thout--"

"Might better adopt the sisters"; he spoke almost gruffly. "I allers did
think young 'uns would be the most comfort tew yew after they growed
up."

"A baby is dretful cunnin'," Angy persisted. "But," she added sadly, "I
don't suppose a teethin' mite would find much in common with us."

"Anyway," vowed Abe, suddenly beginning to unfasten the pillow-shams,
"these belong ter us, an' I'm a-goin' ter take 'em."

They went down-stairs silently, the shams wrapped in a newspaper
carried under his arm.

"Waal, naow,"--he tried to speak cheerfully as they rejoined the others,
and he pushed his way toward the dining-room,--"I'll go an' git my cup
an' sasser."

But Miss Abigail blocked the door, again blushing, again confused.

"That 'Tew-our-Beloved-Brother' cup," she said gently, her eyes not
meeting the wound in his, "we 'bout concluded yew'd better leave here
fer the one what answers the ad. Yew got so much naow, an' him--"

She did not finish. She could not. She felt rather than saw the blazing
of Abe's old eyes. Then the fire beneath his brows died out and a mist
obscured his sight.

"Gals," he asked humbly, "would yew ruther have a new 'beloved
brother'?"

For a space there was no answer. Aunt Nancy's head was bowed in her
hands. Lazy Daisy was openly sobbing. Miss Ellie was twisting her
fingers nervously in and out--she unwound them to clutch at Angy's arm
as if to hold her. At last Miss Abigail spoke with so unaccustomed a
sharpness that her voice seemed not her own:

"Sech a foolish question as that nobody in their sound senses would
ask."

Abe sat down in his old place at the fireside and smiled a thousand
smiles in one. He smiled and rubbed his hands before the blaze. The
blaze itself seemed scarcely more bright and warm than the light from
within which transfigured his aged face.

"Gals," he chuckled in his old familiar way, "I dunno how Sam'l Darby'll
take it; but if Mother's willin', I guess I won't buy back no more of
the old place, 'cept'n' jest my rockin'-chair with the red roses onto
it; an' all the rest o' this here plagued money I'll hand over ter the
directors, an' stay right here an' take my comfort."

Angy bent down and whispered in his ear: "I'd ruther dew it, tew,
Father. Anythin' else would seem like goin' a-visitin'. But yew don't
want ter go an' blame me," she added anxiously, "ef yew git all riled up
an' sick abed ag'in."

"Pshaw, Mother," he protested; "yew fergit I was _