n Barrows. Not Mrs. Susan
Barrows, Sr., because of course some years before that old lady had been
translated to that country where we hope all human curiosity may be
satisfied, but her daughter, Susan Jr.; a little prying, spiteful girl
she would always remain to Ambrose, although now a married woman past
middle age, with grown-up children of her own.

And among her other inheritances she claimed an interfering interest in
the old man's mode of life.

Now a set of signals having been arranged between them in case of urgent
need on his part, at about six o'clock the next morning Susan was
aroused by a violent knocking on his wall on the side of the house next
hers, and hurrying over she found the old man lying half dressed on his
bed and groaning with pain.

"Seems like I can't turn over or move or draw long breath, Susan Jr.,"
he gasped. "'Course I know I got my feet wet; 'tain't no use of you
startin' in on that. I've got the lumbago, but bein's as I feel I mayn't
be able to git up fer a right smart spell you'd better step next door
and tell that old maid 'Lizabeth to come over here and look after me.
She ain't no kith and kin to keep her busy like you."

Susan eyed her old neighbour narrowly; she never had and never would be
able wholly to trust him, but now his fine old wrinkled face seemed to
be twisting with pain and his nose and lips twitching.

"'Lizabeth can't come, you know it well as I do, Ambrose Thompson," she
replied. "I've just got to do the best fer you I kin, though it ain't
noways convenient to me. This comes from you tryin' to live alone
'cause Aunt Ca'line and the others who used to see to you is passed.
'Lizabeth Horton is movin' within a few hours, bein' turned out of her
house, bag and baggage," and there was such richness of superiority in
Susan Jr.'s voice, the kind of superiority which the prosperous always
feel in the presence of the unprosperous, that the old man longed to
shake her.

But instead he only remarked with suspicious meekness: "'Lizabeth's
furniture is bein' moved, Susan Jr., but not necessar'ly 'Lizabeth;
leastways I don't believe she is engaged to go off in the movin' van
settin' on top her best dresser like a hen, though it's what a lot of
women would like, they're so bound up in things mortal." And then Uncle
Ambrose fixing his gaze on a far spot in the ceiling shivered and
groaned until his audience hurried away, when he was able to relax into
greater comfort.

Thus