"Yes, I know there are, and I'll just delight to take hold and do them. I told Mr. Dobson that I wanted to begin to do for you both right away. I'm real glad you thought—of it, Mis' Dobson, for I've nobody else, now, to care for, and I should love to take care of poor Mr. Dobson and try to make him happy—just real happy—the best of anybody in the world. He looked so pleased when I told him so."
"Did he? He did!"
"Yes, his face just lighted up when I told him that we all knew how faithful he'd been to his trust through such a long, hard siege, how kind and patient, and that it would be a privilege to try to make it up to him a little."
"Oh—ah—well, what did he say to that?"
"He just said the hand of the Lord had fallen rather heavy on him, but he'd tried to bear the burden the best he could, and if he held out to the end the Lord would reward him. And he said it was the Lord's mercy to give him such a good, clever wife to take care of—since she was sickly. Now, would you like me to bake you some cookies this morning, or do the mending?"
"I don't know. Did Andrew say that? Well, he has been faithful. You're goin' to git an awful good man, Abilonia. Say, don't you tell him, or it'll scare him, but I'm goin' to do a terrible resky thing. I'm goin' to set up here in the bed a little spell. Go you up to the top bureau drawer in the spare room and git my black shawl. I know I might fall over dead, but I'm goin' to take the resk."
"Why, Mis' Dobson, it isn't safe!"
"Safe or not, I'm goin' to do it. I'm goin' to set up a spell. I never stop for consequences to myself when I set out to do a thing."
The perilous feat was accomplished without tragedy. After she had had a nap, propped up in the bed, Mrs. Dobson's soul rose to greater heights of daring, when Abilonia remarked that Mrs. Dobson's plum-colored silk was the very thing for a lining to her own silk quilt, and as it would not be worn again she might as well take it over and make it up. She was adding that she would like to have a crayon portrait made of Mr. Dobson to hang beside that of his wife which adorned the parlor in ante-mortem state, when Marthy interrupted: "Abilonia, go you and git me a dress. There ought to be a brown poplin hangin' in the little room closet, unless somebody moved it last spring in housecleanin' time. You bring that down. I want to git my feet onto the floor."
When Andrew came home to get dinner he stopped in the kitchen door, dumb with amazement. Marthy sat by the table in the big wooden chair peeling apples, while Abilonia rolled out the pie crust and told about the church quilting bee.