Neither do I; that is, I ain't partic'lar about it. And I couldn't hop down-stairs if I was. You'll have to do your own tellin'. I'm goin' to read a spell."
My readin' didn't amount to much. He went grumblin' back to his room, but I judge his longin' for tea and toast got the better of his dread for the "creature," 'cause pretty soon I heard him go down-stairs. Aunt Lucindy's singin' and dish-clatterin' stopped, and I heard consider'ble pow-wow goin' on. Cousin Lemuel's voice kept gettin' higher and shriller, but Aunt Lucindy's was just the same even cheerfulness all the time. Then the ex-insect man comes up the stairs again. I was curious, so I unlocked the door.
"How was the toast?" I asked. His usual pale face was bright red and he was a heap more energetic than I'd ever seen him.
"She—she—that woman's crazy!" he sputters. "She's insane; I told her so. I—"
"Hold on!" I interrupted. "Did you get the toast?"