In truth, there had been no drought in the garden that summer, but
almost a double yield of corn and beans; no drought in the gifts sent to
the Home, but showers of plenty. Some of these came in the form of fresh
fish and clams left at the back door; some in luscious fruits; some in
barrels of clothing. And the barrels of clothing solved another problem;
for no longer did their contents consist solely of articles of feminine
attire. "Biled shirts" poured out of them; socks and breeches, derby
hats, coats and negligees; until Aunt Nancy with a humorous twist to her
thin lips inquired if there were thirty men in this establishment and
one woman.

"I never thought I'd come to wearin' a quilted silk basque with tossels
on it," Abe remarked one day on being urged to try on a handsome
smoking-jacket. "Dew I look like one of them sissy-boys, er jest a
dude?"

"It's dretful becoming," insisted Angy, "bewtiful! Ain't it, gals?"

Every old lady nodded her head with an air of proud proprietorship, as
if to say, "Nothing could fail to become _our_ brother." And Angy nodded
her head, too, in delighted approval of their appreciation of "our
brother" and "my husband."

Beautiful, joy-steeped, pleasure-filled days these were for the couple,
who had been cramped for life's smallest necessities so many meager
years. Angy felt that she had been made miraculously young by the birth
of this new Abraham--almost as if at last she had been given the son for
whom in her youth she had prayed with impassioned appeal. Her old-wife
love became rejuvenated into a curious mixture of proud mother-love and
young-wife leaning, as she saw Abe win every heart and become the