Old Lady Number 31 | Page 8

dew, for the taters was gittin' pooty low. Yew know she used ter
eat twenty ter a meal an' then look hungry at the platter. An' then ef old
Square Ely didn't come a-drivin' up one mornin' with ten bushel in the
farm wagon! He'd been savin' 'em fer us all winter fer fear we might
run short in the spring. Gals, thar's one thing yew kin depend on, the

foresightedness of the Lord. I hain't afraid ter risk a-stretchin' the board
an' keep o' thirty ter pervide ample fer thirty-one. Naow, haow many of
yew is willin' ter try it?"
Every head nodded, "I am"; every eye was wet with the dew of
merciful kindness; and Mrs. Homan and Sarah Jane, who had flung
plates at each other only that morning, were observed to be holding
hands.
"But haow on arth be we a-goin' ter sleep him?" proceeded the matron
uneasily. "Thar hain't a extry corner in the hull place. Puttin' tew people
in No. 30 is out of the question--it's jest erbout the size of a Cinderella
shoebox, anyhow, an' the garret leaks--"
She paused, for Blossy was pulling at her sleeve, the real Blossy,
warmhearted, generous, self-deprecating.
"I think No. 30 is just the coziest little place for one! Do let me take it,
Miss Abigail, and give the couple my great big barn of a room."
Aunt Nancy eyed her suspiciously. "Yew ain't a-gwine ter make a fool
o' yerself, an' jump over the broomstick ag'in?" For Blossy's old suitor,
Samuel Darby, had made one of his semiannual visits only that
morning.
The belle burst into hysterical and self-conscious laughter, as she found
every glance bent upon her.
"Oh, no, no; not that. But I confess that I am tired to death of this
perpetual dove-party. I just simply can't live another minute without a
man in the house.
"Now, Miss Abigail," she added imperiously, "you run across lots and
fetch him home."

IV

ONE OF THEM
Ah! but Abraham slept that night as if he had been drawn to rest under
the compelling shelter of the wings of all that flock which in happier
days he had dubbed contemptuously "them air old hens." Never
afterward could the dazed old gentleman remember how he had been
persuaded to come into the house and up the stairs with Angeline. He
only knew that in the midst of that heart-breaking farewell at the gate,
Miss Abigail, all out of breath with running, red in the face, but
exceedingly hearty of manner, had suddenly appeared.
"Shoo, shoo, shoo!" this stout angel had gasped. "Naow, Cap'n Abe,
yew needn't git narvous. We 're as harmless as doves. Run right erlong.
Yew won't see anybody ter-night. Don't say a word. It's all right. Sssh!
Shoo!" And then, lo! he was not in the County Almshouse, but in a
beautiful bright bedchamber with a wreath of immortelles over the
mantel, alone with Angy.
Afterward, it all seemed the blur of a dream to him, a dream which
ended when he had found his head upon a cool, white pillow, and had
felt glad, glad--dear God, how glad!--to know that Angy was still
within reach of his outstretched hand; and so he had fallen asleep. But
when he awoke in the morning, there stood Angeline in front of the
glass taking her hair out of curl papers; and then he slowly began to
realize the tremendous change that had come into their lives, when his
wife committed the unprecedented act of taking her crimps out before
breakfast. He realized' that they were to eat among strangers. He had
become the guest of thirty "women-folks." No doubt he should be
called "Old Gal Thirty-one." He got up and dressed very, very slowly.
The bewildered gratitude, the incredulous thanksgiving of last night,
were as far away as yesterday's sunset. A great seriousness settled upon
Abe's lean face. At last he burst forth:
"One to thirty! Hy-guy, I'm in fer it!" How had it happened, he
wondered. They had given him no time to think. They had swooped
down upon him when his brain was dulled with anguish. Virtually, they
had kidnapped him. Why had they brought him here to accept charity
of a women's institution? Why need they thus intensify his sense of

shame at his life's failure, and, above all, at his failure to provide for
Angeline? In the poorhouse he would have been only one more derelict;
but here he stood alone to be stared at and pitied and thrown a
sickly-satisfying crumb. With a sigh from the very cellar of his being,
he muttered:
"Aye, Mother, why didn't yew let me go on ter the County House? That
air's the place fer a worn-out old hull like me. Hy-guy!" he ejaculated,
beads of sweat