"Oh, no, no; not that. But I confess that I am tired to death of this
perpetual dove-party. I just simply can't live another minute without a
man in the house.

"Now, Miss Abigail," she added imperiously, "you run across lots and
fetch him home."




IV

ONE OF THEM


Ah! but Abraham slept that night as if he had been drawn to rest under
the compelling shelter of the wings of all that flock which in happier
days he had dubbed contemptuously "them air old hens." Never afterward
could the dazed old gentleman remember how he had been persuaded to come
into the house and up the stairs with Angeline. He only knew that in the
midst of that heart-breaking farewell at the gate, Miss Abigail, all out
of breath with running, red in the face, but exceedingly hearty of
manner, had suddenly appeared.

"Shoo, shoo, shoo!" this stout angel had gasped. "Naow, Cap'n Abe, yew
needn't git narvous. We 're as harmless as doves. Run right erlong. Yew
won't see anybody ter-night. Don't say a word. It's all right. Sssh!
Shoo!" And then, lo! he was not in the County Almshouse, but in a
beautiful bright bedchamber with a wreath of immortelles over the
mantel, alone with Angy.