t?" inquired Mr. Tidditt.

"I don't know. I guess so--on the installment plan. It takes her a week
to scrub up the kitchen, and then one end of it is so dirty she has to
begin again. Consequently the dust is so thick in the rest of the house
that I can see my tracks. If 'twan't so late in the season I'd plant
garden stuff in the parlor--nice soil and lots of shade, with the
curtains down."

From the rooms in the rear came the words of a gospel hymn sung in a
tremulous soprano and at concert pitch.

"Music with my meals, just like a high-toned restaurant," commented
Captain Cy.

"But what makes her sing so everlastin' LOUD?"

"Can't hear herself if she don't. I could stand her deefness, because
that's an affliction and we may all come to it; but--"

The housekeeper, still singing, entered the room and planted herself in
a chair.

"Good evenin', Mr. Tidditt," she said, smiling genially. "Nice weather
we've been havin'."

Asaph nodded.

"Sociable critter, ain't she!" observed the captain. "Always willin' to
help entertain. Comes and sets up with me till bedtime. Tells about
her family troubles. Preaches about her niece out West, and how set the
niece and the rest of the Western relations are to have her make 'em a
visit. I told her she better go--I thought 'twould do her good. I know
'twould help ME consider'ble to see her start.

"She's got so now she finds fault with my neckties," he added, "says I
must be careful and not get my feet wet. Picks out what I ought to wear
so's I won't get cold. She'll adopt me pretty soon. Oh, it's all right!
She can't hear what you say. Are your dishes done?" he shrieked, turning
to the old lady.

"One? One what?" inquired Mrs. Beasley.

"They won't BE done till you go, Ase," continued the master of the
house. "She'll stay with us till the last gun fires. T'other day
Angie Phinney called and I turned Debby loose on her. I didn't believe
anything could wear out Angie's talkin' machinery, but she did it.
Angeline stayed twenty minutes and then quit, hoarse as a crow."

Here the widow joined in the conversation, evidently under the
impression that nothing had been said since she last spoke. Continuing
her favorable comments on the weather she observed that she was glad
there was so little fog, because fog was hard for folks with "neuralgy
pains." Her brother's wife's cousin had "neuralgy" for years, and
she described his sufferings with enthusiasm and infinite detail. Mr.
Ti