Abe lay very still and wondered if they meant to kill him. He was
probably going to die anyhow, so why torment him. Only when he was dead,
he hoped that they would think more kindly of him. And so surrounded yet
alone, the old man fought his secret terror until mercifully he went to
sleep.

When he awoke there were the sisters again; and day after day they
spent their combined efforts in keeping him on his back and forcing him
to take his medicine, the only appreciable good resulting therefrom
being the fact that with this tax upon their devotion the old ladies
came once more to regard Abe as the most precious possession of the
Home.

"What ef he should die?" they whispered among themselves, repentant
enough of their late condemnation of him and already desolate at the
thought of his leaving this little haven with them for the "great haven"
over there; and the whisper reaching the sickroom, Abe's fever would
rise, while he could never lift his lashes except to see the specter of
helpless old age on one side of the bed and death upon the other.

"What's the matter with me?" he demanded of the doctor, as one who would
say: "Pooh! pooh! You're a humbug! What do you mean by keeping me in
bed?" Yet the old man was trembling with that inner fear. The physician,
a feminine kind of a bearded creature himself, took Abe's hand in
his--an engaging trick he had with the old ladies.

"Now, my friend, do not distress yourself. Of course, you are a very
sick man; I cannot deceive you as to that; but during my professional
career, I have seen some remarkable cases of recovery and--"