"Don't scold him when he leaves the doors open. Don't tell him to wipe
his feet. Don't ever mention gold-mines or shiftless husbands," etc.,
etc.

All these triumphs of Blossy's intuition served naturally to spur the
others on to do even more for Brother Abe than they had already done,
until the old man began to worry for fear that he should "git sp'ilt."
When he lay down for his afternoon nap and the house was dull and quiet
without his waking presence, the ladies would gather in groups outside
his door as if in a king's antechamber, waiting for him to awaken,
saying to one another ever and again, "Sh, sh!" He professed to scoff at
the attentions he received, would grunt and growl "Humbug!" yet
nevertheless he thrived in this latter-day sunlight. His old bones took
on flesh. His aged kindly face, all seamed with care as it had been,
filled out, the wrinkles turning into twinkles. Abraham had grown young
again. With the return of his youth came the spirit of youth to the Old
Ladies' Home. Verily, verily, as Blossy had avowed from the first, they
had been in sore need of the masculine presence. The ancient coat and
hat which had hung in the hall so long had perhaps served its purpose
in keeping the burglars away, but this lifeless substitute had not
prevented the crabbed gnomes of loneliness and discontent from stealing
in. Spinster, wife, and widow, they had every one been warped by the
testy just-so-ness of the old maid.

Now, instead of fretful discussions of health and food, recriminations
and wrangling, there came to be laughter and good-humored chatter all
the day long, each sister striving with all her strength to preserve the
new-found harmony of the Home. There were musical evenings, when Miss
Abigail opened the melodeon and played "Old Hundred," and Abraham was
encouraged to pick out with one stiff forefinger "My Grandfather's