ds blew in, and by November he took to his bed and the physician of
the Home, a little whiffet of a pompous idiot, was called to attend him.
The doctor, determined at the start to make a severe case of the old
man's affliction in order that he might have the greater glory in the
end, be it good or bad, looked very grave over Abraham's tongue and
pulse, prescribed medicine for every half-hour, and laid especial stress
upon the necessity of keeping the patient in bed.

"Humbug!" growled the secretly terrified invalid, and in an excess of
bravado took his black silk necktie from where it hung on the bedpost
and tied it in a bow-knot around the collar of his pink-striped
nightshirt, so that he would be in proper shape to receive any of the
sisters. Then he lay very still, his eyes closed, as they came tiptoeing
in and out. Their tongues were on gentle tiptoe too, although not so
gentle but that he could hear them advising: one, a "good, stiff mustard
plaster"; one, an "onion poultice"; another, a "Spanish blister"; while
Aunt Nancy stopped short of nothing less than "old-fashioned bleeding."
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 enga