believed possible, secure of sympathy and approbation, with Angy's
glowing old eyes upon her prodigy, that all the while he had been at the
Home, he had never before felt the power to express his gratitude for
the welcome which had been accorded him--the welcome which seemed to
wear and wear, as if it were all wool and a yard wide, and could never
wear out.
The old ladies nodded their heads in approval of this, every face
beaming; but as the speech went on the others perceived that Abe had
singled out Blossy for special mention,--blind, blind Abraham!--Blossy,
who had first proposed admitting him into this paradise; Blossy, who had
given up her sunny south chamber to his comfort and Angy's; Blossy, who
had been as a "guardeen angel" to him; Blossy, who as a fitting climax
to all her sisterly attentions had given him to-day this wonderful,
wonderful pink tea, and "this five hull pound o' Virginny terbaccer."
He held the parcel close to his bosom, and went on, still praising
Blossy,--this innocent old gentleman,--heedless of Angy's gentle tug at
his coat-tail; while Blossy buried her absurdly lovely old face in the
pink flush of a wild-rose spray, and the other old ladies stared from
him to her, their faces growing hard and cold.
When Abraham sat down, aglow with pride over his oratorical triumphs,
his chest expanded, his countenance wrinkled into a thousand guileless,
grateful smiles, there was absolute silence.
Then Blossy, her head still bowed as if in shy confusion, began to clap
her hands daintily together, whereat a few of the others joined her
half-heartedly. A sense of chill crept over Abraham. Accustomed as a
rule to deferential attention, did he but say good-morning, by no means
aware that his throne had toppled during the winter, he was still
forced to perceive that something had gone amiss.
As always when aught troubled his mind, "Father" turned to Angy; but
instead of his composed and resourceful little wife he found a
scared-faced and trembling woman. Angy had suddenly become conscious of
the shadow of the green-eyed monster. Angy's loyal heart was crying out
to her mate: "Don't git the sisters daown on yer, Abe, 'cuz then, mebbe,
yew'll lose yer hum!" But poor Angeline's lips were so stiff with terror
over the prospect of the County House for her husband, that she could
not persuade them to speech.
Abraham, completely at sea, turned next to her whom he had called his
guardian angel; but Blossy was rising from her seat, a baffling smile
of expectancy on her face, the rose spray swinging in her delicate hand
as if to the measure of some music too far back in youth for any one
else to hear. Blossy had worn that expectant look all day. She might
have been delightedly hugging to herself a secret which she had not
shared even with the trusted Abraham. She was gowned in her yellow lace,
the beauty and grace of which had defied the changing fashions as
Blossy's remarkable elegance of appearance had defied the passing of the
years.
"Brother Abe,"--in her heedlessness of the mischief she had wrought,
Blossy seemed almost to sing,--"I never shall forget your speech as long
as I live. Will you excuse me now?"
She swept out of the door, her skirts rustling behind her.
Abe collected himself so far as to bow in the direction she had taken;
then with lamblike eyes of inquiry met the exasperated glances cast upon
him.
Not a sister moved or spoke. They all sat as if glued to their chairs,
in a silence that was fast growing appalling.
Abe turned his head and looked behind his chair for an explanation; but
nothing met his eye, save the familiar picture on the wall of two white
kittens playing in the midst of a huge bunch of purple lilacs.
Then there broke upon the stillness the quavering old voice of Aunt
Nancy, from her place opposite Abe's at the head of the board. The aged
dame had her two hands clasped before her on the edge of the table,
vainly trying to steady their palsied shaking. Her eyes, bright,
piercing, age-defying, she fixed upon the bewildered Abraham with a look
of deep and sorrowful reproach. Her unsteady head bobbed backward and
forward with many an accusing nod, and the cap with its rakish pink bow
bobbed backward and forward too. Abe watched her, fascinated,
unconsciously wondering, even in the midst of his disquietude, why the
cap did not slide off her bald scalp entirely. To his amazement, she
addressed not himself, but Angy.
"Sister Rose, yew kin leave the room." Implacable purpose spoke in Aunt
Nancy's tone. Angy started, looked up, going first red and then white;
but she did not move. She opened her lips to speak.
"I don't want ter hear a word from yew, nor anybody else," sternly
interposed Aunt Nancy. "I'm old enough ter be yer mother. Go up-stairs!"
Angy's glance sought Miss Abigail, but the matron's eyes avoided hers.
The little wife sighed, rose reluctantly, dropped her hand doubtfully
reassuring on Abe's shoulder, and then went obediently to the door.
From the threshold she looked wistfully back; but an imperious wave from
Aunt Nancy banished her altogether, and Abe found himself alone--not
with the sisters whom he loved, but with twenty-eight hard-visaged
strangers.
IX
A WINTER BUTTERFLY
"Cap'n Rose," began Aunt Nancy. Brother Abe pricked up his eats at the
formal address. "Cap'n Rose," she repeated, deliberately dwelling on the
title. "I never believe in callin' a man tew account in front of his
wife. It gives him somebody handy ter blame things on tew jest like ole
Adam. Naow, look a-here! What I want is ter ask yew jest one question:
Whar, whar on 'arth kin we look fer a decent behavin' ole man ef not in
a Old Ladies' Hum? Would yew--" she exhorted earnestly, pointing her
crooked forefinger at him. "Would yew--"
Abraham caught his breath. Beads of sweat had appeared on his brow. He
broke in huskily:
"Wait a minute, Aunt Nancy. Jest tell me what I've been an' done."
The ladies glanced at one another, contemptuous, incredulous smiles on
their faces, while Aunt Nancy almost wept at his deceitfulness.
"Cap'n Rose," she vowed mournfully, "I've lived in this house fer many,
many years, an' all the while I been here I never hearn tell o' a breath
o' scandal ag'in' the place until yew come an' commenced ter kick up yer
heels."
Lazy Daisy, who had long been an inmate, also nodded her unwieldy head
in confirmation, while a low murmur of assent arose from the others.
Abraham could only pass his hand over his brow, uneasily shuffle his
maligned heels over the floor and await further developments; for he did
not have the slightest conception as to "what they were driving at."
"Cap'n Rose," the matriarch proceeded, as in the earnestness of her
indignation she arose, trembling, in her seat and stood with her palsied
and shaking hands on the board, "Cap'n Rose, yer conduct with this here
Mis' Betsey Ann Blossom has been somethin' _ree_diculous! It's been
disgraceful!"
Aunt Nancy sat down, incongruously disreputable in appearance, her pink
bow having slipped down over her right ear during the harangue. Over
the culprit's countenance light had dawned, but, shame to tell! it was a
light not wholly remorseful. Then silent laughter shook the old man's
shoulders, and then--could it be?--there crept about his lips and eyes a
smile of superbly masculine conceit. The sisters were fighting over him.
Wouldn't Mother be amused when he should tell her what all this fuss was
about.
Now, kindly, short-sighted Miss Abigail determined that it was time for
the matron's voice to be heard.
"Of course, Brother Abe, we understand perfectly that yew never stopped
ter take inter consideration haow susceptible some folks is made."
There being plain evidence from Abe's blank expression that he did not
understand the meaning of the word, Ruby Lee hastened to explain.
"Susceptible is the same as flighty-headed. Blossy allers was a fool
over anything that wore breeches."
Abe pushed his chair back from the table and crossed his legs
comfortably. For him all the chill had gone out of the air. Suppose that
there was something in this? An old, old devil of vanity came back to
the aged husband's heart. He recalled that he had been somewhat of a
beau before he learned the joy of loving Angy. More than one Long Island
lassie had thrown herself at his head. Of course Blossy would "get over"
this; and Angy knew that his heart was hers as much as it had been the
day he purchased his wedding-beaver; but Abe could not refrain from a
chuckle of complacent amusement as he stroked his beard.
His very evident hardness of heart so horrified the old ladies that they
all began to attack him at once.
"Seems ter me I'd have the decency ter show some shame!" grimly avowed
Sarah Jane.
Abe could not help it. He sputtered. Even Miss Abigail's, "Yew were a
stranger an' we took yew in" did not sober him.
"Ef any one o' my husbands had acted the way you've acted, Abe Rose,"
began Mrs. Homan.
"Poor leetle Angy," broke in the gentle Miss Ellie pityingly. "She must
'a' lost six pounds."
Abraham's mobile face clouded over.
"Angy?" he faltered. "Yew don't mean that Angy--" Silence again fell on
the group, while every glance was fastened on Abraham. "See here," he
flashed his faded blue eye, "Angy's got more sense than that!"
No one answered, but there was a significant shrugging of shoulders and
lifting of eyebrows. Abraham was distressed and concerned enough now.
Rising from his place he besought the sisters:
"Yew don't think Angy's feelin's have been hurt--dew yew, gals?"
Their faces softened, their figures relaxed, the tide of feeling changed
in Abraham's favor. Miss Ellie spoke very softly:
"Yew know that even 'the Lord thy God is a jealous God.'"
Abraham grasped the back of his chair for support, his figure growing
limp with astonishment. "Mother, jealous of me?" he whispered to
himself, the memory of all the years and all the great happenings of all
the years coming back to him. "Mother jealous of me?" He remembered how
he had once been tormented by jealousy in the long, the ever-so-long
ago, and of a sudden he hastened into the hall and went half-running up
the stairs. He took hold of the latch of his bedroom door. It did not
open. The door was locked.
"Angy!" he called, a fear of he knew not what gripping at his heart.
"Angy!" he repeated as she did not answer.
The little old wife had locked herself in out of very shame of the rare
tears which had been brought to the surface by the sisters' cruel
treatment of Abraham. When she heard his call she hastened to the blue
wash-basin and began hurriedly to dab her eyes. He would be alarmed if
he saw the traces of her weeping. Whatever had happened to him, for his
sake she must face it valiantly. He called again. Again she did not
answer, knowing that her voice would be full of the telltale tears. Abe
waited. He heard the tramp of feet passing out of the dining-room into
the hall. He heard Blossy emerge from her room at the end of the passage
and go tripping down the stairs. The time to Angy, guiltily bathing her
face, was short; the time to her anxious husband unaccountably long.
The sound of wheels driving up to the front door came to Abe's ears.
Still Angy made him no response.
"Angy!" he raised his voice in piteous pleading. What mattered if the
sisters gathered in the lower hall heard him? What mattered if the
chance guest who had just arrived heard him also? He had his peace to
make with his wife and he would make it. "Angy!"
She flung the door open hastily. The signs of the tears had not been
obliterated, and her face was drawn and old. Straightway she put her
hand on his arm and searched his face inquiringly.
"What did the gals say ter yew?" she whispered. "Abe, yew made a mistake
when yew picked out Bl--"
"Poor leetle Mother!" he interrupted. "Poor leetle Mother!" a world of
remorseful pity in his tone. "So yew been jealous of yer ole man?"
Angeline, astonished and indignant, withdrew her hand sharply, demanding
to know if he had lost his senses; but the blinded old gentleman slipped
his arm around her and, bending, brushed his lips against her cheek.
"Thar, thar," he murmured soothingly, "I didn't mean no harm. I can't
help it ef all the gals git stuck on me!"
Before Angy could make any reply, Blossy called to the couple softly but
insistently from the foot of the stairs; and Angy, wrenching herself
free, hastened down the steps, for once in her life glad to get away
from Abe. He lost no time in following. No matter where Angy went, he
would follow until all was well between her and him again.
But what was this? At the landing, Angy halted and so did Abe, for in
the center of the sisters stood Blossy with her Sunday bonnet perched on
her silver-gold hair and her white India shawl over her shoulders, and
beside Blossy stood Captain Samuel Darby with a countenance exceedingly
radiant, his hand clasped fast in that of the aged beauty.
"Oh, hurry, Sister Angy and Brother Abe!" called Blossy. "We were
waiting for you, and I've got some news for all my friends." She waited
smilingly for them to join the others; then with a gesture which
included every member of the household, she proceeded: "The pink tea, I
want you all to know, had a double significance, and first, of course,
it was to celebrate the anniversary of Brother Abe's sojourn with us;
but next it was my farewell to the Home." Here Blossy gurgled and gave
the man at her right so coy a glance that Samuel's face flamed red and
he hung his head lower to one side than usual, like a little boy that
had been caught stealing apples. "I left the tea a trifle early--you
must forgive me, Brother Abe, but I heard the train-whistle." Abe stood
beside Angeline, rooted in astonishment, while Blossy continued to
address him directly. "You gave Samuel so many good recommendations,
dear brother, that when the time approached for his June visit, I felt
that I simply could not let him miss it as he did in December. Last
year, on the day you entered, he was here through no desire of mine.
To-day he is here at my request. My friends," again she included the
entire Home in her glance, "we'll come back a little later to say
Good-by. Now, we're on the way to the minister's."
The pair, Samuel tongue-tied and bewildered by the joy of his finally
won success, moved toward the door. On the threshold of the Home Blossy
turned and waved farewell to the companions of her widowhood, while
Samuel bowed in a dazed fashion, his face still as red as it was
blissful. Then quickly the two passed out upon the porch. No one moved
to see them off. Abe looked everywhere yet nowhere at all. Not a word
was spoken even when the carriage was heard rolling down the drive; but
the sound of the wheels seemed to arouse Angy from her stupor of
amazement; and presently Abraham became conscious of a touch,--a touch
sympathetic, tender and true,--a touch all-understanding--the touch of
Angy's hand within his own.
X
THE TURN OF THE TIDE
From time immemorial the history of the popular hero has ever been the
same. To king and patriot, to the favorite girl at school and the small
boy who is leader of the "gang," to politician, to preacher, to actor
and author, comes first worship then eclipse. The great Napoleon did not
escape this common fate; and the public idol who was kissed only
yesterday for his gallant deeds is scorned to-day for having permitted
the kissing. Oh, caprice of the human heart! Oh, cry of the race for the
unaccustomed!
From that first anniversary of his entrance into the Home, Abraham felt
his popularity decrease--in fact more than decrease. He saw the
weather-vane go square about, and where he had known for three hundred
and sixty-five days the gentle, balmy feel of the southwest zephyr, he
found himself standing of a sudden in a cold, bleak northeast wind. The
change bewildered the old man, and reacted on his disposition. As he had
blossomed in the sunshine, so now he began to droop in the shade.
Feeling that he was suspected and criticized, he began to grow
suspicious and fault-finding himself. His old notion that he had no
right to take a woman's place in the Institution came back to his brain,
and he would brood over it for hours at a time, sitting out on the
porch with his pipe and Angy.
The old wife grieved to think that Father was growing old and beginning
to show his years. She made him some tansy tea, but neither her
persuasions nor those of the whole household could induce him to take
it. He had never liked "doctoring" anyway, although he had submitted to
it more or less during the past year in unconscious subservience to his
desire to increase his popularity; but now he fancied that where once he
had been served as a king by all these female attendants, he was simply
being "pestered" as a punishment for his past behavior with Blossy. Ah,
with its surprising ending that had been a humiliating affair; and he
felt too that he would be long in forgiving Mrs. Darby for not having
confided to him her actual intentions. Now he was afraid to be decently
courteous to one of the sisters for fear that they might accuse him of
light dalliance again; and he scarcely ever addressed the new member who
came to take Blossy's little room, for he had been cut to the quick by
her look of astonishment when she was told that he belonged there.
In his mental ferment the old man began to nag at Angy. Sad though it is
to confess of a hero honestly loved, Abraham had nagged a little all his
married life when things went wrong. And Angeline, fretted and nervous,
herself worried almost sick over Father's condition, was guilty once in
a while out of the depths of her anxiety of nagging back again. So do
we hurt those whom we love best as we would and could hurt no other.
"I told yer I never could stand it here amongst all these dratted
women-folks," Abe would declare. "It's all your fault that I didn't go to
the poorhouse in peace."
"I notice yew didn't raise no objections until yew'd lived here a year,"
Angy would retort; but ignoring this remark, he would go on:
"It's 'Brother Abe' this an' 'Brother Abe' that! as ef I had thirty
wives a-pesterin' me instid of one. I can't kill a fly but it's 'Brother
Abe, lemme bury him fer yew.' Do yer all think I be a baby?" demanded
the old gentleman with glaring eye. "I guess I'm able ter do somethin'
fer myself once in a while. I hain't so old as some folks might think,"
he continued with superb inconsistence. "I be a mere child compared with
that air plagued Nancy Smith."
It took very little to exhaust Angy's ability for this style of
repartee, and she would rejoin with tender but mistaken efforts to
soothe and comfort him:
"Thar, thar, Father! don't git excited neow. Seems ter me ye 're a
leetle bit feverish. Ef only yew 'd take this here tansy tea."
Abraham would give one exasperated glance at the tin cup and mutter into
the depths of his beard:
"Tansy tea an' old women! Old women an' tansy tea! Tansy tea be durned!"
Abe failed perceptibly during the summer, grew feebler as the autumn
winds blew in, and by November he took to his bed and the physician of
the Home, a little whiffet of a pompous idiot, was called to attend him.
The doctor, determined at the start to make a severe case of the old
man's affliction in order that he might have the greater glory in the
end, be it good or bad, looked very grave over Abraham's tongue and
pulse, prescribed medicine for every half-hour, and laid especial stress
upon the necessity of keeping the patient in bed.
"Humbug!" growled the secretly terrified invalid, and in an excess of
bravado took his black silk necktie from where it hung on the bedpost
and tied it in a bow-knot around the collar of his pink-striped
nightshirt, so that he would be in proper shape to receive any of the
sisters. Then he lay very still, his eyes closed, as they came tiptoeing
in and out. Their tongues were on gentle tiptoe too, although not so
gentle but that he could hear them advising: one, a "good, stiff mustard
plaster"; one, an "onion poultice"; another, a "Spanish blister"; while
Aunt Nancy stopped short of nothing less than "old-fashioned bleeding."
Abe lay very still and wondered if they meant to kill him. He was
probably going to die anyhow, so why torment him. Only when he was dead,
he hoped that they would think more kindly of him. And so surrounded yet
alone, the old man fought his secret terror until mercifully he went to
sleep.
When he awoke there were the sisters again; and day after day they
spent their combined efforts in keeping him on his back and forcing him
to take his medicine, the only appreciable good resulting therefrom
being the fact that with this tax upon their devotion the old ladies
came once more to regard Abe as the most precious possession of the
Home.
"What ef he should die?" they whispered among themselves, repentant
enough of their late condemnation of him and already desolate at the
thought of his leaving this little haven with them for the "great haven"
over there; and the whisper reaching the sickroom, Abe's fever would
rise, while he could never lift his lashes except to see the specter of
helpless old age on one side of the bed and death upon the other.
"What's the matter with me?" he demanded of the doctor, as one who would
say: "Pooh! pooh! You're a humbug! What do you mean by keeping me in
bed?" Yet the old man was trembling with that inner fear. The physician,
a feminine kind of a bearded creature himself, took Abe's hand in
his--an engaging trick he had with the old ladies.
"Now, my friend, do not distress yourself. Of course, you are a very
sick man; I cannot deceive you as to that; but during my professional
career, I have seen some remarkable cases of recovery and--"
"But what's the matter with me?" broke in Abe, by this time fairly white
with fear. The doctor had assured him that all his organs were sound,
so he could only conclude that he must have one of those unusual
diseases such as Miss Abigail was reading about in the paper yesterday.
Maybe, although his legs were so thin to-day, he was on the verge of an
attack of elephantiasis!
"What's the matter with me?" he repeated, his eyes growing wilder and
wilder.
What the doctor really replied would be difficult to tell; but out of
the confusion of his technicalities Abe caught the words, "nerves" and
"hysteria."
"Mother, yew hear that?" he cried. "I got narvous hysterics. I told yer
somethin' would happen ter me a-comin' to this here place. All them old
woman's diseases is ketchin'. Why on 'arth didn't yer let me go to the
poorhouse?"
He fell back on the pillow and drew the bedclothes up to his ears, while
Angy followed the doctor out into the hall to receive, as Abe supposed,
a more detailed description of his malady. He felt too weak, however, to
question Angy when she returned, and stubbornly kept his eyes closed
until he heard Mrs. Homan tiptoe into the room to announce in hushed
tones that Blossy and Samuel Darby were below, and Samuel wanted to know
if he might see the invalid.
Then Abe threw off the covers in a hurry and sat up. "Sam'l Darby?" he
asked, the strength coming back into his voice. "A man! Nary a woman
ner a doctor! Yes--yes, show him up!"
Angy nodded in response to Mrs. Homan's glance of inquiry; for had not
the doctor told her that it would not hasten the end to humor the
patient in any reasonable whim? And she also consented to withdraw when
Abe informed her that he wished to be left alone with his visitor, as it
was so long since he had been face to face with a man "an' no petticoat
a-hangin' 'round the corner."
"Naow, be keerful, Cap'n Darby," the little mother-wife cautioned at the
door, "be very keerful. Don't stay tew long an' don't rile him up, fer
he's dretful excited, Abe is."
XI
MENTAL TREATMENT
Little Samuel Darby paused at the foot of the bed and stared at Abe
without saying a word, while Abe fixed his dim, distressed eyes on his
visitor with a dumb appeal for assistance. Samuel looked a very
different man from the old bachelor who used to come a-wooing every six
months at the Home. Either marriage had brought him a new growth of
hair, or else Blossy had selected a new wig for him--a modest, close,
iron-gray which fitted his poll to perfection. Marriage or Blossy had
also overcome in Samuel that tendency to hang his head "to starb'd";
and now he lifted his bright eyes with the manner of one who would say: