I guess Miss Susan knows something about
bridges."
"I guess I don't," said Susan--"only that they oughtn't to tumble
down when the frost comes."
"Ha, ha, ha; no more they ought. I'll tell McEvoy that." McEvoy
had been a former engineer on the line. "Well, that won't burst
with any frost, I guess."
"Oh my! how pretty!" said the widow, and then Susan of course jumped
up to look over her mother's shoulder.
The artful dodger! he had drawn and coloured a beautiful little
sketch of a bridge; not an engineer's plan with sections and
measurements, vexatious to a woman's eye, but a graceful little
bridge with a string of cars running under it. You could almost
hear the bell going.
"Well; that is a pretty bridge," said Susan. "Isn't it, Hetta?"
"I don't know anything about bridges," said Hetta, to whose clever
eyes the dodge was quite apparent. But in spite of her cleverness
Mrs. Bell and Susan had soon moved their chairs round to the table,
and were looking through the contents of Aaron's portfolio. "But
yet he may be a wolf," thought the poor widow, just as she was
kneeling down to say her prayers.
That evening certainly made a commencement. Though Hetta went on
pertinaciously with the body of a new dress, the other two ladies
did not put in another stitch that night.
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