He ate it a trifle sibilantly, and very thoughtfully, Molly insisting on kneeling by his side and holding the bowl as if it were an offering. I admired her tact and motherly concern.
"Night-night!" he said, at last.
"I shall give you ten minutes only," cautioned Molly. "And then I shall come up and tuck you in—and you can tell me a story."
Gran'pa chuckled.
"Neither of us deserves her, George," he whispered, as he went by me. "She's worth half-a-dozen whiskies as a pick-me-up."
He shuffled out of the room in his carpet slippers and Molly glanced at the clock to note the time.
"Daddy," she asked, "when's he going to the doctor?"
"To-morrow, dear."
"Is it . . . very dangerous?"
"No! Not a bit! You mustn't worry. He'll soon be home again."