Susan Clegg and Her Love Affairs

Mrs. Lathrop, who had been standing all the while, dropped into a chair at this point in dumb stupefaction. But Susan, who had been caught with a bowl of batter in one hand and a spoon in the other, paused only to do a little more stirring.

"Yes, sir," she went on, still apparently as pleased as punch. "The clue belonged to Mr. Kettlewell and no one else, which led me to suspect right away that the burglar must have robbed your house first. I knowed very well that I never carried that clue home myself, though I'd said I might, just for the sake of drawing Mr. Kettlewell on. And so how could it have got into my mouth unless the burglar got it from Mr. Kettlewell himself? But there is stranger things in this world than you and me ever dreamed of, Mrs. Lathrop, and that was one of 'em. Mr. Kettlewell is a very frank and open gentleman, and seeing how disturbed I was over something, though I'd never so much as breathed burglar or burglary, he made another confession. And when it comes to dreaming, there is very few people, he said, as has the power to dream the way he does. He don't just lie still in bed and picture things out in his sleep, but he gets up and does the things he's dreaming about. He ain't got no limitations in it, either. Sleepwalkers is more or less common. But sleepwalkers just walk, and that ends 'em. Mr. Kettlewell says he very seldom walks. He usually drives a automobile when he's dreaming, just as he does when he's wide awake. Sometimes he comes to while he's driving, and he's found himself often as much as a couple a hundred miles from home, and without a cent in his clothes, the clothes usually being just pajamas with nothing but a handkerchief in the pocket. Now, if you had any imagination a tall, Mrs. Lathrop, you'd see what I'm coming to, but as you haven't you don't, I can tell by the way you look. So you'll get the full benefit of the surprise when I say that on Christmas night Mr. Kettlewell distinctly remembers he dreamed of committing a burglary. He says it wasn't my mince pie as did it, because he's often eaten mince pie before and never dreamed nothing worse than going to the electric chair; and it wasn't my stuffing neither, for turkey stuffing when it's indigestible always makes him dream he's a monkey climbing trees. He says once he woke up sudden and fell and broke his arm, but that that was a long while ago. Now he's had more experience, he never wakes up till he's safe back in bed again. And he says doughnuts causes his dreams to run back to when he was a boy, and one time he come to, after a after-dinner nap, when he had doughnuts for dessert, playing marbles in the back alley with a lot of street urchins. I can tell you, Mrs. Lathrop, he was most interesting. He's got all his dreams sort of classified in that way, and can almost tell to a dot what he'll dream about according to what he eats. And he says soggy biscuits always makes him dream he's robbing a house or killing somebody. It was mighty lucky for me, as you can see for yourself, that this time he only dreamed of binding and gagging. If he'd dreamed of murder, I'd not be here now to tell the tale. And it's clean to be seen that your biscuits would of been an accessory before the fact."

"Then he – "

"Yes, it was him as done it, and without no moral blame attaching to him a tall. If he'd killed me, the law couldn't of touched him either, for the law takes no account of what a person does while they're asleep. But as you made the biscuits in your full senses and with your eyes wide open, you'd of been the only one to blame."

Mrs. Lathrop groaned. "You know, Sus – " she protested.

"Of course if I was alive, I'd never hold it against you, because I know very well you can't make biscuits no better, and ain't never had sense enough to learn. But if I was murdered, my ghost couldn't testify, and I don't see as how you could be saved from the law taking its course."

At this juncture there was a sound overhead, and both ladies started, Mrs. Lathrop in surprise and her friend in sudden realization of neglected duties.

"What is – ?" inquired Mrs. Lathrop.

"It's him," answered Susan. "Mr. Kettlewell. And the coffee's boiled now till it's bitter, and there ain't a single cake on the griddle." She was turning back to the stove as Mrs. Lathrop's exclamation caught her and switched her around.

"Why, Susan Clegg!"

"Don't Susan Clegg me, Mrs. Lathrop," she commanded. "There ain't no Susan Clegg any more. When Susan Clegg disappeared a week ago last night, she disappeared for good, never to return. And if you suspect anything else, it's best I should introduce myself here and now, – Susan Kettlewell, from this time forth, if you please."

Mrs. Lathrop sprang up and dropped back again.

"You don't – "

"I do. I do mean to say I'm married at last. We was wedded with a ring in New York last Wednesday, and it's my husband's footsteps you hear up there in the new bathroom."

She dropped three spreading spoonfuls of batter on the greased griddle and gave Mrs. Lathrop a full minute to absorb the announcement. Then, as she drew the coffee pot to one side, she continued:

"And it was purely a love match, make no mistake about that. He's got money enough to buy and sell Jathrop, but he's as simple-minded and simple-tasted as a babe in arms. And there's nothing I can think of that he's not ready and willing to give me. Besides, he's frank and open about everything. He says his teeth is false, and he has a bullet in his right leg, got one time when he dreamed somebody was shooting him; but that otherwise he's as perfect as a man of his age can be. He says he'll buy a wig if I want him to, and that if I don't like the color of his whiskers, he'll have 'em dyed whatever color I'd like best, and the wig'l be made to match. But I wouldn't have him changed the least mite. And if there's one thing in the world I'm thankful for it is that I got him and not Jathrop. And I'm not thinking from the financial standpoint, neither."

THE END