They ate in silence the meals which Abbie prepared: Old Chris at one end of the long table, and Abbie at the other end. In silence they went about their accustomed tasks. Abbie, tired with a new weariness, sat in her chair beside the marble-topped table. The village was talking about her; she knew it; she felt it all around her. Well, let them talk! But one day Almont sent a committee to her. It was composed of one man and three women. Abbie saw them when they turned in at her gate--Pastor Lucus, Lorina Inman, Antha Ewell, and Aunt Alphie Newberry. Abbie walked to the center of the parlor and stood there, her hands clenched, her face set. The door-bell rang; for a moment her body swayed. Then she went into the bay window and drew the blinds aside. Antha Ewell saw her and jerked Pastor Lucus’s arm. Pastor Lucus turned and caught sight of Abbie; he thought that she had not heard the bell, so he tapped the door panel with his fingers and nodded his head at her invitingly, as if to say: “See, we’re waiting for you to let us in.” Abbie’s expression did not change. Pastor Lucus tapped at the door again, this time hesitantly, and still she looked at them with unseeing eyes. He tapped a third time, then turned and looked at the three women. Aunt Alphie Newberry tugged at his arm, and the committee of four turned about without looking at Abbie, and walked down the steps. A few minutes later Abbie heard the door between the parlor and dining-room open. Old Chris came in. For a moment or two neither spoke. Old Chris fingered his cap. “Abbie, I lived here forty-two years. I was here when you was born. I carried you around in my arms a little bit of thing an’ made you laugh.” Abbie did not turn away from the window. “I know what they came for,” Old Chris continued. “Your Ma--your Ma, she’d never thought I’d have to go away from here.” Abbie could not answer him. “I don’t know who’ll keep the furnace a-goin’ when I’m gone, nor fill the up-stairs woodroom.” Still no answer. “I’m old now--I’ll go to Owen Frazer’s farm--down to Miles Corners. He’ll have some work I can do.” Old Chris stroked his baggy cheeks with trembling hands. Abbie still looked out of the window. “I’m a-goin’ down to the post-office now,” said Old Chris, as he turned and went to the door. “Be there anything you want?” Abbie shook her head; she could not find words. As Old Chris went down the hall she heard him mumble, “I don’t know what she’ll do when I’m gone.”