"You look miserable, George!" said Gran'pa, breaking into my thoughts.
"I am! I'm loath to leave. It is as if Fate has written 'Finis' and only blank pages are left in the Book of Life. . . ."
"Nonsense! This is merely the 'Introduction.'"
"It's all very well for you," I complained. "You and Sally Rebecca are just beginning."
"Your time will come later!"
"The zest will have gone by then."
"Did it with me?"
"No! But you're different. . . ."
"We're of the same flesh, George! You'll be just as keen when you're my age. Cheer up, old man!"
It was poor comfort to suggest that I ought to look forward to growing old in order that I might become young again, but it was typical of Gran'pa's strange outlook on life. He revelled in his aged youthfulness, and I believe that he felt really sorry for merely young people.