"Not at all. It is only just day. I heard you rise and open your window—about an hour ago."
"That's so, grandfather. I felt my head heavy—I wanted to breathe the early air."
"I also heard you during the night walk up and down your room."
"Poor grandfather! Did I keep you awake?"
"No, I was not sleepy. But, George, be frank with me. There's something troubling you."
"Me? Nothing at all."
"For several months you have looked depressed; you have grown pale; you have changed so much as not to be recognizable. You are no longer as light of heart as you were when you returned from your regiment."
"I assure you, grandfather—"
"You assure me—you assure me! I know perfectly well what I see. As far as that is concerned I can not be deceived. I have a mother's eyes—come, now—"
"That's true," replied George smiling. "I think it is grandmother I should call you—because you are good, tender and uneasy about me, like a true grandma. But believe me, you alarm yourself unnecessarily. Here, hold your spoon; wait a minute till I place the table on your bed. You will be more at ease."