After making all the allowance I could for Gran'pa's novel home-coming, I was under the impression that once those new glands were safely embedded in him his progress from old age to youth would be a slow and rhythmic movement, like the gradual and normal recovery from an illness. But, alas, I was mistaken. There was no doubt about Gran'pa's progress, but instead of being steady and even, it followed a wild zigzag course, interspersed with sudden outbreaks of half-delirious childishness. To-day, he was sensible and quiet and dignified. To-morrow, he was silly and noisy and skittish. He had apparently either developed a dual character or was suffering from a grave lack of self-control.
The only reasonable explanation I can give of these phenomena is that Gran'pa had been dozing and dreaming in the peaceful backwaters of life until he had grown extremely stiff and awkward. Now that he was at last awakening, he was metaphorically pinching himself, stretching, kicking out, getting rid of that objectionable "pins-and-needles" sensation, and giving vent to little whoops of joy at finding the grim nightmare of impending death was untrue. In this half-sleeping, half-waking state, his perspective naturally was distorted, and he did many things which were shamefully undignified and childish. The experiment with the motor scooter was certainly the most dramatic of all these "outbreaks," for it was the least expected, and had found me totally unprepared.
As the days passed, however, I grew more accustomed to his freaks, and came to regard them as the natural result of adding another "young" member to the family. Some men would undoubtedly have called in a mental specialist when Gran'pa attached half a walnut shell to the kitten's tail and spent the whole morning watching the poor little creature waltzing and somersaulting round the dining-room floor. But I preferred to adopt the more Christian-like attitude of viewing the incident merely as a good-humored, boyish lark. After all, it didn't hurt the cat and it certainly amused Gran'pa and kept him out of further mischief—so what harm was there?
But when he began inciting Molly, who was already quite enough of a handful, I found it necessary to be very firm with him.
Without wishing to give the impression that I'm a kill-joy where youngsters are concerned, I must admit that I believe in a certain amount of juvenile restraint, even in these days of enlightenment and free education.
The case in point—which is only one of many dozens which occurred in the six months succeeding the operation—was actually due to my own thoughtlessness, and I record it in detail to show that one cannot be too careful when dealing with the young.
Ever since Molly was eight years old, I had celebrated her birthday by taking her to see that hardy old stage annual "Peter Pan." This year, I thought that it would be a gracious act to include Gran'pa in the ceremony, more particularly as he had just paid me that initial five thousand dollars, due under Clause 3 (a) of our written agreement.
So the three of us journeyed up to town early, had dinner, and then went to the theatre to see Barrie's wonderful version of Eternal Youth.
As Gran'pa had not been to a theatre since he was sixty-five—that is over thirty years previously—it was not surprising to find him deeply moved by the opening scene in the nursery. When Mrs. Darling sang her three offspring to sleep in their little cots, I noticed Gran'pa sentimentally blinking his eyes.
Presently, Peter Pan entered and Gran'pa sat up and became very restless. He craned his neck upwards and forwards and sideways to improve his view of the stage; he twitched, he made little excited grunts of merriment, he giggled when Peter let Tinker-bell out of the drawer, and he roared when the boys began taking lessons in the art of flying.