SUSAN CLEGG'S FULL DAY

"Well," said Miss Clegg, with strong emphasis, as she mounted Mrs. Lathrop's steps, "I don't know, I'm sure, what I've come over here for this night, for I never felt more like goin' right straight off to bed in all my life before." Then she sat down on the top step and sighed heavily.

"It's been a full day," she went on presently; "an' I can't deny as I was nothin' but glad to remember as Elijah was n't comin' home to supper, for as a consequence I sha'n't have it to get. A woman as has had a day like mine to-day don't want no supper anyhow, an' it stands to reason as if I don't feel lively in the first place, I ain't goin' to be made any more so by comin' to see you, for I will remark, Mrs. Lathrop, that seein' you always makes me wonder more'n ever why I come to see you so often when I might just as well stay home an' go to bed. If I was in my bed this blessed minute I'd be very comfortable, which I'm very far from bein' here with this mosquito aimin' just over my slap each time; an' then, too, I'd be alone, an' no matter how hard I may try to make myself look upon bein' with you as the same thing as bein' alone, it is n't the same thing an' you can't in conscience deny that, no matter how hard you may sit without movin'."

Mrs. Lathrop made no reply to this frank comment on her liveliness, and after a short pause, Miss Clegg sighed heavily a second time, and continued:

"It's been a full day, a awful full day. In the first place the rooster was woke by accident last night an' he up an' woke me. He must of woke me about three o'clock as near as I can figure it out now, but I supposed when I was woke as of course it was five so I got right up an' went in an' woke Elijah. Elijah told me last week as he did n't believe he'd ever seen the sun rise an' I was just enough out of sorts to think as to-day would be a good time for him to begin to turn over a new leaf as far as the sunrise was concerned. I must say he was n't very spry about the leaf, for all he did was to turn himself over at first, but I opened his window an' banged the blinds three or four times an' in the end he got woke up without really knowin' just what had woke him. We had breakfast with a candle, an' then Elijah was so tired lookin' out for the sunrise that he looked in at his watch an' see as it was only quarter to four then. He was real put out at that at first 'cause he wrote till half past two last night, an' in the end he went back to bed an' it certainly was a relief to see the last of him, for I may in confidence remark as I never see him look quite so stupid afore. After he was gone back to bed I washed up the breakfast dishes an' then I went out in the wood shed in the dark an' there I got another surprise, for I thought I'd look over the rags I was savin' for the next rag rug an' when I poured 'em out in my lap, what do you think, Mrs. Lathrop, what do you think poured out along with 'em?—Why, a nest of young mice an' two old ones!

"Well, Mrs. Lathrop, you can maybe imagine my feelin's at four in the mornin' with Elijah gone back to bed an' my own lap full of mice, but whatever I yelled did n't disturb him any an' I just made two jumps for the lamp in the kitchen, leavin' the mice wherever they hit to rearrange their family to suit themselves. Well, the second jump must needs land me right square on top of the cistern lid, an' it up an' went in, takin' my left leg along with it as far as it would go. Well, Mrs. Lathrop, talk of girls as can open an' shut, like scissors, in a circus—I was scissored to that degree that for a little I could n't think which would be wisest, to try an' get myself together again in the kitchen or to just give up altogether in the cistern. In the end I hauled the leg as had gone in out again, an' then I see where all the trouble come from, for the cistern lid was caught to my garter an' what I'd thought was a real injury was only it swingin' around an' around my leg. I put the lid back on the cistern an' felt to sit with my legs crossed for quite a while, thinkin' pleasant thoughts of the rooster as woke me, an' by that time it was half past four, an' I could hear all the other chickens stirrin' so I got up an' began to stir again myself. I opened the front door an' looked out an' that did n't bring me no good luck either, for as I looked out a bat flew in an' just as the bat flew in he managed to hook himself right in my hair. Well, Mrs. Lathrop, I tell you I was mad then. I don't know as I ever was madder than I was then. I was so mad that I can't tell you how mad I was. The bat held on by diggin' in like he thought I wanted to get him off, an' I pulled at him so hard that I can't in conscience be surprised much over his takin' that view of it. Well, in the end I had to take all my hairpins out first an' then sort of skin him out of my hair lengthways, which, whatever you may think about it, Mrs. Lathrop, is far from bein' funny along afore dawn on a day as you 've begun at three thinkin' as it was five."

"Susan!" ejaculated Mrs. Lathrop; "don't—"

"No, I'll have some when I get home. I like mine better than yours anyway. Now you've made me forget where I was in my story."

"You—" said Mrs. Lathrop.

"Oh yes, I remember now. Well, I was too put out at first to notice what the bat did after I got him out o' my head, but when I went upstairs I found him circlin' everywhere in a way as took every bit of home feelin' out of the house an' I just saw that I'd have no peace till I could be alone with Elijah again. So I got up an' got a broom an' went a battin' for all I was worth. Well, Mrs. Lathrop, you can believe me or not just as you please, but for one solid hour I run freely an' gayly up an' down an' over an' under my own house after that bat. I never see nothin' like that bat before or behind. He just sort of sailed here an' there an' everywhere, an' wherever he sailed smoothly an' easily there was me runnin' after him with the broom, whackin' at him every chance I got. We was upstairs, we was downstairs, we was in the wood shed an' out of the wood shed, we was under the kitchen table, we was over father's picture on the mantel—we was everywhere, me an' that bat. Then all of a sudden he disappeared completely an' I sit down in the rockin'-chair to puff an' rest. Elijah slept till most eight an' I was so tired I let him sleep although I never was one to approve of any man's sleepin', but before he woke something worse than a bat come down on me, an' that was Mrs. Sweet's cousin, Jerusha Dodd. You know Jerusha Dodd, Mrs. Lathrop, an' so do I, an' so does everybody an' as far as my observation 's extended bats is wise men bringin' their gifts from afar to visit you compared to Jerusha Dodd when she arrives in the early mornin'. I would n't never have gone to the door only she stepped up on the drain-pipe first an' looked in an' saw me there in the rockin'-chair afore she knocked. I tell you I was good an' mad when I see her an' see as she see me an' I made no bones of it when I opened the door. I says to her frank an' open—I says, 'Good gracious, Jerusha, I hope you ain't lookin' to see me pleased at seein' as it's you.' But laws, you could n't smash Jerusha Dodd not if you was a elephant an' she was his sat-down-upon fly, so I had her sittin' in the kitchen an' sighin' in less'n no time. She was full of her woes an' the country's woes as usual. Congress was goin' to ruin us next year sure, an' she had a hole in her back fence anyway; she did n't approve of Mr. Rockefeller's prices on oil, an' there was a skunk in her cellar, an' she said she could n't seem to learn to enjoy livin' the simple life as she'd had to live it since her father died, a tall. She said that accordin' to her views life for single women nowadays was too simple an' she said she really only lacked bein' buried to be dead. She says as all a simple life is, is havin' no rights except them as your neighbors don't want. She says for her part she's been more took into the heart of creation than she's ever cared about. I do hate to have to listen to the way she goes on an' no one can say as I ever was one to encourage her in them views. I don't think it's right to encourage no one in their own views 'cause their views is never mine an' mine is always the right ones. This mornin' I stood it as long as I could from Jerusha an' then I just let out at her an' I says to her, I says, 'Jerusha Dodd, you really are a fool an' Heaven help them as ever makes more of a fool of you, by tellin' you as you ain't.' You know Jerusha Dodd, Mrs. Lathrop; she began to cry hard an' rock harder right off, said she knowed she was a fool, but it was nature's fault an' not hers for she was born so an' could n't seem to get the better of it. I told her my view of the matter would be for her to stay home an' patch up that hole in her fence an' pull up some o' that choice garden full of weeds as she's growin', an' brush the dust off the crown of her bonnet, an' do a few other of them wholesome little trifles as is a good deal nearer the most of us than Mr. Rockefeller an' what congress in its infinite wisdom is goin' to see fit to deal out in the daily papers next year.

"But she only kept on cryin' an' rockin' an' finally I got so tired listenin' to her creak an' sob that I went out an' had a real bright idea. I got the little sink scratcher an' tied a wet piece of rag to the handle an' went around behind her an' hung it suddenly in her back hair. She put up her hand an' felt it, an' give a yell that woke Elijah. You know how Jerusha Dodd acts when she's upset! She spun around so the sink scratcher fell right out but she did n't have sense enough left in her to know it. She yelled, 'What was it? what was it?' an' I yelled, 'It was a bat, it was a bat;' an' at that I see the last of Jerusha Dodd, for she was out of my kitchen an' out of my sight afore Elijah could get to the top of the stairs to begin yellin', 'What was it? what was it?' on his own hook. I had to tell him all about it then an' he wanted it for a item right off. He said he'd have a dash for Jerusha an' a star for me, an' the idea took him like most of his ideas do, an' he laughed till he coughed the coffee as I'd saved for him all the wrong way, an' dropped a soft boiled egg as I'd boiled for him into the water pitcher, an', oh my, I thought misfortunes never would come to a end or even to a turnin'. But after he'd fished out the egg an' eat it, he went off down to his uncle's an' he was n't more'n gone when in come Mrs. Sweet to see if Jerusha left her breastpin, 'cause in her quick breathin' it had fallen somewhere an' Jerusha was havin' hysterics over losin' that now. While I was talkin' to Mrs. Sweet at the gate I smelt somethin' burnin' an' there my whole bakin' of bread was burnt up in the oven owin' to Jerusha Dodd's breathin' her breastpin out over a bat. I felt to be some tempered then, an' Mrs. Sweet saw it an' turned around an' left me, an' after she was gone I went into the house an' pulled down the shades an' locked the door an' went to sleep. I slept till Elijah come home to dinner an' of course there was n't no dinner ready an' that put Elijah out. Elijah's got a good deal of a temper, I find, an' the only thing in the world to do with a man in a temper, when he is in a temper, is to make him so mad that he goes right off in a huff an' leaves you to peace again. So I just made one or two remarks about my opinion of things as he feels very strong about, an' he said he guessed he'd get supper down town an' sleep at the store to-night. So he took himself off an' he was hardly out of the way when Mrs. Macy come to tell me about Judy Lupey's divorce."

"Is—" cried Mrs. Lathrop.

"Not yet, but she soon will be," said Miss Clegg. "Mrs. Macy's just back from Meadville an' she says all Meadville is churned up over it. They ain't never had a divorce there afore, an' every one is so interested to know just how to do it, an' I will say this much for Mrs. Macy, an' that is that she was nothin' but glad to tell me all about it. Seems as the Lupeys is most awful upset over it though an' Mrs. Kitts says she ain't sure as she won't change her will sooner than leave money to a woman with two husbands."

"Two—" cried Mrs. Lathrop.

"Mrs. Macy says," continued Susan, "as Mrs. Lupey ain't much better pleased than Mrs. Kitts over it all, an', although she did n't say it in so many words, she hinted pretty plain as it seemed hard as the only one of the girls to get married should be the same one as is gettin' divorced. Mrs. Macy said she see her point of view, but to her order of thinkin' the world don't begin to be where old maids need consider divorces yet awhile. She says she stayed in the house with 'em all three days an' she says she cheered Mrs. Lupey all she could; she says she told her to her best ear as no one but a mother would ever have dreamed of dreamin' of Faith or Maria's ever marryin' under any circumstances. She said Mrs. Lupey said it was the quickness of Judy's gettin' tired of Mr. Drake as had frightened her most. Why, she says as before the first baby was through teethin' in her day, Judy was all up an' through an' completely done with Mr. Drake. All done with him an' home again, an' the family not even countin' to consider.

"Mrs. Macy says as she's learned a awful lot about divorce as she did n't know before. She said she could n't help being surprised over how much a divorce is like a marriage, for Busby Bell was there every night an' Judy an' the whole family is hard at work gettin' her clothes ready. But Mrs. Macy says them as suppose the real gettin' of the divorce itself is simple had ought to go an' stay at the Lupeys awhile. Why, she says the way the Lupeys is complicated an' tied up by Judy an' Mr. Drake is somethin' beyond all belief. To begin with, Judy decided to be deserted because she thought it'd really be the simplest an' easiest in the end an' she hated to bother with bein' black an' blue for witnesses an' all that kind of business. But it seems being deserted, when you live in the same town with a husband who rides a bicycle an' don't care where he meets you, is just enough to drive a woman nigh to madness itself. Why, Mrs. Macy says that Judy Lupey actually can't go out to walk a tall, not 'nless Faith walk a block ahead of her an' Maria a block behind, an' even then Mr. Drake's liable to come coastin' down on 'em any minute. She says it's awful tryin', an' Judy gets so mad over it all that it just seems as if they could not stand it.

"But that ain't the only trouble neither, Mrs. Macy says. Seems Judy got Solomon Drake for her lawyer 'cause he knowed the whole story, through eatin' dinner at the Drakes every Sunday while they was stayin' married. She thought havin' Solomon Drake would save such a lot of explainin' 'cause Mr. Drake is so hard to explain to any one as has just seen him ridin' his bicycle an' not really been his wife. Well, seems as Judy never calculated on Solomon's keepin' right on takin' Sunday dinner with Mr. Drake, after he became her lawyer, but he does, an' none of the Lupeys think it looks well, an' Judy finds it most tryin' because all she an' Solomon talk over about the divorce he tells Mr. Drake on Sunday out of gratitude for his dinner an' because it's a subject as seems to really interest Mr. Drake. Seems Mr. Drake is a hard man to interest. Judy says he was yawnin' afore they got to the station on their honeymoon.

"But Mrs. Macy says that ain't all, neither, whatever you may think, for she says what do you think of Mr. Drake's goin' an' gettin' Busby Bell of all the men in Meadville for his lawyer, when the whole town knows as it's Busby as Judy's goin' to marry next. Mrs. Lupey says as Judy would have took Busby for her own lawyer only they was so afraid of hurtin' each other's reputations, an' now really it's terrible, 'cause Busby says as he don't well see what's to be done about their reputations if the worst comes to the worst, for he's explained as very likely Judy's goin' to need one more man than a husband to get her her divorce. Mrs. Macy says Mrs. Lupey says as Busby said as if he had n't been Mr. Drake's lawyer he'd have been more than ready to be the other man, but as Mr. Drake's lawyer he can't help Judy no more'n if he was Mr. Drake himself. Mrs. Macy says Mrs. Lupey cried, an' she told her as she knowed as there was any number of quiet elderly men as any one could depend on right here in our own community as'd be nothin' but glad to go over to Meadville an' help anyway they could, but Mrs. Lupey asked Judy about it, an' Judy asked Busby, an' Busby said men as you could depend on anywhere was n't no use in divorce suits a tall. It's quite another kind, it seems. Mrs. Macy says she's really very sorry for them all, for it really seems awful to think how the Lupeys need a man an' the only man they've got Judy's busy gettin' rid of as hard as she can.

"Mrs. Macy says it's all most upsettin'. She says she never lived through nothin' like it afore. Judy's cross 'cause she can't go out an' meet Busby without runnin' the risk of meetin' Mr. Drake an' losin' all the time she's put in so far bein' deserted. An' then there's a many things as a outsider never would know about or even guess at unless they've lived right in the house with a real live divorce. Mrs. Macy says as Martha Hack, as does the washin' for 'em all, is forever forgettin' an' sendin' Judy's wash home with Mr. Drake's just as if they was still completely married. That would n't be so bad only Mr. Drake waits for Solomon to get 'em Sunday, an' Solomon's kind-hearted an' gives 'em to Busby so as to give him a excuse to make two calls in one day. Well, Mrs. Macy says the come out of it all is as when Judy wants to take a bath just about all Meadville has to turn out to see where under heaven her clean clothes is.

"I tell you, Mrs. Lathrop, tellin' it all to you does n't matter so much, but to hear Mrs. Macy tell it makes you wonder if it's worth while to try an' leave a man as you can't live with. Seems to me it'd be easier to live with him. Mrs. Macy says as she met Mr. Drake several times herself on his bicycle an' he looked most bloomin'. No one need be sorry for him, an' not many is sorry for Judy. But Mrs. Macy says there's only one person as all Meadville's sorry for, an' that's Busby Bell."

Mrs. Lathrop started to speak.

"Yes," Susan went on hurriedly. "Elijah said just that same thing the other day when he was talkin' about the Marlboroughs. He thinks as divorces is all a mistake, but then you're a widow an' Elijah ain't married so you're both pretty safe in airin' your views."

Susan rose just here and descended the steps. "I must go," she said, "I don't seem to take no particular interest in what you might be goin' to tell me, Mrs. Lathrop, even if there was any chance of your ever gettin' around to tellin' it, an' I've told you all I know, an' I'm very tired talkin'. As I said before, it's been a full day an' I'm pretty well beat out. I forgot to tell you as after Mrs. Macy was gone I found as it was n't the bread I smelt in the oven—it was the bat. I suppose when I see Mr. Kimball he'll make one of his jokes over bread-dough an' bats an' batter, but I'll be too wore out to care. Did I say as Elijah said he'd sleep at the store to-night?"

"Will—" cried Mrs. Lathrop, all of a sudden.

"Why, of course," said Susan, "it did n't hurt either loaf a mite. I'd be as much of a fool as Jerusha Dodd if I let a little thing like a bat spoil a whole bakin' of bread for me, Mrs. Lathrop. As for Elijah, he did n't know nothin' about it an' I sha'n't tell him, you may be sure, for he's the one as eats all the bread—I never touch it myself, as you well know."