t her radiant countenance sufficed.
"You found a baby!"
Susan upraised supremely joyful eyes.
"No," she replied, "but I've bought the weepin' lion!"
Mrs. Lathrop sat suddenly down.
"You never saw anythin' so grand in all your life! He rubbed the
'Blank' off with a wet cloth 'n' wrote in the 'Henry' with me standin'
right there. I never see anythin' that went right through me that way
before. Puttin' on 'Henry' seemed to bring the lion right into the
family, an'--well, you can believe me or not jus' as you please, Mrs.
Lathrop, but I up 'n' begin to cry right then 'n' there. The monument
man made me sit down on a uncut block 'n' lean my back up against a
No-Cross-no-Crown, 'n' while I sat there he chalked in father's birth
'n' death 'n' 'Erected by his devoted daughter Susan,' 'n' at that I
stood right up 'n' said 't I 'd take it, 'n' it wasn't no hasty
decision, neither, f'r after I 'd made up my mind I couldn't see no
good reason for continuin' to sit there 'n' draw frost out o' granite
'n' into my shoulder-blades jus' for the looks o' the thing."
"But about the ba--" said Mrs. Lathrop.
"Oh, the baby 'll have to go. I told you all along 't it had to be one
or t' other an' in the end it's the lion as has come out on top. I
guess I was n't cut out to be a mother like I was a daughter. I know
't I never wanted a baby for myself half like I 've wanted that lion
for my dead 'n' gone father. Do you know, Mrs. Lathrop, I do believe
't I had a persentiment the first time I ever see that lion. Suthin'
sort o' crep' right up my back, 'n' I 'm jus' sure 't folks 'll come
from miles roun' to see it. I guess it's the Finger o' Fate. When you
come to think o' it, it 's all for the best jus' the way 't it 's come
out. The baby 'd 'a' grown up an' gone off somewhere, an' the lion 'll
stay right where you put him, for he 's so heavy that the monument man
says we 'll have to drive piles all down aroun' father. Then, too,
maybe I could n't 'a' managed a boy an' I can scour that lion all I
want to. 'N' I will scour him too,--nobody need n't suppose 't I've
paid three hunderd dollars f'r anythin' to let it get mossy. I've
invited the monument man 'n' his wife to come 'n' visit me while he's
gettin' the lion in place, 'n' he says he's so pleased over me 'n'
nobody else gettin' it 't he's goin' to give me a paper sayin' 't when
I die he'll chop my date in f'r nothin'. I tell you what, Mrs.
Lathrop, I certainly am glad 't I've
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