And so, by these many painstaking efforts, did Gran'pa descend the barren mountain-side of age and come into the wide and fertile valley of Youth. The progress he made was very slow, but it was very, very sure. Every week he had a full and side-face photograph taken, and every week we compared it with the previous records of rejuvenation. It was then that one could see the gradual birth of that new man which he was making of himself.
This gallery of portraits was an example of how carefully and scientifically Gran'pa was proceeding, and, unsatisfied with mere externals, he also paid periodic visits to Dr. Croft, who measured the strength of his heart-beat—and also recorded it on paper in the form of a zigzag graph.
"We're getting along, George!" he said. "I shall soon have you beaten, my boy. I'm going backwards and you're going forwards! When shall we meet, eh?"
"I wouldn't like to prophesy anything where you're concerned."
He put his hand on my shoulder and laughed from the sheer joy of living.
"This time last year . . ." he said musingly, "was I really that—doddering old fool in the chair?"
"You were certainly old, and you were certainly in that chair—most of your time," I answered good-humoredly. (I was beginning to like him immensely!)
"What an escape! . . . What a miracle! . . . And this time next year? . . ."
"Aren't you ever going to tell me of this project of yours?" I pleaded, appropriately.
"Very soon, George! Next week I'm going down to Brooklands."