Abe forced a laugh to his lips in response.

"No, no; I'm goin' over ter Yaphank ter board on the county."

Again the couple would have passed on, their faces flushed, their eyes
lowered, had not Ishmael flung out one hand to detain them while he
plunged the other hurriedly into his pocket.

"Here." He drew out a meager handful of nickels and pennies, his vacant
smile grown wistful. "Here, take it, Cap'n Rose. It's all I got. I can't
count it myself, but yew can. Don't yew think it's enough ter set yew up
in business, so yew won't have ter go ter the poorhouse? The poorhouse
is a bad place. I was there last winter. I don't like the poorhouse."

He rambled on of the poorhouse. Angy, panting for breath, one hand
against the smothering pain at her heart, was trying, with the other, to
drag "Father" along. "Father" was shaking his head at Ishmael, at the
proffered nickels and pennies--shaking his head and choking. At length
he found his voice, and was able to smile at his would-be benefactor
with even the ghost of a twinkle in his eye.

"Much obliged, Cap'n Rover; but yew keep yer money fer terbaccy. I ain't
so high-toned as yew. I'll take real comfort at the poorhouse. S' long;
thank yer. S' long."

Ishmael went on his way muttering to himself, unhappily jingling his
rejected alms; while Angy and Abe resumed their journey.

As they came to the gate of the Old Ladies' Home, Angy seized hold of