Gran'pa began clothing himself again, in a leisurely half-hearted fashion, which seemed to suggest that, if he could have had his own way, he would have had the operation there and then.
I drew Dr. Croft a little further away and arranged everything in detail. He appeared to be a very sensible and brainy young man, and I felt that he could be trusted to do his best.
"Do you think these glands will work all right?" I asked presently.
He began making a speech. I could see it coming. I was even afraid that it might be a lecture. But I made no resistance.
"I won't say, yet," he answered. "It's not merely a question of new glands and new vital essences. At such an age as your grandfather's, a considerable hardening of the tissues and arteries has taken place. The bones are more brittle, the cartilage partly ossified, the skin less elastic, the nerves less sensitive, and, of course, the hair and teeth are going. His heart is very strong, however, and given that, I believe almost anything is possible."
I breathed a sigh of relief, and Dr. Croft proceeded to deliver a fifteen-minute technical dissertation on the cause of old age. He also spoke of the new method of rejuvenation by means of glandular graftings as if he had first learned of it in the nursery—and didn't think very much of it.
In a pessimistic peroration, he said:
"There may be a thousand and one arguments in favor of this new theory, but perhaps in the end there will be just one damning little detail which will circumvent the whole process of repair. Now you can understand why I don't wish to be too dogmatic in this case."
I did! (As a drowning man sees the lights of a distant ship.)
He began again—just as I was hoping that he had finished—and inflicted on me a further lecture, dealing solely with the functions of "ductless glands" in general (whatever they may be).