"If this thing's a success," I thought, "perhaps Nanny would like a new outfit, too. I should be sorry to lose her some day, and here's a very simple solution of the difficulty. I'll speak to her about it later. . . ."

We sat down to dinner and, presently, I drank to the success of Gran'pa's great venture into the Unknown, to that prospective fight of his against the muffling embrace of Old Age.

"May you regain your youth," I said, simply. "And your right hand recover its strength and cunning. Here's to you, sir!"

Molly kicked me under the table and, when Gran'pa bent over his soup a moment later, she made frenzied, interrogatory signs to me, with her eyebrows lifted. I pretended not to understand.

"Daddy," she whispered, "is he going to have some of those inter-stitches put in?"

I nodded.

"Oo-oo! Isn't it exciting!"

It certainly was! And Heaven alone knew where it would end

. . . .

[CHAPTER III]
WE INSPECT ALFRED