all over again, 'but that was a stony farm!' An' the gophers!—Well, he says whatever the Recordin' Angel has got down he bets he's skipped some o' them gophers. He says the hairs on your head is a mere joy to reckon up, 'n' fallin' sparrows too, beside them gophers. He says savin' a cent in the time o' Egypt 'n' seein' what you 'd have now if you 'd only done it, is nothin' to the way them gophers on the Pearson farm was give to givin' in marriage. He says as it was a very stony farm, 'n' in between every two stones was one hole 'n' half a dozen gophers to a hole, in the single season. He says ploughin' was like churnin' with nothin' but stones 'n' gophers in the churn. He says they was that tame they'd run up your legs 'n' up the horses' legs; he said maybe I would n't believe it, 'n' I told him I certainly would n't, so then he went on to another subjeck.

"He says he used to plough through them gophers all day 'n' court Tilly all night. Tilly was old Mrs. Ely. He says she 'd never been courted on a'count of her nose, but he said he wanted a farm bad enough to be willin' to never forget to tip his face pretty well crossways. He says she was so happy bein' courted that at first it made the gophers just seem like nothin' a tall, 'n' he says as you can't maybe get the full sense o' that but it's there just the same. I tell you, Mrs. Lathrop, you can see that man has suffered. I asked him was he afraid of mice too, 'n' he bristled up pretty sharp 'n' said he wa'n't afraid of gophers, only they took you so unawares. I had to tell him right there to look out for the cistern lid, 'n' he hitched over by the table again 'n' then he said, Well, so it went all summer. He said he got so tired o' gophers, 'n' moonlight, 'n' hittin' her nose hard by accident, times when he was n't thinkin', as he was nothin' but glad when September come 'round. He says he 'd figgered all along on bein' married in September, 'n' he never for one moment mistrusted as he wouldn't be; but he says of all the awful things to count on, Tilly Pearson was the worst. Oh! my, he says, but she was cranky! 'n' then he rubbed his chin with his hand a long while 'n' then said 'cranky,' over again in a very hard tone. He says would you believe it that after all his love-makin' along the first o' September she begin to get terrible uppish 'n' throw her head aroun' 'n' put on airs 'n' he was just dumbfounded at her goin's on."

"What—" asked Mrs. Lathrop.

"Then he says one awful day when he was stackin' straw, Old Pearson told him flat 'n' plain as if he was n't goin' to marry Tilly, he need n't count on spendin' the winter as their company. Well, he says you can maybe realize what a shock that was. He says his nose was just smashed numb 'n' his sleep was full o' grabbin' at 'em in his dreams 'n' now it looked like all was for nothin' a tall. Still he says he scraped up a smile 'n' a cheerful look 'n' told Old Pearson as he was more 'n willin' to marry Tilly for his winter's board but it was Tilly as was makin' the trouble. He says Old Pearson looked sort of surprised at that, but he thought a little while 'n' then he told him as if he was smart he 'd find a way to bring Tilly to her senses, 'cause every woman had some way to be brought to her senses, 'n' then he went off 'n' left him to think.

"Well, Mrs. Lathrop, you can see without any tryin' that that man suffered. I pretty near stopped 'n' burnt jus' to listen to him. He says as he sit there plum beside hisself 'n' most cried from not knowin' what under Heaven's name to do. He says he was placed most awful with winter starin' him stark in the face 'n' no warm place to stay. He says nobody knows how it feels to feel like he was forced to feel,—'nless they've been expectin' to be married 'n' then been discharged themselves instead. He says he looked about most doleful 'n' wished he was dead or anythin' that's warm, 'n' then he got down from the stack 'n' set on a old wagon tongue 'n' jus' tried to figger on if there was n't no way as he could think up as would make Tilly have him. He says the bitter part was to reflect as he had to work to make Tilly have him, when it 'd really ought by all rights to have been the other way. He says to think o' that nose 'n' then him obliged to work 'n' slave to get hold of it!"

"I—" began Mrs. Lathrop.

"Well, he see it different," said Susan; "he says,—'n' I can't in reason see how any one as knows as little as you, Mrs. Lathrop, can deny him,—he says as no one as gets married easy at the end of courtin' can possibly figger on the difficulties of gettin' married hard. He says it was jus' beyond belief the way he felt as he set there reflectin' on his wasted summer 'n' Tilly flippin' aroun' all unconcerned over him leavin' in the end. He says his blood begun to slowly begin to boil as he set there thinkin', 'n' in the end he jus' up an' hit the wagon-tongue with his fist 'n' said 'By Jinks!' 'n' he says when he says 'By Jinks,' it is the end, 'n' don't you forget it.

"He says he 'd no sooner said 'By Jinks' than he thought of a plan, 'n' he says Lord forgive him if he ever thinks of such another plan. He says what put it into his head Heaven only knows, only o' course he never expected as it would work out as it did. He says he thought as she 'd see what he was up to 'n' stop him along half-way. But Oh, my, he says, you never can count on a woman, 'n' then he rubbed his chin with his hand for a long time 'n' said all over again 'never can count on a woman.'

"Well, he says after he'd thought o' the plan he went right to work to carry it out. He says it was one o' them plans as dilly-dally is death on. So he begun by makin' sure as she was pastin' labels on pickle-jars in the back wood-house 'n' then he went out by the shed 'n' got some old clothes-line as was hangin' there 'n' come round to where the bingin'-pole was 'n' whittled notches in it 'n' tied a piece o' the line hard aroun' the end. He says all the time he was tyin' he was countin' on her runnin' right out 'n' askin' him what under the sun he was doin',—but she never budged."

"What—" asked Mrs. Lathrop.

"Well, if you 'll keep still 'n' let me talk I 'll tell you," said Miss Clegg; "I had to keep still while he told me, 'n' the Bible 's authority for sayin' as what man has done woman can always do too if she has a mind to.—Well, he says then he bent the end of the pole around 'n' tied it hard to one of the uprights of the shed so it was sprung around in a terrible dangerous manner 'n' he says when he got it all tied, he looked up at the window 'n' why she did n't come out he can't to this day see. But she did n't—just stayed bobbin' around over her labels 'n' pastin'. Well, he says o' course he wa'n't in no hurry to go on to next part, so he dragged the grin'stone out in plain view of her 'n' begun 'n' sharpened a hatchet most awful sharp. He thought as the hatchet would bring her anyhow, but still she did n't come out,—jus' stuck to her stickin' there in the window. I can't well see why he looked for her to come out because my view would be as if you did n't want a man aroun', the more ropes an' hatchets he was inclined to the more I 'd let him tie 'n' sharpen, but old Mrs. Ely was always another parts o' speech from me. She never could eat her own chickens, they say, nor sausage her own pigs, 'n' I s'pose he knowed her tender spots aforehand 'n' was layin' for 'em. Anyhow, to go back to him 'n' the grin'stone, he says you can't under no circumstances keep on sharpenin' a hatchet forever, 'n' so after a while he had to go on to the next part. He says he was beginnin' to feel kind o' shaky, but he took more line 'n' made a slip-noose 'n' tied it hard 'n' fast to the pole. He says he looked up real bright 'n' hopeful then, but still she did n't come out, 'n' he says he slid it up over his arm two or three times so she could n't but see as it was a noose too. Oh, my, but he says he did begin to feel mad at her then,—he says it wa'n't in reason as any man 'd be pleased at a woman's smilin' out of a window at him