"There are no theatres or moving pictures in Gaboon."
"Pooh! I can see those any time!"
"You'd leave Nanny?" I asked, playing my last trump.
She hesitated a moment—until the obvious struck her.
"But couldn't she come, too?"
"By all means!" I said, glaring at Gran'pa. "This is a quiet little family trip. We might even invite a few dozen friends as well."
"Now, George!" admonished Gran'pa. "Don't be feeble! Molly's suggestion is quite natural, but unfortunately, my dear," he said, addressing her direct, "it would not be convenient to take Nanny. She will stay and look after the house. And, in any case, she wouldn't want to come. She was never intended for quick transit from place to place."
Like all the rest of Gran'pa's ideas, this one of taking Molly with us to Gaboon looked idiotic at first; then it slowly emerged into a perfectly reasonable though slightly unconventional project. After all, the sea voyage would undoubtedly do her good. The question was, would the climate of Gaboon do likewise? I asked this ninety-five-year-old usurper of my parental authority what he had to say to that?
"Oh, I don't think you need worry, George. There are spots on the north bank of the river which are moderately healthy, so I've ascertained. In addition, we shall seldom be away for more than a few nights at a time—that's the beauty of aeroplaning!"
"Meanwhile, where's Molly going to stay? She can't wander about alone."