Dr. Martin's expression was one of surprise and pain. In spite of his profession, he seemed to be deeply moved.
"This is very bad news!" he said. "They will be terribly upset."
"I am certain they will," agreed Gran'pa, almost cheerfully. "But they must make the best of it. Some of us will have to die of old age—sometime. It's not a new grievance. Men and women have been putting up with it for millions of years. Why, then, should these people complain?"
Dr. Martin shrugged his shoulders.
"You must remember that they have been here a long time and worked very hard at their exercises, solely in preparation for the new glands. Their enthusiasm has astounded all of us. When they find that only about a quarter of them are going to be rejuvenated, there will be trouble."
An idea struck me at this point.
"How would it be to distribute single glands, instead of pairs?" I suggested.
"No!" said Gran'pa, firmly. "I hate makeshifts. We must have one thing or the other—either youth or old age. We can't have men who don't know what they are. It would be as absurd as fitting a three-horse-power engine to a four-seater car. . . ."
"I agree," murmured Dr. Martin, despondently. "The only thing is to explain matters—"
"And let them draw lots," added Gran'pa.