Susan Clegg and Her Neighbors' Affairs

Excerpt

THE DEACON'S DILEMMA

Miss Clegg was getting her own favorite tea. This always consisted of itself, toast, and a slice of bacon; and she apparently took as much pleasure in the preparation of the meal as if it were not the ten thousandth of its kind which she had cooked and eaten. As she hustled and bustled here and there, her manner seemed even more sprightly than usual; and it was only occasionally, when her glance fell upon the light shining across from her friend's kitchen window opposite, that her cheerfulness knew any diminution. But there seemed to be some sad influence in the effect of the rays of Mrs. Lathrop's lamp on this particular night; and even if its effect on Susan was merely transitory, it was not the less marked each time that it occurred.

Once, just as she was carrying the tea-pot from the stove to the table, she voiced her thoughts aloud.

"I shall have to tell her to-night, so I may 's well make up my mind to it," she said firmly; and then, after drawing up a chair by making a hook out of one of her feet, she sat down and sought strength for the ordeal in a more than ordinarily hearty supper.

It was a bleak, cold night in early November, and the wind whistled drearily outside. There was a chill atmosphere everywhere, and a hint of coming winter.

"I shall wear my cap an' my cardigan jacket to go over there," the neighborly disposed Susan reflected as she carefully drank the last of the tea. "Dear, dear! but it's goin' to be a terrible shock to her, poor thing!"

Then she arose and carefully and scrupulously put the kitchen back into its customary order. Having removed the last trace of any one's ever having cooked or eaten there, she lighted a candle and sought her wraps in the icy upper regions of the house. As she passed the parlor door she shivered involuntarily.

"I expect he was cold," she murmured; "I know I was. But I could n't see my way to sittin' in the kitchen with a caller: I never was one to do nothin' improper, an' I was n't goin' to begin at my age."

Then she went upstairs and got out the cap and jacket. It was a man's cap, with ear-tabs, and not at all in keeping with the fair Susan's features; but she gave no heed to such matters and tied it on with two firm jerks.

"I jus' do hope," she ejaculated as she struggled into the cardigan, "'t she won't faint. It'll surely come very sudden on her, too, an' all my talk 's to the advantage o' stayin' unmarried, an' the times an' times I 've said as we was always goin' to stay jus' so—"

The termination of the jacket-buttoning terminated the soliloquy also. Miss Clegg went downstairs and warmed her hands at the kitchen stove, preparatory to locking up. Ten minutes later she was tapping at Mrs. Lathrop's door.

"I must n't tell her too quick," she reminded herself as she waited to be let in; "I must lead up to it like they do after a railroad smash. Mrs. Lathrop ain't what you call over-nervous; still, she has got feelin's, an' in a time like this they ought to be a little steered out for. If she saw him comin' in or goin' out, that 'll help some."

Mrs....