ines had found a stanch
old oak for their clinging. "Me?" queried Abraham of himself and, with
another silent glance, of Angy.

But what was this? Blossy, leading all the others in a resounding call
of "Welcome!" and then Blossy drawing her two hands from behind her
back. One held a huge blue cup, the other, the saucer to match. She
placed the cup in the saucer and held it out to Abraham. He trudged down
the few steps to receive it, unashamed now of the tears that coursed
down his cheeks. With a burst of delight he perceived that it was a
mustache cup, such as the one he had always used at home until it had
been set for safe-keeping on the top pantry shelf to await the auction,
where it had brought the price of eleven cents with half a paper of
tacks thrown in.

And now as the tears cleared away he saw also, what Angy's eyes had
already noted, the inscription in warm crimson letters on the shining
blue side of the cup, "To Our Beloved Brother."

"Sisters," he mumbled, for he could do no more than mumble as he took
his gift, "ef yew'd been gittin' ready fer me six months, yew couldn't
have done no better."

V

THE HEAD OF THE CORNER

Everybody wore their company manners to the breakfast-table--the first
time in the whole history of the Home when company manners had graced
the initial meal of the day. Being pleasant at supper was easy enough,
Aunt Nancy used to say, for every one save the unreasonably
cantankerous, and being agreeable at dinner was not especially
difficult; but no one short of a saint could be expected to smile of
mornings until sufficient time had been given to discover whether one
had stepped out on the wrong or the right side of the bed.

This morning, however, no time was needed to demonstrate that everybody
in the place had gotten out on the happy side of his couch. Even the
deaf-and-dumb gardener had untwisted his surly temper, and as Abraham
entered the dining-room, looked in at the east window with a
conciliatory grin and nod which said as plainly as words:

"'T is a welcome sight indeed to see one of my own kind around this
establishment!"

"Why don't he come in?" questioned Abe, waving back a greeting as well
as he could with the treasured cup in one of his hands and the saucer in
the other; whereupon Sarah Jane, that ugly duckling, explained that the
fellow, being a confirmed woman-hater, cooked all his own meals in the
smokehouse, and insisted upon all his orders being left