"How many times has she told it already?" her brother replied with withering scorn. "And anyhow, I was talking of cows!"
"Very well," said his aunt, "we'll talk about cows, some cows I saw on a lovely old farm in a little village over in France."
"There!" cried his young sister. "Did she ever tell of that part of her trip?" And she made a little face at her brother.
"I don't care," he answered doggedly. "She has told about Paris lots of times—and that was what you wanted. Yes, you did. You said, 'About Paris.' Didn't she, Bob?"
"You bet she did," young Bob agreed.
"Now, children, children, what does it matter?"
"All right, go ahead with your barn in France," said George with patient tolerance. "Did they have any Holsteins?"
Soon the questions were popping from every side, while little Tad beamed from one to the other. To Tad it was all so wonderful, to be having supper away from home, to be here, to go to bed upstairs, to take part perhaps in a pillow fight.... And glancing at the glowing face and the parted lips of his small grandson Roger felt a current of warm new life pour into his soul.
Early in the evening he went up to Edith's apartment. He found his daughter in her room, looking flushed and very tense. He took her arm and they walked for a time. A trained nurse was soaping the windows. Roger asked the reason for this and was told that in case the baby did not come till morning the doctor wanted to pull up the shades in order to work by daylight. "And neighbors in New York are such cats! You've no idea!" said Edith. She looked out at the numberless windows crowding close about her home, and she fairly bristled with scorn. "Oh, how I loathe apartments!"
"They seem to have come to stay, my dear. In a few years more New York will be a city without a house," he said. "Only a palace here and there." The thought flashed in his mind, "But I shall be gone."