Part 6 (2/2)

this; and Angy knew that his heart was hers as much as it had been the day he purchased his wedding-beaver; but Abe could not refrain from a chuckle of complacent amus.e.m.e.nt as he stroked his beard.

His very evident hardness of heart so horrified the old ladies that they all began to attack him at once.

”Seems ter me I'd have the decency ter show some shame!” grimly avowed Sarah Jane.

Abe could not help it. He sputtered. Even Miss Abigail's, ”Yew were a stranger an' we took yew in” did not sober him.

”Ef any one o' my husbands had acted the way you've acted, Abe Rose,”

began Mrs. Homan.

”Poor leetle Angy,” broke in the gentle Miss Ellie pityingly. ”She must 'a' lost six pounds.”

Abraham's mobile face clouded over.

”Angy?” he faltered. ”Yew don't mean that Angy--” Silence again fell on the group, while every glance was fastened on Abraham. ”See here,” he flashed his faded blue eye, ”Angy's got more sense than that!”

No one answered, but there was a significant shrugging of shoulders and lifting of eyebrows. Abraham was distressed and concerned enough now.

Rising from his place he besought the sisters:

”Yew don't think Angy's feelin's have been hurt--dew yew, gals?”

Their faces softened, their figures relaxed, the tide of feeling changed in Abraham's favor. Miss Ellie spoke very softly:

”Yew know that even 'the Lord thy G.o.d is a jealous G.o.d.'”

Abraham grasped the back of his chair for support, his figure growing limp with astonishment. ”Mother, jealous of me?” he whispered to himself, the memory of all the years and all the great happenings of all the years coming back to him. ”Mother jealous of me?” He remembered how he had once been tormented by jealousy in the long, the ever-so-long ago, and of a sudden he hastened into the hall and went half-running up the stairs. He took hold of the latch of his bedroom door. It did not open. The door was locked.

”Angy!” he called, a fear of he knew not what gripping at his heart.

”Angy!” he repeated as she did not answer.

The little old wife had locked herself in out of very shame of the rare tears which had been brought to the surface by the sisters' cruel treatment of Abraham. When she heard his call she hastened to the blue wash-basin and began hurriedly to dab her eyes. He would be alarmed if he saw the traces of her weeping. Whatever had happened to him, for his sake she must face it valiantly. He called again. Again she did not answer, knowing that her voice would be full of the telltale tears. Abe waited. He heard the tramp of feet pa.s.sing out of the dining-room into the hall. He heard Blossy emerge from her room at the end of the pa.s.sage and go tripping down the stairs. The time to Angy, guiltily bathing her face, was short; the time to her anxious husband unaccountably long.

The sound of wheels driving up to the front door came to Abe's ears.

Still Angy made him no response.

”Angy!” he raised his voice in piteous pleading. What mattered if the sisters gathered in the lower hall heard him? What mattered if the chance guest who had just arrived heard him also? He had his peace to make with his wife and he would make it. ”Angy!”

She flung the door open hastily. The signs of the tears had not been obliterated, and her face was drawn and old. Straightway she put her hand on his arm and searched his face inquiringly.

”What did the gals say ter yew?” she whispered. ”Abe, yew made a mistake when yew picked out Bl--”

”Poor leetle Mother!” he interrupted. ”Poor leetle Mother!” a world of remorseful pity in his tone. ”So yew been jealous of yer ole man?”

Angeline, astonished and indignant, withdrew her hand sharply, demanding to know if he had lost his senses; but the blinded old gentleman slipped his arm around her and, bending, brushed his lips against her cheek.

”Thar, thar,” he murmured soothingly, ”I didn't mean no harm. I can't help it ef all the gals git stuck on me!”

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