described the loneliness of the life at the Home as it had been with no
man under the roof of the house and only a deaf-and-dumb gardener, who
hated her sex, in the barn. Then in contrast she painted life as it must
be for the sisters now that the thirty tender vines 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