Abe pushed his chair back from the table and crossed his legs comfortably. For him all the chill had gone out of the air. Suppose that there was something in this? An old, old devil of vanity came back to the aged husband's heart. He recalled that he had been somewhat of a beau before he learned the joy of loving Angy. More than one Long Island lassie had thrown herself at his head. Of course Blossy would "get over" 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 amusement 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 God is a jealous God.'" 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.