"Well, I must be going, Mr. Barnett."
The moment he had left the house, Gran'pa entered the room. He seemed very irritable.
"You must pardon me, George," he said, "but I couldn't help overhearing some of that conversation. . . . I don't think it was very nice of you to hold me up to ridicule."
"I had no such intention," I replied. "It was more from a feeling of justifiable pride in your abilities than anything else."
"H'm! . . . Well, it's my own fault, perhaps. . . . I've been intoxicated with this sudden flow of new energy. It went to my head, so to speak. My brain was overstimulated. I felt very much like a man who has come out of the darkness into a blaze of light. I hadn't grown used to the change. . . . Then came this terrible shock. I thought that Molly was going to die. . . ." (Although she had practically recovered, the word sent the blood rushing inwards and I involuntarily shivered.) "But, thank God, she was spared. . . . It's been one awful nightmare of fear and if anything had happened to her, I should have killed myself; but the ordeal seems to have steadied me. Something's gone snap in here"—he tapped his forehead—"and I'm whole again!"
I kept silent, amazed at the sudden revelation of sanity.
Said Gran'pa: "As soon as Molly is well again I intend starting life afresh. I have a great deal of experience behind me, valuable first-hand knowledge of things and persons. I don't want to quote the old tag about an ounce of experience, but it's certainly true. It will give me a big pull over the younger generation—although I shall necessarily want their help. I shall not be handicapped like most men of my age, or even twenty years younger. And, thank Heaven, I have plenty of self-confidence."
He strode down the room, glanced out of the window at a burst of winter sunshine, and then came back to the hearth-rug, from which he had delivered his confession.
Taking hold of my arm, he added, very quietly:
"Please remember, George, that in future I'm a reasonable human being."