Old Lady Number 31 | Page 2

the little wife had rejoined, "it'll be a mite o' comfort a-knowin' a
body's so near, even ef yer can't git tew 'em."
Now, another solution must be found to the problem; for the auction
was over, and instead of two hundred dollars they had succeeded in
raising but one hundred dollars and two cents.
"That air tew cents was fer the flour-sifter," inwardly mourned Angy,
"an' it was wuth double an' tribble, fer it's been a good friend ter me fer
nigh on ter eight year."
"Tew cents on the second hunderd," said Abe for the tenth time. "I've
counted it over an' over. One hunderd dollars an' tew pesky pennies.
An' I never hear a man tell so many lies in my life as that air auctioneer.
Yew'd 'a' thought he was sellin' out the Empery o' Rooshy. Hy-guy, it
sounded splendid. Fust off I thought he'd raise us more 'n we expected.
An' mebbe he would have tew, Angy," a bit ruefully, "ef yew'd 'a' let
me advertise a leetle sooner. I don't s'pose half Shoreville knows yit
that we was gwine ter have a auction sale." He watched the color rising
in her cheeks with a curious mixture of pride in her pride and regret at
its consequences. "It's no use a-talkin', Mother, Pride an' Poverty makes
oneasy bed-fellers."
He leaned back in the old chair, creaking out a dismal echo to the
auctioneer's, "Going, going, gone!" while the flush deepened in Angy's
cheek. Again she fastened her gaze upon the indomitable red rose
which hung a pendant ear-ring on the right side of Abraham's head.
"Yew wouldn't 'a' had folks a-comin' here ter bid jest out o' charity,
would yew?" she demanded. "An' anyhow," in a more gentle tone,--the
gently positive tone which she had acquired through forty years of
living with Abraham,--"we hain't so bad off with one hunderd dollars
an' tew cents, an'--beholden ter nobody! It's tew cents more 'n yew need
ter git yew inter the Old Men's, an' them extry tew cents'll pervide fer
me jest bewtiful." Abraham stopped rocking to stare hard at his
resourceful wife, an involuntary twinkle of amusement in his blue eyes.

With increased firmness, she repeated, "Jest bewtiful!" whereupon Abe,
scenting self-sacrifice on his wife's part, sat up straight and snapped,
"Haow so, haow so, Mother?"
"It'll buy a postage-stamp, won't it?"--she was fairly aggressive
now,--"an' thar's a envelop what wa'n't put up ter auction in the
cupboard an' a paper-bag I kin iron out,--ketch me a-gwine ter the
neighbors an' a-beggin' fer writin'-paper--an' I'll jest set daown an' write
a line ter Mis' Halsey. Her house hain't a stun's throw from the Old
Men's; an' I'll offer ter come an' take keer o' them air young 'uns o' her'n
fer my board an' keep an'--ten cents a week. I was a-gwine ter say a
quarter, but I don't want ter impose on nobody. Seein' that they hain't
over well-ter-do, I would go fer nothin', but I got ter have somethin' ter
keep up appearances on, so yew won't have no call ter feel ashamed of
me when I come a-visitin' ter the hum." Involuntarily, as she spoke,
Angy lifted her knotted old hand and smoothed back the hair from her
brow; for through all the struggling years she had kept a certain, not
unpleasing, girlish pride in her personal appearance.
Abraham had risen with creaks of his rheumatic joints, and was now
walking up and down the room, his feet lifted slowly and painfully with
every step, yet still his blue eyes flashing with the fire of indignant
protest.
"Me a-bunkin' comfortable in the Old Men's, an' yew a-takin' keer o'
them Halsey young 'uns fer ten cents a week! I wouldn't take keer o'
'em fer ten cents a short breath. Thar be young 'uns an' young 'uns," he
elucidated, "but they be tartars! Yew'd be in yer grave afore the fust
frost; an' who's a-gwine ter bury yer--the taown?" His tone became
gentle and broken: "No, no, Angy. Yew be a good gal, an' dew jest as
we calc'lated on. Yew jine the Old Ladies'; yew've got friends over thar,
yew'll git erlong splendid. An' I'll git erlong tew. Yer know"--throwing
his shoulders back, he assumed the light, bantering tone so familiar to
his wife--"the poorhouse doors is always open. I'd jest admire ter go
thar. Thar's a rocking-chair in every room, and they say the grub is A
No. 1." He winked at her, smiling his broadest smile in his attempt to
deceive.

Both wink and smile, however, were lost upon Angy, who was busy
dividing the apple-sauce in such a way that Abe would have the larger
share without suspecting it, hoping the while that he would not notice
the absence of butter