his life a martyrdom. He used to tell the "fellers" that he spent one
half his time carrying orders back and forth from the Old Ladies' Home.
But now, in spite of his meekness of manner, he did not intend to take
this cut back. So with Machiavellian skill he hastened on with his
gossip.

"Yop, an' they only riz one hundred dollars an' two cents--one hundred
dollars an' a postage-stamp. I guess it's all up with the cap'n an' the
Old Men's. I don't see 'em hangin' out no 'Welcome' sign on the strength
of that."

"You're a horrid, heartless little boy!" burst forth Miss Abigail, and,
flinging the disputed meat on the table, she sank down into the chair,
completely overcome by sorrow and indignation. "You'll be old yerself
some day," she sobbed, not noticing that he was stealthily edging toward
the door, one eye on her, one on to-morrow's pot-roast. "I tell yew,
Tommy," regaining her accustomed confiding amiability, as she lifted the
corner of her apron to wipe her eyes, "Miss Ellie will feel some kind o'
bad, tew. Yer know me an' her an' Angy all went ter school tergether,
although Miss Ellie is so much younger 'n the rest o' us that we call
her the baby. Here! Where--"

But he was gone. Sighing heavily, the matron put the meat in the
ice-box, and then made her slow, lumbering way into the front hall, or
community-room, where the sisters were gathered in a body to await the
new arrival.

"Waal, say!" she supplemented, after she had finished telling her
pitiably brief story, "thar's trouble ernough ter go 'round, hain't
thar?"