“He gets so tired. He is nearly seventy-four, you know.”
“Is it possible?”
“Yes, he was born in ’46. He still has keen vision and hearing, but it breaks my heart to see him losing his resistance.”
“Losing resistance? Please don’t vex your soul with any such notion. All he needs is an audience to talk to. Coming down the path he got started about grain, and if there is a live subject in the year 1919, it’s grain. I think we ought to draw him out on that subject. In fact I’d like to see him invited down to my old college to talk about it. What your father needs is a little light of publicity once more.”
Chapter 35. Bromine
She rose and brought him some coffee, and as he sipped it he proceeded to business.
“If I am to be infinitely honest, I must begin by inquiring whether I have enough money to settle my dinner check. Were those the berries he picked this morning?”
“Yes.”
“A scholar seventy-three years old gets down on his knees and picks berries for a man one-third his age. I can’t expect such a man to sell to me at market rates. Did you make the bread and butter?”
“I did.”